Chapter 10

I was assigned to cleaning duty again, this time with another girl whose name I didn't know—and whose acknowledgment of my existence was nonexistent. She avoided eye contact, acted as if I weren't there, and carried on with her tasks as if she worked alone. I didn't take it personally. After two weeks of being treated like dirt by the Ashujans, her coldness barely registered anymore.Ashujans harbored deep-seated prejudices against humans. To them, we were beneath notice. Inferior. Weak. And to some degree, they were right. Compared to them, humans were fragile. Ashujans were stronger, faster, and almost eerily perfect—a version of us stripped of all our flaws. That didn't mean their disdain didn't sting. I saw it now in the way her jaw tightened every time I failed to keep up with her pace.She hauled the heavy wooden buckets of water with ease, her slender arms betraying a strength no human could match. It was humbling, in the worst way. Even the strongest men on Earth would struggle with tasks she performed effortlessly. I, on the other hand, could barely move the damn buckets. Every scrape across the stone floor sounded like my humiliation given voice.The other girls glanced my way, their expressions ranging from irritated to downright contemptuous. I tried to ignore them, focusing instead on the task at hand, but the strain was unbearable. My arms ached, my fingers throbbed, and my back protested every movement.Then, as if to mock me further, a frigid gust of wind tore through the corridor. I shivered violently, clutching the thin blue dress I'd been given. It was little more than a decorative rag, completely useless against the biting cold. My teeth began chattering uncontrollably, and I hunched my shoulders, trying to conserve what little warmth I had.Ashujans, of course, were immune to the cold. Their skin didn't even raise goosebumps. I hated them for it. The chill seeped into my bones, and by the time night fell, I would be crawling into the tiny shed where I slept, clutching the thin blanket like a lifeline.I had lost so much weight during my time here that the dress, once uncomfortably tight, now hung loosely on my frame. The hollowness of my stomach was a constant ache, but I forced myself to keep moving. The alternative—punishment—was worse.The girl scrubbed the floor with a brisk, mechanical efficiency that I couldn't hope to match. Her movements were fast and precise, her brush scraping across the stone in clean, rhythmic strokes. I tried to mimic her, but my hands felt clumsy, my mind unfocused. No matter how hard I tried, my thoughts kept drifting.How could I get out of this place?The question played on an endless loop in my head, distracting me from the work in front of me. It wasn't the first time I'd thought about escape, but it always ended the same way—with Thika's voice warning me of the consequences. She had seen that longing in my eyes, the flicker of defiance that hadn't quite been extinguished.Her words had been clear and brutal: "You'll wish you were dead."That warning was the only thing keeping me from doing something reckless.I was jolted from my thoughts by the low murmur of voices. The guards. They were talking among themselves, their tones casual but always carrying an edge of authority. I knew better than to look up, but curiosity got the better of me. I lifted my gaze just enough to see the end of the corridor, where the stone path opened onto a bridge.Beyond the bridge, I could see glimpses of another world. Men and women strolled in elegant, expensive clothing, their laughter carried faintly on the wind. They moved with an ease I hadn't felt in weeks, their faces untouched by exhaustion or fear.They weren't slaves.I strained to take in more, careful not to draw attention. Thika had told me about them once—the Kaambh girls and their clients. The men were council members, high-ranking guards, and wealthy merchants. The women were prized companions, courtesans trained to entertain and please. They were not royal, but they were far above us in status.The royals, Thika had said, lived in the central palace, further north from where we were confined. I couldn't even imagine what that part of the palace must look like.My chest tightened as a familiar name surfaced in my mind. Zavi.I wondered what he was doing right now. Did he even know I was here? Did he care? He was the king, after all. If I could just find a way to speak to him, explain my situation, surely he would help me. He had to.But the question lingered, heavy and unrelenting: How?The guards' voices grew louder, snapping me back to the present. I quickly returned my focus to the floor, scrubbing furiously as if I'd been working the whole time. My hands moved on autopilot, but my mind remained far away, lost in fantasies of escape and freedom.I just had to survive. For now."Hakth!" one of the guards barked in Ashubol, his voice echoing sharply through the corridor. Before I could even react, the wooden stick in his hand cracked against my temple. The blow wasn't hard enough to knock me over, but it sent a jolt of pain shooting through my skull. My hands instinctively flew to my head as I winced, biting back the instinct to glare at him.The word "Hakth" was one I had come to know well. It meant "look down" or, more literally, "heel," like one would command a dog. I swallowed my anger and shifted my gaze to the floor, reminding myself not to provoke him further. My defiance would accomplish nothing here, not when I was powerless.Thika had been teaching me Ashubol whenever we had stolen moments away from prying eyes. Given that no one in Ashudhar spoke the human tongue, I had to pick up the language quickly if I wanted any hope of survival—or, better yet, escape. Each new word I learned felt like a tiny step forward in a world where I was constantly being pushed back.I rubbed the sore spot on my head and tried to focus on the task in front of me, but the exhaustion was overwhelming. My knees ached from hours of scrubbing the cold, hard stone, and the girl working beside me muttered something under her breath. The only word I caught was "trouble."Trouble. That's what they saw when they looked at me. Not a person, not someone trying to survive, but a nuisance slowing them down. They didn't understand that I wasn't the trouble—I was the one in trouble.My stomach growled loudly, and I hunched over, trying to ignore the empty ache. Hunger gnawed at me constantly now, a sharp reminder of how little I was given to eat. The searing pain in my knees grew worse with each passing hour, but the guards didn't care. They didn't allow breaks, not until the work was finished.The guards' tempers flared as the day dragged on. I could hear them cursing under their breath, their voices dripping with frustration and disdain. I didn't need to understand the words to grasp the meaning behind them. To them, I was useless, a weak link dragging down the rest.The Auri, the overseer of the female slaves, was the worst of them all. Her hatred for me was palpable. Every task she assigned me seemed chosen specifically to humiliate or break me. Cleaning wasn't the hardest job in theory, but when the corridor stretched endlessly before us and there were only two of us working, it felt insurmountable—especially when one of us was just a human.By the time the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, we were finally done. My body screamed in protest as I pushed myself to my feet, my knees bruised and wobbly. Lunch had come and gone hours ago, and now it was well past dinnertime.I limped toward the kitchen quarters, each step sending a fresh wave of pain through my legs. When I arrived, the other girls were already eating, their chatter filling the air. None of them wanted me near them. Even Thika, who had been kind to me in her own guarded way, hesitated when I sat too close. I didn't blame her. She had risked enough just by helping me learn Ashubol.I took my plate and found a quiet corner to eat, standing to avoid taking up space at the tables. The food was strange and unfamiliar, but hunger made even the bitter fruit and the dense bread tolerable. I ate quickly, ignoring the glances thrown my way, and left as soon as I was finished.When I returned to the shed, Thika was waiting for me with a mischievous smile. "I sneaked out some sweet water for you," she said, her voice low.My heart lifted at her words. Sweet water. Something as simple as sugar in water felt like a luxury here. A smile spread across my face as she pulled out a small glass from under her bed and handed it to me."Thank you," I murmured, savoring the first sip. It tasted like sunlight, a fleeting moment of joy in a sea of misery.As I drank, Thika sat beside me, her expression thoughtful. "A bunker got evacuated today," she said after a moment. "You can move your bed there.""Whose bunker?" I asked, frowning."Gomie's. She got selected for the Kaambh quarters.""She got selected for a whorehouse?" I asked, astonished.Thika chuckled softly. "She's been trying to get in there for three years.""That's absurd," I said, shaking my head. The idea of someone aspiring to such a position was baffling to me.Thika began gathering my things, bundling them into a small pile as she spoke. "The Kaambh quarters aren't just any brothel. They're reserved for the royal family and high-ranking officials. The women who live there are given everything—elegant clothes, good food, private sleeping quarters. Compared to this..." She gestured around the cramped shed. "It's paradise.""That explains it," I murmured, my voice laced with a mixture of resignation and understanding. Back home, whoring was one of the lowest rungs of society, a profession born of desperation or exploitation. But here? If it came with food, shelter, safety, and dignity—relative as it might be—I could see why someone would willingly choose it. Survival had a way of twisting our definitions of freedom and comfort."But there's a catch, Kirti," Thika said, her voice lowering to a near whisper as she set my belongings on the empty bunker bed. Her eyes darted around the room, as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Only half the women make it out alive."A chill ran down my spine, colder than the icy wind that swept through the corridors earlier. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice hushed but insistent.Thika hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she finally leaned in closer. "We're not supposed to talk about it," she whispered. "But I've heard rumors—stories of obscene acts, of horrors that no one dares to name. The women who return... they're not the same. And many don't return at all."My throat tightened. "What do they do there?" I asked, horrified but unable to stop myself from wanting to know more."Unimaginable things," Thika said, her voice barely audible now. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her expression shadowed with unease. "You wouldn't want to go there. Whatever Gomie was thinking... it wasn't normal. We all knew something wasn't right with her mind. She wanted to leave this place so badly, she didn't care about the cost."Thika dusted off the thin blanket on my new bed one last time before straightening up. Her eyes softened as she looked at me. "Have a good night, okay?" she said, her tone gentler than before. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked back to her sleeping area, leaving me alone with my thoughts.The more I learned about this world, the more the weight of despair pressed down on me. Every revelation chipped away at the fragile hope I clung to, like a tether fraying with every pull. I had tried to blend in, to keep my head down and avoid drawing attention, but with each passing day, the prospect of freedom seemed to drift further and further out of reach.It's strange, isn't it? The way we adapt to circumstances we once thought unendurable. At first, I had fought against the grind of this life. I struggled with every task, cried myself to sleep every night, and cursed my fate. But now, I was beginning to accept it, not because I wanted to, but because survival demanded it.The only thing that kept me going was the thought of my mother. Her memory was like a dagger lodged in my chest, sharp and unyielding. I could still hear her cries for mercy, echoing in my mind during the long, sleepless nights. The shadows had taken her. She was with them now, and I didn't know if she was alive or dead. But I had to believe she was still alive. It was the only thing that gave my suffering a purpose.If I wanted to survive here, I had to become like them. I had to let this place strip away my humanity, layer by layer, until I was just another cog in the palace's relentless machine.I began to find solace in the smallest things—a slice of bitter fruit during dinner that helped me sleep, the rare moments when the guards ignored me, the occasional smile from another girl during work. Days bled into weeks, and weeks blurred into months. I was no longer the human girl everyone whispered about. I was just another slave, indistinguishable from the rest.The other girls slowly started to accept me, though none of them wanted to be paired with me for assignments. I was still too slow, too weak, too much of a liability. But at least they no longer avoided me like I carried a disease.My inhibitions were crumbling, replaced by a numbness that dulled the edges of my misery. I found fleeting moments of joy in the most mundane things—a rare warm bath, an extra loaf of bread, the sound of birds chirping in the distance. It wasn't happiness, not really, but it was enough to keep me going.And then there were the moments when my mind drifted to Zavi. I didn't know what to feel about him anymore. Sometimes, I fantasized about stumbling into him, hoping he might help me rescue my mother. Other times, I prayed to avoid him altogether, terrified of what might happen if I crossed his path.But tonight, as I lay in my new bunker bed, my body aching and my mind restless, I found myself wanting nothing more than to see him again. Just once.