“Use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping?”

  — William Shakespeare, Hamlet

  Moonlight streamed into the room and fell on Akila's tear-stained face; she couldn't remember how long she had been crying, but she didn't need to, because her severely swollen eyelids, the burst blood vessels in her eyes, and the frozen trails of tears on her cheeks answered that question better than any words could.

  She was lying on a bed in the servants' quarters; it was not as luxurious as the other rooms in the palace, but it did not look too poor either: each servant had their own bed to sleep on and their own chest for clothes and other belongings — this was already much more than any of them had ever seen in their lives. They also ate well — they were given meat, fish, and fruit. They were given bread, they were given honey. They were given everything they needed for a good life.

  But in order to have all this, each of them had to give up the most important part of any happy life: freedom.

  Akila was not stupid and naive like her brother; she understood that complete freedom did not exist, and even if it did, it would be no better than tyranny. In general, the choice between anarchy and tyranny was equivalent to choosing between shit and piss: neither was good. After all, in any case, only those with more power or strength survive. Akila was sure that she would survive in an anarchic state, but she also understood that it would be completely unfair to other people who were not as stress-resistant as she was. And if before she didn't give a damn about anything except herself and her younger brother, her arrival at the palace changed that trait in her.

  After witnessing the murder of her brother, the Crown Prince, she could not contain her emotions, no matter how hard she tried, and it so happened that her roommates, who were maids like her, were with her during those moments and supported her as best they could.

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  The servants, especially the women, knew better than anyone how difficult life at the palace was. When you are essentially a nobody, you have literally no rights; you are simply used as a tool. And it wasn't that they were forced to clean and cook, but that they were used as pawns in political intrigues, pitted against each other, forced to do the "dirty" work and take responsibility for it. And the worst thing was that even if you asked someone with a lot of power for protection, they wouldn't help you, because how could you trust some servant who was literally picked up from the rubbish heap, right? She must be lying, which means she needs to be killed.

  Akila went through this herself; the first week after arriving at the palace, she allowed herself to hope that things would be better here, but then her hopes were dashed. Guards and higher-ranking officials often harassed her; some important people tried to force her to do "dirty" work, promising more privileges, and when she refused, threatening her with death and long, painful torture.

  But she did not break. Never. Even when all her fingernails were torn out; even when she was beaten half to death; even when she was raped by several men at once. She did not break. She was not going to break.

  Akila knew she had to survive for her younger brother. She understood that her life would not get better, but she did not need it to, because all she wanted was a better life for her younger brother. She never mentioned him anywhere and kept the fact that she had a brother a secret so that no one could use this information to blackmail her.

  She held on; Akil, after all, was just an older sister — her only purpose was to protect her naive and foolish younger brother. And she did not resist this fate, but simply accepted it.

  After all, she was just a slave, a servant, a sex toy, a tool — but not a human being. Her brother was lucky enough to join the Royal Guard and work there. She didn't know how he was doing, as she had strictly forbidden him from contacting her, explaining that it could put them both in danger.

  However, she sometimes saw him at the palace, and she could tell from his appearance that he was feeling well—that was the most important thing for her, and she did not care how much suffering she would have to endure to keep it that way.

  However, now that her brother had died, she had no reason to continue to endure everything that was happening.

  She wiped the tears that had welled up in her eyes again and, sniffing, whispered quietly:

  "I will destroy you all," her eyes flashed with rage, "whatever it takes."