The wooden door creaked open. A slender shadow stretched across the stone floor, flickering under the dim candlelight. The girl stepped inside, her midnight-black hair shimmering in the warm glow of the flames. Carefully, she arranged the plates on the table. Her hands trembled ever so slightly, yet her face remained calm and expressionless.
At the center of the table sat a crimson dish filled with coiled serpents. They were still alive, their small, sharp eyes glinting in the dim light. Aged wine rested in crystal goblets, waiting. In a corner of the table, a vase of withered flowers stood, an eerie blend of life and death.
Every night, before serving dinner, the girl followed a precise routine: she meticulously extracted the venom from the snakes, drop by drop, ensuring the king’s meal posed no danger to him. It was part of her duty. But tonight, something had changed. Her hands glided over the serpents' bodies, yet this time, she did not take their venom. For the first time, it remained where it was, deep within the sharpest of fangs, waiting for the moment that would grant her freedom.
The king appeared in the doorway. His face, as always, was cold and unreadable. He walked toward the table and sat in his grand chair. His gaze fell upon the girl—the same beautiful girl he had brought to the palace long ago. No one knew where she had come from, what her name was, or why she was here. The only certainty was that every night, she prepared his meals, and every night, he ate a serpent.
His eyes lingered on her longer than usual. Something about her seemed different tonight.
The girl pushed the crimson dish forward. The serpents lay still, intertwined in silent surrender. The king picked up his fork. His knife sank into the snake’s soft flesh, carving the first bite.
— "Why so quiet tonight?" His rough voice echoed through the hall.
The girl gave a faint smile. "It’s nothing, my lord. I simply wish to see how you enjoy your meal tonight."
The king smirked and swallowed another bite. A strange bitterness lingered on his tongue, but he paid it no mind. He took another piece. Then, he drank from his goblet of aged wine.
Moments passed. The fork slipped from his fingers. His hand clutched at his throat. His eyes reddened. His breaths turned ragged and shallow. He struggled to speak, but no sound escaped his lips. The world spun around him.
The girl stood still, silent, watching.
The king coughed, dry and desperate. He tried to rise, but his legs failed him. The venom coursed through his veins like liquid fire. His gaze drifted past the girl to the wallpaper behind her, where an image of himself was painted beside a coiled serpent. It had always been there, but tonight, it bore a new meaning.
The king collapsed. His heavy body hit the ground. The wine spilled across the aged carpet, deep red spreading like blood. Silence fell over the room.
The girl took a deep breath. For the first time, she felt the air of freedom fill her lungs. She reached for the wine jug, her fingers resting on it for a moment. Her eyes flickered toward the lifeless king, then to the door.
It was no longer locked. There was no one left to keep her here.
With steady hands, she picked up the jug and stepped forward, never once looking back.
Tonight, she would no longer prepare anyone’s supper.