Page 9 of Chains of Nightshade

My brush moves in steady circles as I consider the creature from my dream. That massive form, the scales that caught what little light there was. The way he looked at me like I was... something. Someone.

"But I'm not," I whisper to the floor. "I'm just..." My voice trails off as I notice my knuckles have gone white around the brush handle. "I'm nothing. I've always been nothing."

The words taste bitter in my mouth, but they're familiar. Safe. The alternative is too dangerous to consider.

I shake my head, trying to focus on the wine stain beneath my brush. The bristles scratch against stone in a familiar rhythm, but his words keep echoing.

"You have strength. You just haven't seen it yet."

My arms ache as I dip the brush back in the bucket. Water sloshes over the rim, soaking my already damp skirts.

"Strength?" I mutter, scrubbing harder. "What strength?"

A shadow falls across my work. Lady Morana's youngest daughter stands over me, her silver hair gleaming in the torchlight. Her eyes flicker green, and I see the fury creep into them like a slow-moving shadow.

"You missed a spot." She points to the section I just cleaned. "Do it again."

I bow my head. "Yes, my lady."

She kicks the bucket, sending dirty water across the floor I spent hours cleaning. "All of it. Again."

My chest tightens as she walks away, her laughter bouncing off the stone walls. I stare at the spreading puddle, at my distorted reflection in the murky water.

His voice whispers again in my mind. "You are more than what they say."

"Stop it," I hiss to myself, pressing my palms against my temples. "Just stop."

But the memory of those green eyes burns through my thoughts, seeing something in me I can't understand. Something I'm afraid to believe exists.

My fingers curl against the cold stone. It would be easier to stay small, to remain invisible. To accept what everyone knows to be true.

But for the first time in my life, I'm not sure what's true anymore.

Lady Morana's chambers reek of expensive perfume as I scrub the marble floor. Two dark elf guards lounge by the doorway, picking at a platter of fresh fruits and meats I brought up earlier.

"Look at her, crawling around like a worm," one guard says through a mouthful of food.

"Pathetic." The other tosses a grape that hits my back. "Can't even clean properly. See those streaks?"

I keep my head down, but something stirs in my chest. Aurel's words from my dream echo: "You are more than what they say."

"Hey, defect." The first guard kicks at my bucket. "You missed a spot. Right there."

My hands pause on the brush. What if... what if they're wrong? The thought sends a jolt through me, dangerous and thrilling. I've never questioned them before.

"Are you deaf as well as useless?" He steps closer.

"No, sir." I dip my brush in the bucket, but my heart pounds. This new feeling frightens me. Hope. It's like holding something sharp – exciting but likely to draw blood.

They turn back to their food, laughing about some cruel joke. I glance up through my lashes at their plate of untouched delicacies. Their backs are turned.

My throat is dry as I stand to refill their water goblets. Before I can stop myself, I lean over their plates. A small glob of spit falls onto their food. I mix it in quickly with a spoon, my pulse racing.

"About time," one guard grumbles as I retreat.

They continue eating, oblivious. A tiny smile tugs at my lips as I return to scrubbing. It's a small act of defiance, but it fills me with a strange warmth. For the first time, I've done something they don't know about. Something they can't punish me for.

I duck my head to hide my expression, but inside, that dangerous spark of hope flares brighter.

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