Page 41 of A Broken Promise

I would eventually let go of the soul-crushing sounds, forget the screams, the falling ash from never ending fire—but it would take time.

Time seemed to be the only currency life took.

21

“See you tomorrow!” I waved to the large lady behind the counter. Nadine was one of my favorite vendors, always friendly and helpful; the owner of a well-known butcher shop in Svitar. I wrapped my sack across my shoulders, and I finally strolled back home.

It’d been a month since we arrived in Svitar, walking its white cobblestone streets daily. Smells of fresh laundry and blooming flowers ran through the streets, petting my nose.

The City of Light, Svitar was built on a spacious hill, with the Royal Castle and its golden roof shining at the very top. Limestone townhomes and condos filled the never-ending streets. It took me a few days just to adjust to the sheer brightness of the city. All of the buildings were either made of the white stone or painted white, contrasting with the black doors and window frames, as if the whole city was uniformed. Flower beds lining up their porches and window wells were the only bits of color to the monochromatic palette.

People in Svitar were different too, so unbothered by the realities of the lands behind the city wall. The world was exciting in Svitar.

And I loved it.

I loved visiting the Fashion Corner just to see the outrageous outfits of the fashionistas and the store galleries airing the mostdare some clothing. I loved going down to the Wing Market, where you could find any manner of small trinkets and unique objects; to the Artists Hill, where night and day, various artists sat with their brushes and their paints making small strokes on their large canvases, painting the gorgeous view of the city; or the Library of Light that was so quiet yet filled with never ending books; and there was so much more.

I was in love with it all.

I walked up the short steps leading to the bulky golden gates. Sizeable carriages were driving up and down the road. Golden Quarters was the most beautiful part of city; I knew it from the moment I took my first step there.

Priya enjoyed luxury so it wasn’t surprising that she lived in this neighborhood. Unlike the rest of the town made from limestone, the Golden Quarters’ roads were made from pure white marble, scuffed and buffed daily. Narrow townhouses became brilliant manors with large columns and statues, golden fences and exquisite gardens, guards and lackeys always standing watch. Staired sidewalks were perfectly clean, with nicely trimmed trees providing shade from the soft fall sun.

Priya’s manor shimmered past the golden gate. It was made with fluorescent opal material, making it sparkle as if a diamond against the rays of sun. The large columns and wide stairs decorated the front façade. Enormous gargoyle statues guarded the huge, dark, wood double doors.

It was not the largest house on the street, but it had the most land. Perfectly green lawns with precision cut bushes, and full blooming flowers, bird baths and a large fountain welcomed me back. A piece of paradise.

“I’m back!” I shouted, walking in the house and closing the door behind me.

Priya was lounging on a round, bright red couch. Her head on the pillow and legs resting above. Her large, silk robe with peacock feathers wide open, exposing her lacy underwear and skintight cropped shirt. Priya’s long, chestnut locks dangled onto the floor. Instead of sitting up, she just flipped her head upside-down and yelled across the open hall at me.

“Did you get it?” she asked, looking at my sack.

I nodded, taking the sack off my shoulder.

“Oh good! This trashy neighborhood is going to be so jealous. In fact, I am going to send a postcard to that bitch Clara just to let her know.” Priya smirked. Nadine was famous for her tender, marbled, cubed steaks—a delicacy even for the rich.

I was pretty sure that Priya spent an outrageous amount of money bidding on the steaks before the calf was even killed so that her neighbors wouldn’t get them. I had come to learn that Priya highly disliked her neighbors. She highly disliked people in general, but especially the “rich pricks” living in these Quarters. Though quite an ironic view, considering she was most definitely rich and also living in these Quarters.

Ratika, an older lady, peaked through the small door leading to the kitchen.

“I heard you got something for me?” she whispered quietly, poking just her head through the door.

“Oh, yes.” I turned to her and handed off the satchel. She nodded in gratitude and disappeared right away.

I liked Ratika; she was extremely quiet, almost like a ghost, but cooked food like a god.

Unlike everyone else in the neighborhood, Priya had extremely limited staff living on site: just Ratika and I. Occasionally she had Ovaya, and a couple of her girls come do the cleaning, and Diego and his crew maintaining the gardens. Yet in this huge manor filled with never ending rooms, all kinds of luxury tapestry, statues and artifacts, it was just the three of us.

“Training room in ten.” Priya finally got up and started walking up the broad staircase, carved out of pure brown marbled stone, covered with thick, plush carpet down the middle. At the top, it split in half, leading to another two sets of the same staircase going up to two wings of the house.

I walked down the stairs leading to the basement. Even though Priya called it a trainingroom, it was so much more than that. A large gymnasium, filled with all manner of equipment, a fighting ring, anarmory and its adjoining weapons training area, and even a large dance floor with a ballet bar. The entire left wall of the pavilion was covered in mirrors going all the way to the ceilings. Even though there were no windows, the entire place was well lit by sizable lamps attached to the large wooden fans, slowly cutting through air.

At first, training hurt—pained me to the point of giving up—but day after day, I kept going. Priya pushed me to utter exhaustion each time. But truthfully, I started to enjoy it, curious to see that line, that edge, pushed further and further with each day. I was stronger than I had ever been, more capable and trained. And it felt good. It felt empowering. It felt so damn right.

I smiled, eyeing the sparring mats in the middle, reminiscing on the many times I fell asleep on those mats after deciding it was not worth the climb over three flights of stairs to my room.

We trained here for hours, multiple times a day. Occasionally, Priya would take a day of rest, but on those days I trained alone. There was something primal in me, awakened from the years of slumber. A part of me that was always there but never nourished, never nurtured…not until now. In the moments—when the breaths became shallow and sweat covered my body and each muscle trembled on the edge of collapsing—in those moments, I felt alive.

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