I woke drenched in sweat, breathing fast, overwhelmed with an intense but unspecific feeling of dread.

  The nightmares were always so vivid.

  This time it was about the moment a gargoyle dropped from the ramparts and started tearing the medical group apart. He could not fly due to the magical protection from the city, but he could use his wings to slow his fall and that took us by surprise. The only reason I survived was because he chose to pursue another nurse instead of me.

  That was not the first time and, unfortunately, would not be the last. When I had a good night of sleep several days in a row I kind of hoped that the nightmares had ended, just to be caught by surprise once again.

  Since my visit to the Academy two days ago, I had been thinking more and more about the consequences that all that would have for my life, and my anxiety and worry just kept growing. Having that affected my sleep was just a matter of time.

  I was an artifact, but I had no idea what that actually meant. I felt no different than before—my mind was the same, my body was the same. If there were some changes, I could focus on those, but without anything tangible, all I had left was an imagination that wandered to places I would rather not go. I tried to manage it by keeping busy, but that was no refuge in the middle of the night.

  My room was an alcove in one of the many abandoned sections of the castle and a bit distant from where the other castle servants slept. I had chosen it because it was way bigger than the ones available in more lively areas, with the downside that it was so secluded that even if I screamed, I could not be heard, and the entire area had a dilapidated and kind of spooky feel about it.

  Most people avoided those abandoned sections, but Uther had a fascination with them, and we explored together when we were younger. I believe we knew the castle better than anyone alive.

  After a few minutes I calmed down enough to realize that I would not be able to get back to sleep. The room was completely dark, so I touched the side of my bed until I found my oil lamp. I focused and imagined a drawing in front of me, which I touched and poured mana into it. Mana flowed into the pattern, filling it like water in fine glass tubes. Once the circuit was complete, I gave a mental command, and the field activated. I focused a tinny point of intense heat into the tip of the lamp wick, generating a small flame that illuminated the room with a pale-orange light.

  And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the apex of my magical prowess.

  Sigh.

  I put a cape over my nightgown, grabbed the lamp and left for the corridor. The poor illumination and chilly air just intensified the spooky atmosphere, but I was used to it.

  There were crystals in the ceiling at regular intervals, or empty slots where those crystals should be. Most did nothing, but a few were still able to emit a very faint blue light, like the last ragged breaths of a moribund. Those glowing stones were used to illuminate the castle ages ago, now, only the living areas used by the royal family still had them. The rest had their crystals cannibalized or simply stopped working over the years.

  I finally arrived at the kitchen. There was always a fire lit there. If I had to suffer through insomnia, at least I would do so in a warm place while drinking tea.

  “Hi, Gift. Nightmares again?” said a young woman with a timid voice colored by a strong foreign accent. She was sitting, almost hiding, in a chair in the corner, wearing the plain gray and white dress of the castle servants. In her neck there was a sturdy metal slave collar with complex engravings and mana crystals embedded.

  She was Winter, the personal servant of first prince Allan. Winter also had her share of sleep problems, so it was not uncommon those last months for us to meet each other in the middle of the night.

  “Yes, a very bad one. Want some tea?” I ask while putting some water to heat.

  “I accept. Thank you very much.” She replied in a soft voice. Her Northern accent was just adorable.

  There was no other way to describe Winter than drop-dead gorgeous, possibly the most beautiful woman I had ever known. She was a little shorter than me, with wavy, light blonde hair and eyes of such an intense, unreal blue that it felt as if nature itself had modeled the color of the sky after them. Her skin was pale and delicate, and she blushed easily—a trait that only added to her undeniable charm.

  And, since it would be impossible not to notice, she had breasts that could start wars.

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  Even so, she had the fearful, anxious look of a hare locked in a cage full of wolves. Her slave collar was not a formality like mine, it was the real deal, and could inflict excruciating pain or even kill at her master’s whim.

  I finished preparing an herbal tea that was good for the nerves. Sometimes I even splurged and added a bit of honey for some sweetness, but it was getting difficult to find honey and the little we had was exclusive for the nobles.

  I gave her a cup of tea, placed on the table a plate with a little bread and hard cheese, and sat next to her.

  “Thank you very much” she replied, taking a sip. “It is good I find you here because I need to talk to you. Master Allan want meeting with Master Uther next Monday.”

  “He said about what?”

  “No, but I think it is about the monsters in Silver Lake Forest. He is very stressed about that…”

  “I will check Uther’s schedule, but I believe I can rearrange things if need be.”

  Winter crossed her arms tightly in her chest, with one hand on her collar, taking furtive looks at my neck.

  I had forgotten to put my collar on before leaving my room. Since I had not left the servant quarters, it was not something that would get me in trouble for, but I think it reminded Winter about the difference in treatment we received from our respective masters.

  It is forbidden for a personal servant to reveal personal details about her relationship with her master, but it was clear thar hers was very different from what I had with Uther.

  She was terrified of Allan.

  Winter would tense every time she was in the same room as him, remaining still like she was hoping a predator would not notice her.

  That alone made me wary of prince Allan, but that was something I never voiced. The opinion a lowly slave had about the future king was irrelevant at best and treacherous at worst.

  We talked a little more about matters of no consequence, but I sensed that there was something off with her. I waited until she got enough courage, and asked me in a low voice:

  “Gift, you never think about running away? You can leave city easily, and you don’t have a magic collar. It is not hard for you to just go away.”

  I got where that came from. The way she saw her life here was totally different from how I saw it, and it was understandable.

  There were various ways a person could end up in slavery; her case was among the worst options.

  She lived with her family in a small village in the Frozen North. It was an inhospitable place, full of terrible creatures, but the tales’ mothers would tell her children so that they behave was not about some ice monster, but the men from Central that would kidnap children, burn their homes and kill their parents.

  When she was a teen, that was exactly what happened. She watched most of her family getting killed, her mother used by the slavers during the entire travel to Central, and she was only spared that fate by the monetary value of her purity.

  It was just coincidence that the first prince was visiting the market at the time she was being auctioned. She could not even speak Imperial at the time, so it was obvious the reason why the prince purchased her to be his personal servant.

  Winter tried to not draw attention, but that was just impossible for her. The servants from the castle were envious of her beauty and that, associated with her lack of familiarity with our customs and meek demeanor, made Winter a prime target for the low intensity harassment that women were masters of, making her terribly isolated.

  I tried to help in the ways I could, teaching her how a personal servant should behave, practicing our language, putting a good word about her with the other maids when an opportunity presented itself. I did my best to be a friend to Winter, but there was also a petty part of me that was just glad that I was not in her place…

  “There is no slave that never thought about freedom” I replied whispering after I double-checked that we were alone, that was not something that we could talk openly. “But did I ever truly consider it? No.

  “I like my life here. I do a job that I'm good at, and I am a concubine to a man who treats me much better than someone of my status deserves. You know about the food shortage in the city; the countryside is a lot worse. It's true that we have some restrictions now, but here we are, nibbling cheese in the middle of the night without any worry that we'll go hungry in the future.

  “But let’s put all that aside, if I try to flee, where would I go? What would I do? We are registered slaves. Any kingdom that has ties with the Guild will discover that I was a runaway if I try to live in a city or was ever questioned by a guard. I know a little about foraging so I could try to live in a forest, but I don’t fancy my chances of surviving an encounter with a wild boar or a pack of wolves, and I am not even talking about monsters here.”

  I took a sip. Winter was looking at her reflection in the teacup that she was holding with both hands, deep in thought.

  “I would rather starve in the frozen wastes” she said quietly to herself in Northen, language that I understood the basics due to our interactions. Her eyes let escape a glimpse of the naked hatred that she tried so hard to conceal.

  Being a slave was all I ever knew, so I had no strong feelings about it. But she saw her own life being stolen and was mistreated through no fault of her own. At times, she lapsed, letting a small crack appear in her mask, and I could see all the resentment boiling inside her.

  I put my arms around her in a half hug.

  “I will not say what you should do, but your reality is what it is. Things will not go back to how they were before. The more you resist, the more you cling to the past, the worse it will get.”

  I got up.

  “It is almost morning, and I need to get dressed, today will be busy. If you need to talk more, just ask. I don’t know if I will be able to help, but I can at least listen to you.”

  She nodded affirmatively as I left, still looking at her reflection.

  I don’t know why, but I always pictured her as a beautiful white hare, locked in a cage together with a pack of ravenous wolves. Unable to flee, unable to fight, standing still as her only defense, full of anguish, fear and resentment that she needed to hide at any cost.

  It was something I was deeply ashamed of, but I was so glad I was not her.