Hamstung: Slaver's Bay
Today was different. It felt like every other morning, quiet, pale light slipping through the curtains, the air still heavy with dew, the noise of distant birds chirping—except this time, Joya's body didn't ache.
There was no dull reminder between her legs, no lingering soreness to tell her she had not been alone the night before.
Because she had been.
He did not come. Not once. Not to check on her, not to ask how she was faring, not even to pretend to be concerned, and so she woke up with an empty space beside her for the third time in a row.
It got to a point that her face grew sour and her smile fraught, and this did not go unnoticed by her house help, Irene, who had chosen to keep it to herself previously but now reconsidered.
"You know, if you frown too much, it will give you wrinkles."
A voice came from behind Joya, who was seated in front of the dressing mirror, her eyes still, staring back at her own reflection.
"Irene."
She called out, a bit surprised; she had been too absorbed with her thoughts to have even taken notice of Irene's presence.
A small sigh escaped her lips, and she shifted her gaze to the reflection of Irene in the mirror.
Irene had just stepped in with a basket of fresh blankets, which she carefully placed on the bed before making her way towards Joya.
"Your mind is heavy with thoughts, my lady. A problem shared is half solved."
She said while stretching her hand over Joya's shoulder. She grabbed a brush from the dressing table before proceeding to use it on Joya's hair.
Joya's eyes dropped to her fingers; there was a ring on it, emerald, glimmering under the ray of the sunlight peeking through the curtains.
"He didn't come."
She began with a hoarse voice.
"It has been three days, and he hasn't bothered to come and see me."
A small smile found its way to Irene's lips as she continued to run the brush along Joya's lustrous, thick, jet-black hair.
"That doesn't mean he doesn't care. The chief officer is a busy man…"
"Too busy to spare a moment to check on the woman he had claimed he valued?"
She said with a vexed voice, but Irene still maintained the smile on her lips.
"Perhaps it is for the best."
She replied before setting the brush down.
"He is insolent."
Joya concluded, then blinked her eyes to hide the feelings brewing in them; she hated being an open book that could easily be read, so she tried as much as possible to control her emotions.
"Because he can't give you what you want? The attention you so much desire?"
Irene questioned, and Joya measured her up with her gaze.
"Are you with me or against me?"
"Neither."
Irene replied, moving away from the mirror, her red hair swaying as she walked. She was very enthusiastic in her movements, a bright girl with glimmering green eyes.
"Then your loyalty cannot be trusted."
Joya retorted.
"You know it can."
She said, her gaze shifting to a book on an oak shelf. She made her way to where the book was and picked it up; her eyes ran through the title of the book before flipping it open.
"My loyalty is everything, and that is the only reason I stand before you, and yet I can still speak my mind."
"Hhm."
Joya hummed softly in a concurring manner. She couldn't agree less.
Irene was assigned to Joya after she was moved to the main cabin, away from the slavers' quarters. But their relationship sparked to that of friendship, rather than the mutual mistress and servant bond.
Irene became Joya's close, confiding friend, which in turn magnified their bond.
"Can you read?"
Joya questioned, rising from the stool she was seated on. She had peered into the mirror and saw that Irene was going through a book.
"I cannot."
Irene admitted closing the book.
"But the drawings on the pages are beautiful and easy to make it worthwhile."
She said with a witty smile before putting the book away.
In that moment the door to the room opened, and a woman no more than in her late fifties stepped in. Irene was taken aback by the abrupt act and couldn't help but ask…
"Have you no manners?"
She snarled when her eyes rested on the woman, who she recognized to be one of Prator's messengers.
"I apologize, but the matter is urgent."
The woman who had just stepped in retorted calmly before turning to look at Joya.
"That is not an excuse to…"
Irene was still talking when Joya interfered.
"Go on."
She said, giving Irene a sign to remain calm.
Irene swallowed hard before turning to look at the woman fully, green eyes turning blank.
"The King of Hamstung Feet has found a foothold in the Slaver's Bay, and the chief officer would like you to get dressed so that he may introduce you."
Irene's jawline, which was tightened, loosened up as shock reshaped the countenance of her face.
"What a humorous way to start the day."
Joya snorted, unbelief residing in her deep blue doe eyes.
"I speak as plainly as I have been told, my lady."
The woman said she enjoyed how their facial expression changed.
Joya felt her heart beat cease for some seconds; her world began to spin as she exchanged glances with Irene.
"Are you sure of what you are saying?"
Irene managed to ask, and the woman nodded in affirmation. Joya collapsed on the bed, her weight sinking into the mattress.
Her rosy lips parted, but words failed her.
"My lady…"
Irene began noticing how unstable Joya became; she rushed to her side, then squatted beside her.
"Leave."
Irene said to the messenger, the advanced woman who was still standing at the doorway with her hands dutifully clasped in front of her.
The woman bowed slightly and then took her leave.
"My lady, are you alright?"
She questioned, her pupils dilating, her gaze searchingly darting around her mistress's face.
Joya sucked in a shallow breath before replying.
"I am fine."
Although Irene wasn't convinced, she had no choice but to stand by her mistress's words.
"Tell him…tell the chief officer I am not well."
Joya said slowly, rising to her feet; she held on to a table to prevent herself from falling.
The shock she was feeling was yet to elude her; it made her body feeble.
"But, my lady, you are perfectly…
"Heed my words, Irene!
Joya snapped, her teeth clattering.
"Tell the chief, or anyone who asks of me, that I am not well; I am still recovering and in bed."
She said cautiously, and Irene nodded curtly and reluctantly took her leave.
"Why is he here?"
Joya placed her right hand on her chest as she questioned inwardly.
But what she got in return was the loud pounding of her heart hammering against her chest.
Whirls of memories flooded into her mind of how she had served the household of Veythar, the royal family of Hamstung.
The king might recognize her. He would point accusing fingers at her because she was there the night Princess Omelia was murdered; she was there!
"The past never truly goes away; it follows me."
Joya muttered before closing her eyes to shut away her thoughts.
She was still fidgeting; she feared for her life. Just when things had begun to get better, just when she had begun to cling to a little bit of hope, everything began to crumble.
.....
She didn't know how long, but for hours Joya remained on her bed, lying on her back, facing the ceiling, with a thick blanket drawn up to her chest, eyes wide open like that of an owl at night.
She didn't blink, forgot how to breathe, and only remained still, nails digging into the blanket that she held to her chest.
Nightfall came, and with it the chirping of the insects of the dark, but Joya was drowned in her own thoughts.
What was happening beyond the confinement of the room didn't matter to her.
Soon she switched positions. She sat up, legs drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped firmly around them, her chin resting on her forearm.
She was wearing a silver silk nightgown, her dark short hair falling over the left.
Moonlight slipped through a narrow gap in the curtains, laying a pale stripe across the floor. There was a lone candle burning in the room, just enough to chase away the thick darkness.
Joya's eyes stayed fixed on nothing in particular, unfocused yet painfully aware.
But soon her eyes shifted when she heard a noise.
Her blue eyes moved toward the doorway and settled on the man standing there, leaning against the doorpost. She was so immersed in her thoughts she didn't know when the door had nudged open.
He stayed where he was, half in the light, half in shadow, watching her without a word.
"How long have you been unwell?"
He began in a low voice.
She turned her face away.
"Long enough to have fully recovered before you even found out."
She let the lie slip out freely. She wanted him to be overcome with guilt.
"You still won't look at me."
He mused, his finger caressing the hairs on his chin.
"How long will this go on?"
He questioned, and he heard her snort.
"As long as it takes for you to realize the sense my words make when I tell you those slaves deserve better," she said evenly.
He fixed his gaze on her, but she still won't look at him.
"They are dying…" he said quietly, then pushed away from the door before moving towards the bed.
"The water resources in Hamstung cannot sustain them all."
He continued as she approached the bed; he settled onto the bed beside her.
"The king has agreed to let them go; they will be bought and shipped to different cities. The older ones will be freed."
She turned then, finally looking at him, her gaze softening.
"Is that why the king was here today?" she asked, her gaze bright with surprise.
He nodded curtly in affirmation.
"I want to begin a new life with you," he said, taking her hands in his.
The words struck her without warning, leaving her momentarily stunned.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he lifted his hand and placed a finger gently against her lips, asking for silence.
"I am a man of few words, Joya," he said, his breath brushing her face as he spoke.
"A man of action. I do not portray the traits of a loving man, but deep down, I want to be."
His voice filled her with warmth.
"You have a wife and two children… what shall become of them?" she asked, her brows knitting slightly, hoping the question might make him reconsider.
"They will be just fine. You are the woman I chose, the one I want by my side, the one I want to grow old with."
"You… you do not want me," she said, her eyes shifting away.
"You cannot simply have affection for a woman like me. I am stubborn and…"
"One of the many things I like about you," he cut in."
He lifted a hand and cupped her face, gently but firmly, forcing her to meet his gaze. Her words fell, electrified by his touch.
"You can take all the time in the world to think about it," he said calmly.
"I will not force you to return the same affection. But know this, I love you."
Their gazes remained locked as he spoke.
Joya swallowed, fighting the tears that gathered in her eyes, her chest tightening as she struggled to keep them from falling.
"But for now, you should rest; I heard you are unwell."
His hand slipped from her face as he rose to his feet.
She quickly dabbed her eyes; her cheeks were flushed, slightly red.
"I can only hope you get better before sunrise. We have a long journey ahead tomorrow… to the castle."
At his words, she froze, shock running through her as if struck by lightning.
"Ca… castle?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, thinking she must have misheard.
"The king wants to conclude the matter with a grand gesture. He has offered to feast with me; you shall come along."
He said with his back turned towards her, he didn't see the horrified expression that had frozen her features.
"I would like to come along, but I am unwell." She managed to say it, her voice steady despite the knot in her chest.
He turned to look at her from across the room, already halfway to the door.
"You look strong enough to be able to endure the journey. Or is there another reason? Do you detest the idea of coming with me?" he said slowly.
"Is that how much resentment…"
"No," she cut in quickly.
"No. My refusal has nothing to do with us."
He studied her for a brief moment, then nodded once.
"Then you will come along," he said, finally.
At her silence, he continued, his tone firm.
"You have wanted this for a long time. You wanted these people to be free. It is only right that you stand by my side when I sign the documents that will grant them their freedom once and for all."
She thought over his words.
They made sense; it was only right for her to come along. This was what she had always wanted.
Closing her eyes, her resolve turning cold and steady, she nodded courteously.
"I will come along with you to the castle."