Sara and the Conqueror
I was standing by the balcony window, watching the moon climb higher into the sky, when the door creaked open.
Sara entered, carrying a tray of fresh bandages and a basin of warm, herb-infused water. She was dressed in the simple, drab gray linen of the servants, but she still carried herself with a quiet, infuriatingly noble grace that no rag could ever truly hide.
"I am here to check the progress of the tissue regeneration," she said, her voice neutral and devoid of emotion. She didn't kneel. She didn't look at the floor in submission. She simply stood and waited for my compliance.