The camp sprawled like a living nightmare across the hills, its borders marked by palisades of sharpened timber that clawed at the sky.
Watchfires burned ceaselessly, their smoke staining the air with the stench of charred wood and burnt meat.
Warriors in wolf pelts and rusted iron patrolled the grounds, their eyes gleaming with a feral hunger that made Lakshmi's skin crawl.
As she was dragged toward the black-stoned fortress at the camp's heart, she glimpsed makeshift cages holding prisoners—skeletal figures with hollow eyes, their chains clinking like morbid music.
This is no camp she thought. It's a den of monsters.
The guards' grip on her arms tightened as they ascended the fortress steps. Lakshmi's breath hitched, her mind flashing to Varun's chambers—the way he'd leer as he unbuckled his belt, the cold stone floor biting her knees.
"A king's right," he'd sneered, his breath reeking of wine and rot.
She remembered how her stomach churned and how her heart thundered in her chest, how terrified she had been. How relieved she was when he couldn't get his lope-sided manhood to stand and the pain that came afterwards when he took his frustration out on her until her ribs cracked from the his boots.
Lakshmi maybe twentyof age but she was no naive little girl, sh knew what happened in a conqueror's bed. And Kael would be no different.
The doors to his chambers loomed ahead, carved with wolves mid-snarl, their jaws frozen in perpetual violence. Lakshmi's legs trembled, but she forced herself to stand straight. Play meek. Survive.
The guards shoved her inside.
Candlelight flooded the room, so bright after the torchlit gloom of the halls that Lakshmi blinked, disoriented.
Instead of the low bed she'd braced for, she faced a sprawling oak table laden with food—roasted pheasant glazed in honey, figs bursting with juice, bread so fresh it steamed. The scent coiled into her, primal and cruel. Her mouth watered even as her fists clenched.
A trick. A game.
Kael sat at the table's head, fully clothed... everything about him fully concealed, but she knew better.
He tore into a leg of lamb, grease glistening on his fingers. "Sit."
Lakshmi hesitated, her eyes darting to the shadows behind him—no bed, no chains. Just tapestries of wolves hunting under blood-red moons. Why?
"Sit," he repeated, low and final.
She obeyed, folding herself into the chair like a shadow, her gaze fixed on her lap. Meek. Small. Nothing.
Pretend.
"Eat."
Her hands shook as she reached for a fig. She forced herself to nibble it, though every bite tasted like ash. Poisoned? She almost hoped it was.
"Good girl. I thought I would have to threaten your tribe to get you to obey"
"No, threats necessary, Master"
She focused on her plate so he doesn't see the plot in her eyes.
"Kael" He corrected.
She said nothing.
Kael watched her, his golden eyes unblinking. When she grabbed a strip of meat and devoured it, juice dripping down her chin, he frowned. "Slow down. You'll choke, little feather."
She ignored him, tearing into the bread next. It was soft, real, unlike the moldy scraps Varun had tossed her. Her stomach cramped, torn between starvation and dread.
"Look at me."
She froze, a piece of bread halfway to her lips. Slowly, she raised her eyes.
He leaned forward, his voice a rumble. "You fought like a demon during inspection. Now you sit here, docile as a lamb. Which is the lie?"
She let her voice quiver. "I don't want trouble."
His fist slammed the table. Plates jumped; wine sloshed. "Look at me."
She flinched, a tear slipping free—calculated, always calculated.
Play the damsel.
"Please. Don't hurt me, Master"
For a heartbeat, silence. Then Kael laughed, harsh and disbelieving. "Pathetic. You are Queen"
"A defeated Queen" She reminded him.
He stood, his shadow swallowing her whole as he circled the table. Lakshmi's heart pounded.
Now. Now he'll take what he wants. She braced, muscles coiled to fight, to bite, to—
He stopped at the fireplace, gripping the mantel. Above him hung a tapestry, its threads frayed but vivid: wolves chasing a stag through a forest - typical
"You'll come home with me." he said abruptly.
Home? Lakshmi's heart jumped into her stomach. Another home meant leaving Jharna state behind... leaving her tribe.
She blinked. "Why?"
"Because I command it."
"And if I refuse?"
He turned, his gaze sharp enough to flay. "You won't."
She dropped her eyes, hiding the defiance in them. "As you wish."
He stared at her a moment longer, then strode out, the door thudding shut behind him.
Alone, Lakshmi's meekness fell away like a shed skin.
She snatched a knife from the table, testing its edge against her thumb.
Sharp. Good. She slid it into her sleeve, then crept to the tapestry. Up close, the wolves' stitches were crude, the stag's eyes clumsily embroidered—a child's work.
Footsteps echoed outside. Lakshmi darted back to her seat, resuming her hunched posture just as a servant entered to clear the plates. The woman avoided her gaze, hands trembling as she stacked dishes.
"Wait," Lakshmi whispered.
The servant froze.
"What happens to the others? The women he… inspects?"
The woman's voice shook. "The weak ones go to the pits. The strong stay."
"And the strong—what do they do?"
A pause. "They survive."
The door opened again; the servant fled.
That night, Lakshmi lay on the bed, the knife hidden beneath her thigh. The camp's noises seeped through the walls—drums, drunken shouts, the occasional scream. Somewhere, her people starved. Somewhere, Varun plotted.
And here she was, playing mouse to a wolf.
But even mice could gnaw through ropes.
She closed her eyes, imagining Kael's real home. Probably worse than here, probably smell like death. She knew what had to be done, She'd take whatever he offered and twist it into a weapon and plunge it into his chest .
When sleep came, it brought no peace—only dreams of a girl drowning in a palace moat, her wrists raw from chains.