The Commander’s judgement

Azra kept to the shadows as she made her way back to the slave chambers, jumping at every sudden noise. She was in a lot of trouble for sure- with the Matron and now the Commander. She wasn’t sure which one exactly she would be made sorrier for crossing. She stepped into the slave chambers and the moment she crossed the threshold, the air thickened with whispers, sharp snickers slicing through the dimly lit room.

Ignoring them all, she kept her gaze pointedly forward as she marched to her cot in the back but a deliberate clap cut through the noise.

“Well well, if it isn’t the slave of the hour.” A familiar saccharine voice crooned and Azra stopped.

Calla. Azra had since learned the name of the bully, self-proclaimed queen of the crony of losers. Her blond hair was braided back, her arms crossed in an air of practiced boredom. Around her, her entourage loomed as usual, their faces painted with scorn and amusement.

Calla took a step forward, tilting her head to meet her gaze. “Tell me something, do you actually have a death wish or are you just incredibly daft?”

Snickers spread through the chamber and Azra rolled her eyes. She hated bullies, they were just cowards that found joy in putting others down. She squared her shoulders, forcing her expression to remain blank.

“Oh? And are you suddenly concerned for my well-being, Calla? I’m touched.”

Calla’s eye twitched with annoyance as soon as she talked back but a sinister smile soon spread across her lips. “Concerned? No darling, I’m just entertained. You don’t even need enemies, Cinder. All I have to do is sit back and watch while you use your own hand to ruin yourself.”

“Yes! We agree on something. Continue doing more of that watching- from afar, ‘sweetheart’. You’re interrupting my beauty sleep.”

Azra turned to leave and one of the girls scoffed. “Do you even realize what you’ve done? Do you know what kind of privilege it is to serve The Commander?”

“Privilege?” Azra snapped, her temper flaring. “You mean the privilege of being treated like a piece of meat? Forgive me if I’m not throwing myself at the opportunity to be his next meal.”

Calla sneered. “You really do think you’re special, don’t you? It’s not just any slave that gets assigned to him, you moron. Only the best of Abysmii do and only after vigorous training.”

Azra’s stomach turned. She could imagine exactly what kind of training that entailed.

“You were handed one of the most coveted spots, and you spat on it.” One of her cronies girl chimed in, shaking her head. “Are you cursed? Just destined to ruin every ounce of good fortune that comes your way?”

Azra barked a laugh, bitter and sharp. “If you think I’m so damn lucky then by all means—take my place. Sell your body to him like a whore.”

The room erupted into mocking laughter.

“Oh, she must think her little coochie is made of gold or something.”

Before Azra could retort, the doors to the chamber burst open. The laughter cut off instantly, the air turning frigid as guards stomped inside, their armor clanking ominously.

“Which one of you is Cinder?” One of them barked.

Calla let out a delighted little snicker. “It’s reckoning time.”

Azra raised her hand, her throat tightening and her heart missing a beat.

“Get her.”

The guards seized her roughly and dragged her away. As she was pulled through the room, she caught sight of the chamber pot slave, arms crossed, watching her with a thoughtful expression.

~~~

Azra’s knees slammed against the cold marble floor of the lavish chamber as she was thrown to the floor. The Commander sat before her, draped lazily in his chair, one arm resting on the armrest while the other tapped idly against his thigh. His expression was unreadable but his eyes burned with something dark and eager.

“Well, there you are.” He mused. “Where have you been hiding?” His voice was smooth, dangerous, almost amused.

Azra forced herself to meet his gaze, dread pooling in her chest. “I wasn’t hiding.”

His lips curled. “Yes, you were. And you were good at it too but you think you could disappear forever?”

“About earlier-“ she began.

“You owe me a debt.” He cut in, standing. She wished he remained sitting. He paced to her, his movements unhurried, starkly contrasting with her growing urgency to beat a hasty retreat from his presence.

She lifted her chin. “There is no debt between us, only a misunderstanding.”

Commander Nolen chuckled but the sound was menacing. “A misunderstanding. I wouldn’t normally concern myself with the life of a common slave but it’s not just any slave that will be stupid enough to attack me with a lamp-stand.”

He crouched in front of her, tilting his head as he studied her. “I looked into your past. What I found was…” His fingers brushed her chin and she jerked back. His smile widened. “…interesting.”

He straightened, looking down his nose at her. “The only misunderstanding here is that you still don’t know your place.”

“I may be a slave…” she bit out. “… but I still have a right to decide who touches my body.”

That was the wrong thing to say. He moved with lightning speed, grabbing her throat and slamming her against the wall. Azra gasped, her fingers clawing at his wrist as he lifted her off the ground. His hand crushed her windpipe and she struggles to draw breath.

“How dare you?” He hissed. “You are a slave and slaves do not speak back to their superiors.”

Her lungs burned and her vision began to darken. She kicked her legs, clawing desperately at his fingers but it was like trying to fight an iron statue. She flailed, dark spots winking into her vision as her movements slowed down-

“Put her down.” The command sliced through the room and she recognized that voice, a voice that sent goosebumps trailing down her arms.

Azra’s eyes snapped open and there he was- the Lycan King standing there in the doorway, his face an unreadable mask.

Commander Nolen didn’t release her immediately. His fingers tightened, his lips curving in amusement. “Your Majesty. I wasn’t expecting your visit.”

King Aldric was so still the very air seemed to flow around him. “We have urgent business to discuss.” A pause. “And there is no reason why she should still be hanging in the air.”

Commander Nolen let out a soft chuckle. “The slave is insignificant.” His grip remained firm. “She is disobedient and must learn her place. After I kill her, I’ll have her body displayed in the sun-“

“Let her down.” The king commanded, his voice turning sharp and edged with something dangerous.

The grip on her throat loosened immediately and she crumpled to the ground, coughing violently.

Commander Nolen straightened, brushing off his sleeves. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. It was rude of me to take care of my business in your presence.” He motioned to the guards. “Take her away. I’ll finish what I started later.”

King Aldric’s voice was cold steel. “No. Let her go.”

A flicker of something passed through Nolen’s eyes- curiosity.

“She’s only a slave,” he said slowly. “Not worth your time, Your Majesty.”

King Aldric didn’t respond, just stared pointedly.

Commander Nolen’s jaw ticked but he waved a dismissive hand. “Get out.”

Azra had never been more grateful for an order in her life. She didn’t wait to be told twice as she staggered to her feet, her body screaming in protest. Clawing at the walls for support, she stumbled toward the exit.

The hallways blurred past her as she struggled to keep moving and just when she thought she couldn’t take another step, strong arms caught her, steadying her.

She looked up to find Grey. The servant girl’s grip was firm but careful as she pulled Azra into the shadows.

“You look like hell.” Grey murmured.

Azra gasped for breath, her throat bruised and raw. “Why—why are you helping me?”

Grey didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she pulled open a door and beyond the darkness— A familiar figure stepped forward and Azra’s blood ran cold.

Calyse, her traitorous sister.

Azra’s heart slammed against her ribs, shock and fury colliding inside her.

Calyse took a slow step forward, her expression unreadable. “Hello, Sister.”