The room was easily the size of a ballroom—perhaps it had been one, centuries ago, before humans lost their right to dance. It was stuffed full of beds, bunk beds stacked in endless rows that stretched toward the far wall like soldiers at attention. There had to be at least fifty of them, each one accompanied by a small chest of drawers worn smooth by countless hands. The air was thick with the scent of too many bodies in too little space—sweat and fatigue and the faint metallic tang of fear that never quite left a servant's skin. There were absolutely no personal belongings in view. The beds that weren't currently occupied were neatly made with military precision, the thin blankets pulled tight across the mattresses as if even the bedding itself dared not relax.
"Any bed without a yellow ribbon tied to it is taken," Gwen announced to the group, her voice carrying across the cavernous space. The ceiling here was lower than in the Beast halls, pressing down with water-stained plaster. "When you find an empty one you like, you can take the ribbon out of the drawer next to it and tie it around the bedpost. The drawer and bed are yours. Don't touch anybody else's belongings and don't make a lot of noise."
With that, Gwen walked off toward what Adeline assumed was her own bed against the far wall, her footsteps echoing on the bare wooden floor. The boards creaked with each step, worn thin from years of traffic.
Adeline hadn't thought she would be lucky enough to get her own room again. That had been a privilege she'd enjoyed at King Richard's castle, one she had known was unlikely to continue—a reward for years of flawless service that clearly meant nothing here. But she had imagined she would share a small room with a handful of other girls, not sleep in the same open space with dozens of women. The lack of privacy made her skin crawl, as if even in sleep she would be observed, judged, found wanting.
Most of the beds appeared to be taken. Adeline walked through the rows, searching, her shoes making soft sounds against the floorboards. She finally found an unclaimed bottom bunk near the bathroom. Through the open doorway she could see ancient pipes running along the walls, rust bleeding through in orange-brown stains. She quickly retrieved a ribbon from the drawer—the fabric felt rough between her fingers, frayed at the edges—and tied it around the bedpost to claim the space.
Being next to the bathroom wasn't ideal. She worried she would be woken throughout the night as women got up to use it, the constant flush and flow of water disturbing whatever rest she might find. But it was better than nothing, and at least she wouldn't have to climb to a top bunk in the dark, risking a fall that would draw unwanted attention.
Adeline unpacked her burlap sack, taking care to organize her clothing so everything fit properly in the small drawer and would be easy to access. The wood inside was rough, unfinished, and she got a small splinter in her thumb that she had to pull out with her teeth. As she finished, she glanced around the room, trying to figure out what the sleeping attire was here. Back when she'd had her own room at King Richard's castle, and even when she'd shared with others during her younger years in the southern territories, she had simply slept naked. They hadn't been provided with nightclothes, and most of the girls found it more comfortable than sleeping in their work clothes. It also meant they could go longer between laundry days—a practical consideration when soap was rationed and hot water scarce.
Unfortunately, everyone else had already gotten into bed, so she couldn't quite tell what the custom was here. The occupied bunks were dark shapes in the dim light, their occupants turned away or hidden beneath blankets. Deciding to play it safe, Adeline slipped off her pants but left her underwear on. She slid under the thin covers of the bottom bunk, the fabric worn soft but providing little warmth against the perpetual chill that seemed to seep from the very stones of this northern castle.
The mattress was harder than the one she'd had at King Richard's castle—lumpy in places where the stuffing had shifted—and the pillow felt like it was stuffed with straw that poked through the worn ticking. But the moment her head touched that pillow, her eyes began drooping shut. Exhaustion crashed over her like a wave, pulling her down into darkness. Her muscles ached from standing at attention for so long, from the tension of keeping herself perfectly still under the King's scrutiny.
Tomorrow would start a new day in this strange, frightening place.
Hopefully not her last day.
Adeline's final thought before sleep claimed her was of Vera's tear-stained face and John's worried expression. She held onto those images like lifelines, reminders that someone, somewhere, cared whether she lived or died. That she was more than just another replaceable human body in service to Beast masters. That her name meant something to someone.
The room around her filled with the quiet sounds of breathing, the occasional creak of a bed frame, the soft pad of feet heading to the bathroom. Fifty women sleeping in one space created a symphony of small noises that should have been comforting in their humanity but instead felt lonely. Each breath was isolated, separate, a reminder of the rules that forbade them from forming bonds, from finding comfort in one another's presence.
Somewhere in the distance, deep within the castle's heart, she could hear the low rumble of Beast voices—a reminder that even in sleep, they were never truly safe, never truly alone. The sound vibrated through the walls like distant thunder.
Adeline pulled the thin blanket up to her chin, curling on her side in an instinctive effort to conserve warmth. The fabric smelled of lye soap and old sweat, of the countless bodies that had used it before her. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the unfamiliar shapes of the room, the sense of being exposed even in darkness. Whatever tomorrow brought, whatever anger King Heloix still harbored, whatever rules she would inevitably break without meaning to, she would face it after sleep.
She had survived twenty-four years in a world ruled by Beasts. She had survived the loss of her home, her best friend Vera's reassignment, everything familiar stripped away like leaves in autumn. She had learned to bow her head, to silence her thoughts, to become invisible.
She could survive this too.
She had to.
Because the alternative was unthinkable—a shallow grave in the northern soil, unmarked and unmourned, just another human who had failed to please her Beast masters. Just another name added to the long list of the forgotten.
Outside, the wind howled against the castle walls, carrying with it the scent of pine forests and snow-capped mountains. This far north, winter came early and stayed late, much like the cruelty of the Beasts who ruled here.