Bela still couldn't understand why Erika insisted on confessing to Mother other than wanting to keep on her good side. And to keep her position of Lady's Maid secured. Fair reasons, but still not good enough. Her mother had already destroyed one room in her rage, and Bela knew better than to try and defend Erika.
Bela can't decide if the young woman is brave, or stupid. But still, it was better than having her sent to the dungeons.
The single minute felt like an eternity as Bela had to guard the scullery maids, as she had to listen to Erika's pain-driven wails. Even with her sister's sadistic laughter, even with Gretta's voice ringing in her ears, it was all drowned out by Erika's screaming. The wordless, pleading and agony as her sister was merciless.
Cassandra's laughing as she pummeled Erika grated on Bela's skin, and she had to grip her sickle to hide her shaking.
When it's over, the maids are ordered back into the kitchen without another word. They trembled and sobbed and kept asking, "Why? Why?"
Bela doesn't even know why her mother bothered bringing them in here – except that they are narrowly associated with Erika. The group had been seen talking amongst themselves in the kitchen in Erika's early days at the castle, but they're all far from friends.
That is, unless her mother is trying to teach the others a lesson through Erika, and spread fear through the other three.
As Erika lays there unconscious, Bela grinds her teeth as her mother praises Cassandra with little criticism. She tried not to remind her mother of the many times Cassandra beat many servants to death, not that it would matter at this point. It was over and done with, and now Erika is Bela's once more. Despite the claim she made on the young woman, Mother's word outweighs her own.
Once her mother and sisters had left, Bela carefully walks over to her and rolls Erika onto her back. She ignores the sweet smell of the young woman's blood staining the carpet. Her breaths are shallow, but she is alive – barely. Cassandra loves to push her limits too often.
Oh, her nose is definitely broken, and she's going to be decorated in bruises for who knows how long. At least Cassandra was too frenzied to aim for Erika's throat.
There are gentle footsteps behind her, and Bela looks over her shoulder to find Helga standing there, hands folded at her front, her spine ramrod straight. But her face is tightened with an expression Bela can only describe as a mixture of sickened, disturbed, and quivering relief.
With expert quiet, she mutters, "I thought you spoke to your mother already."
Bela looks back down as she sets Erika's head in her lap. "I did, but she insisted on facing her."
"Did you even try to talk her out of it?"
Bela's answering snarl is enough. "Watch yourself, housekeeper."
The eldest daughter carefully checks over Erika, her fingers grazing over the young woman's battered body. No broken bones, safe for her nose, but she will be in a lot of pain over the next couple of weeks. But she's still expected to work.
"We should get her to bed." Helga carefully suggests.
Bela nods, and gently she slips her arms under Erika's shoulders and knees, easing her from the floor. She's heavier than Bela expected – as though despite her time facing starvation, her body desperately clung to whatever mass it could spare. Her head rests against the nape of Bela's neck, and the eldest daughter forces herself to resist the honey-glazed smell Erika's blood seems to hold. Honey and dew-kissed grass.
With feline grace, Bela exists the dining room – Helga holding the doors – and walks back towards Erika's rooms; her gait smooth as if she were trying not to wake the unconscious girl. Erika doesn't stir once.
While Helga trails behind them, Bela angles her head until her lips and nose are pressed against Erika's hairline. She takes another deep breath – the temptation a writhing oil in her core.
"I just don't understand," Helga mutters behind her. "Did she want to prove something? Or try to get back into the Mistress's good graces?"
"Either or. But I prefer the conclusion that humans are stupid and prideful."
Helga gives a huff of a laugh in agreement.
They pass another servant, whom Helga orders to fetch some first aid before they reach Erika's rooms. Helga opens the door for them.
Bela aims for the bed, and Helga steps ahead of her to pull back the sheets and align some pillows. The housekeeper then proceeds to remove Erika's boots and jacket. She almost seemed inclined to remove the young woman's clothes, but the only blood had come from her nose and mouth.
Bela sets Erika down onto the bed, tucking a strand of her blood-stained hair behind her ears. It's a tangled mess with spots of crimson, her oddly bent nose enough to make Bela's own twinge.
There's the sound of running water and Bela looks towards the now-open bathroom door. Helga emerges seconds later with a wet towel in her hand. Bela steps aside to let the housekeeper wipe away the blood on Erika's face. She's immaculately gentle as she navigates around her broken nose. Bela ignores the urge to growl.
After a moment of quiet, Helga says, "Maybe she did make the right decision."
"What?"
Helga tucks another strand of hair behind Erika's ear. Still the young woman doesn't even stir. "Had she not confronted her sooner, your mother might've come up with a much worse punishment for deceiving her."
Bela knew better than to argue. Her mother has killed many other servants for far simpler reasons. The only reason Erika is still alive is because Bela insisted that she needed and wanted her as her servant – her new toy. But even after her initial meeting and negotiations, Bela knew there would be a grudge; a thin veil of bitterness that would indeed manifest at the soonest opportunity.
Bela explores the rest of Erika's face. Her jaw isn't broken, and though her eyes are swollen, and her lip is split, the worst damage is to her nose. By Erika confronting her, admitting her mistake – and receiving a punishment – what else is there for her mother to do? Watch her, perhaps.
Suddenly Erika takes a sharp inhale of breath and her head rolls as her chest rises. Helga steps back, folding the rag to a clean side. Something in Bela's chest flutters as Erika's eyes blink open, but it quickly sinks as the woman winces in pain.
"Erika?"
She tries to stand, but her legs shake so badly that she can't move. "Bela?" She breathes, and the sheets dip as the eldest daughter sits on the edge of the bed.
"You're going to be okay, Erika. We're back in your room."
"My face-"
Helga moves around Bela, carefully approaching the girl as if she were a cornered animal. That's she's even conscious is remarkable, in its own way. Most women would be out for the rest of the day. "You've certainly looked better, but, you're alive."
She fights the tears – they were pointless, anyway. "The last thing I remember was . . . Gretta, Nadine, and Bianca . . . are they okay, did Dimitrescu –"
"They're fine, Erika," Helga says sharply. "But next time, don't go about trading secrets within this castle. You could've just asked instead of trying to put your life on the line. How could you be so stupid?"
"Well, I'm here now!" She says, louder than was wise. "I'm here, and there's nothing that can be done about it," Her teal eyes flick to Bela, "so don't bother telling me about my weak human flesh and my stupidity! I know all that, and I . . ." Bela can tell she wants to cover her face in her hands, but it hurts too much. "I just . . . I didn't want to lose my progress. This is probably better than what might've conjured had I not been upfront."
Bela leans back on the heels of her palms. "You might be stupid, but you sure know how to read a room." Erika manages to nod without blacking out from the pain. Her agony makes Helga wince. "Well, at least you don't have to sneak and lie anymore. Let's clean you up a bit."
As if on cue, there's a knock on her front doors. Helga gets up to answer, Bela slipping of out the door's view. She'd rather not hear from her sisters about feeling empathy or pity. Cassandra would never let her live it down. Helga gives brief and stern thanks before shutting the door and walking back over to Erika. Bela steps up to her side.
"I think my nose is broken. But nothing else." Erika says as her fingers gently trail over her face. She winces.
Bela glances over her shoulder, checking the door. "I think they'll let you off for the day, but we need to get you presentable for tomorrow," she says, and then studies Erika's nose. The young woman braces herself as she allows Bela to gently touch it. Even the graze of her fingertips sent flashes of burning pain through Erika, if her gritted teeth and flooding tears is any indication. "I'm going to have to set it before we can heal it."
She watches Erika clamp down on her blind panic. "Do it. Right now."
Bela hesitates.
"Now," she pants.
Before she could wallow in cowardice and change her mind.
Too swift for her to follow, Bela's fingers latch onto Erika's nose. Something thick and greasy rocks Bela's stomach as a crack bursts through her ears, her head, before Erika faints.
Bela takes a hesitant step back, that greasy feeling growing into something that quickened her heart. But Erika's chest rises and falls, her mind black.
Helga steps forward and begins working on Erika's face: wiping away the rest of the blood, placing warm towelettes on her face to ease the swelling, cleaning her hair and removing the stained shirt – that of which Bela helped with, but looked away as Helga set to remove the pants. Erika had a tin salve from earlier, and the housekeeper is quite liberal as she smears it all across the young woman's face.
Bela ends up standing at the end of the bed, clinging to a bedpost as Helga works over the girl like a war nurse. The eldest daughter is almost tempted to ask if she can help with anything further, but the housekeeper seems intently focused; just as Erika had been during their hunt this morning. Bela knew better than to shatter that concentration.
When Erika comes to almost an hour later, she can open both eyes fully, and no agony sent splintering pain through her face. Her teal eyes flick to Helga – of whom is in the process of grinding up some ibuprofen in a cup of warm chamomile tea – and the recognition softens her features. She seems to relax further into the mattress. She looks down and lifts her brows at her bare torso. Everything gone, safe for her intimates, the sheet pulled up to cover her breasts.
Helga says with a heartbreakingly gentle voice, "I couldn't heal you completely – some things just have to heal on their own. The bruises are there, along with a hideous black eye, but . . . most of the swelling's gone already."
"And my nose?" Erika says, feeling it before she answers.
"Fixed – as pert and pretty as before." She says, and Erika smirks at her. The familiar gesture makes Bela's chest tighten to the point of pain. Helga reaches for the cup. "Here, drink this. It'll help with the headache."
Erika obeys, carefully angling the cup to her lips. She swallows the whole think in four gulps. As she hands back the cup, those teal eyes look to Bela. "You're still here?"
The question unsettles the daughter more than she thought it would. "I had to make sure she didn't just finish you off."
Erika snorts. Helga pays it no mind. "I thought you would at least trust her after all these years."
"I rarely trust anyone."
She shrugs, Helga handing her a clean cup of tea. "So, what's our plan for tomorrow?"
Bela shrugs. "Same as usual; as expected."
"Of course." Erika grumbles.
After a moment of silence, Helga waiting patiently for Erika to finish her cup, Bela says. "Well, I'll take my leave then. I'll see you tomorrow."
She turns and leaves, ignoring a warmth blooming on her cheeks.
"Bela," Erika calls. The eldest stops short of the door before turning back. "Thank you, for your help."
Bela inclines her chin. "I'll see you tomorrow." And leaves without another word.
The following dawn, Bela opens Erika's bedroom door, her stalking gait echoing throughout the room.
Bela Dimitrescu stops short when she finds Erika dangling from the beam of the bedroom doorway, repeatedly hoisting herself up to touch her chin to the wooden bar. Sweat soaks the thing white band around her breasts and runs in rivulets down her deeply bruised, pale skin. Her arms quiver as she lifts herself again.
Her body must be screaming for her to stop with every repetition, and yet she continues. The sight stuns the eldest daughter to the point of just watching. Watching the black and purple and blue and brown ripple in the sunlight. Bela didn't even comprehend that Erika could exercise herself in addition to the use of her weaponry.
She already has an edge on the rest of the staff. But she must want it to be a bit sharper.
Erika doesn't pause her exercising as she smiles at Bela, panting through her clenched teeth. Bela doesn't hesitate to smile back.