~Hello and good evening everyone! I'm so sorry I didn't update for a while; July has been busy for me . . . (as well as getting distracted watching Exandria Unlimited and catching up on The Mighty Nein . . . I admit that)

But I hope you guys enjoy this new chapter, and thank you all so much for your constant support and eagerness for this story! Everyone stay safe and healthy, and have a great day!

KeshaRocks~

I never saw Daniela during the couple of hours of breakfast. I assume she must've come from the courtyard. But my mind is so filled with roiling questions about Bela's offer that the time seemed to have slipped past me. I've barely glanced at the clock, and when I do, breakfast is over.

I still tend to the mopping, looking busy as I wait for Helga to fetch me. Lady Dimitrescu said she would arrive once they were finished; but I guess instead of finishing food, it must've meant conversation. I don't mind if she never comes for me, but that doesn't seem likely. Not from Helga. Or maybe Lady Dimitrescu will get so distracted by her daughters that she'll forget our meeting entirely.

Unfortunately, I'm not granted such luxury. Even when I expect her, when Helga bursts through the door twenty minutes after her suggested time, I jolt, clutching the mop to me like a cat to a tree.

Her brisk stride has me loosening my grip, and I barely get a word out before she hooks her hand in my elbow and I'm practically yanked towards the stairs. I stumble over my feet as I try to keep pace with her.

"What's going on?"

Without sparing me a glance, she says, "It's happening."

"What?"

"You're meeting. I've been instructed to clean, dress, and guide you."

"That much I knew, but why the quick march?"

She sighs heavily. "They got lost in conversation, and My Lady still expects me to get you to her meeting within twenty minutes time."

My throat tightens. Twenty minutes to clean and dress myself and still trek across the castle to wherever she decides to have this meeting. Or else we both lose our heads.

I quicken my feet until I'm ahead of Helga, and she tells me to head to the first door on the right. I burst through it and immediately spot the bathroom, making a beeline for it without instruction.

I'm relieved to find the tub full, with the surface covered from lip to lip with bubbles. I can't admire it as I stirp myself naked and dunk my feet in with a heavy clap of water. I sigh at the heat of the water that comes up to my calves and grab the nearest washcloth before drowning it in the water and working on my arms.

I make sure to clean my underarms and along the places on my body that gathers sweat. I don't bother washing my hair, but I pin it up as I wash along the nape of my neck and the places of my back that I can reach. I grab a vacant pitcher and fill it with the tub water before dumping it on my head. I do my best to rinse myself, making the most of what I can since this might be my only bath for another long while.

When I'm sure that I've gotten every ounce of soap, I step out onto the mat and pull a towel from the rack. Helga thrusts the bathroom door open as I'm wiping down my legs, and I squeak in surprise, instinctively covering my bare chest and waist. She barely bats an eye as she hurries me out.

For a moment, I pause, the tiny seed of fear burying its way into my brain – I haven't seen that cold glare since my first day here. It had warmed as my weeks progressed, until I thought we were building some kind of mutual respect.

To see her maternity just disappear is, unnerving. And it reminds me to keep my guard up.

When I'm dried and moisturized with lotion, I find Helga left an outfit for me draped across the bed. Tight black pants, a long-sleeved burgundy tunic, and leather boots. Helga puts my hair in a braid across the crown of my head, into a coronet. This is the first time since my starting day that I resemble myself. No fancy hair and clothes. Just me. Looking like I could be headed for the woods. It calms me, a little.

Barley allowed a moment to breathe, Helga takes my arm again and guides me back down the stairs into the main hall, and then off through the double doors into the courtyard.

I make a mental note of the lack of other servants we encounter. The halls of the castle oddly, disturbingly quiet.

She takes me on an unfamiliar route – or perhaps one that I haven't visited since the tour – and soon I'm following her down a long stretch of hallway towards a room at its very end.

The ornate, double oak doors lead into what I can only assume is a ballroom – with its black and white tiled floors, the decorated columns that act as sentinels to alcoves that vary from seats, to doors, and windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. Each flanked by velvet crimson drapes. As we get to the doorway, I see several tiered chandeliers hanging along the length of the room. The center of the ceiling has been replaced with a long skylight, allowing a wide glimpse of a cloudy, blue sky. And at the epicenter of the floor sits the crest of House Dimitrescu – two swords sheathed behind a bundle of flowers.

Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters have already seated themselves at a table that holds a three-tier dessert tray, and a steaming pot of tea. The Mistress notices our presence first and lifts her hand in greeting while her daughters take casual sips.

Bela sits in the middle, completely uncaring and indifferent of my presence. I don't dare bring up our deal, and because Cassandra is looking at me with that ravaging hunger, I look around the ballroom once again.

It is then that I notice the rack of weapons poised just a few feet away from the Dimitrescu family. Or rather, a rack of bows. Bows made of wood and plastic and metal and materials I can't even name. Arrows with feathers cut in flawless uniform lines, their balance impeccable. I don't know if these were just pulled from their armory, or if they had been freshly forged, just for me. For this test, whatever it's going to contribute to.

My eyes dip to the floor, and I notice a break in the tiles' pattern – obscured by a stretch of white tape, no longer than two feet.

They've converted this into a shooting range. For me.

The wonder of why, and the possibility of failure has me swallowing as I stop at Helga's side. She curtseys, and I follow with a bow at the waist, a strand of my cornsilk hair tickling my cheek.

"Well done, Helga. Early as usual. I expect nothing less."

Helga stays in her low curtsey. "I'm flattered by your compliment, My Lady."

In my periphery, I see Helga move, and follow her lead as I straighten. I blink to steady my fear and surprise as I find the entire family staring at me.

Lady Dimitrescu starts. "Erika, dear, as we've conversed before, we've talked about your skills in hunting and trade. You've demonstrated your eye and sense in trade, and now I'd like to test your hunting skills. At least, weapon wise. I know very little of what else pertains to the craft, but what I'm interested in is your skills in weaponry."

My eyes flick to Bela, and her eyes look over my shoulder. And then I see the crowd of gathered servants along the inner wall of the ballroom, to the right of the door, hidden from sight when we first walked in.

Kathryn is in the front, huddled between Gretta and Nadine. Bianca to Gretta's right. She purposely avoids my eyes, scanning about the rest of the ballroom as if she's never seen it before. Apart from the kitchen staff – including Astrid and Melina – I don't know most of the other servants. I recognize a few faces from passing glances in the hall, but I never took the time to talk to them. As they didn't for me. The lack of seeing the laundress, and that other servant girl Camelia makes a weight settle in my stomach. I fight the shudder of remembering that her head is spiked on one of the statues in the courtyard. And that woman-demon-creature. Dandora, was her name.

This is more than a test – it is practically a trial for my life. If I manage to impress them, the others will know my skill; maybe it'll even explain why the daughters were so interested in me.

On the other hand, if I fail, they all have to watch my blood splatter across the tiles.

I don't see any guns available in the room – which is surprising, as I'd figured she might collect some around the castle; ancestry heirlooms or of the like, and I doubt most of the other women here know how to properly use one. On the other hand, I should expect a woman like her to leave the staff defenseless. Guns also don't seem like her kind of thing.

I shift from foot to foot. "What am I to do, My Lady? How, am I to do?"

"Demonstrate your shooting abilities, dear. We'd like to see if your talent is legitimized."

So, nothing to the standard of keeping score. Just proving how good I am.

Should be simple enough; I'm not competing with anyone. And if I can impress them enough, I'll be able to escape from this hellhole, at least for a few hours a day. Which is more than needed to help keep my sanity.

I give a bow of my head, and when she nods my dismissal, I smooth my hair, set my shoulders back, and walk over to the rack of bows. I choose one of ash wood, string it, and sling the matching quiver of arrows over my shoulder.

I look back over to the Dimitrescu family, Helga standing at their side. I see her inconspicuously dip her chin. Lady Dimitrescu lifts her glass to me with a smile. Cassandra and Daniela smile, and only Bela gives a near matching expression to Helga's – almost as if she too is eager for my success.

None of the other servants say anything, not even a giggle or a hiss or a sigh of boredom. Perhaps because of the family sitting no further than ten feet.

I take a deep breath and suddenly, I find myself standing at the white line, looking at the vast length of the room before me. Cassandra and Daniela chuckle — albeit quietly — and I keep my head held high as I reach over my shoulder for an arrow and nock it into my bow.

I've killed game from longer shots than the farthest target. Clean shots, too. Right through the throat.

I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry.

I pull back my bow, the sore muscles in my arm aching with the effort. I shut out noise, shut out movement, shut out anything other than the sound of my breathing as my focus narrows on the first target. I take a steady breath. As I exhale, I let the arrow fly.

Bull's-eye.

The tightness in my stomach abates, and I sigh through my nose. It isn't an absolute bull's-eye, but I wasn't aiming for it, anyway.

Some women collectively gasp, but I pay them no heed as I nock another arrow and fire at the second target. I aim for the edge of the innermost ring, which I hit with deadly precision. I could have made an entire circle of arrows, if I wanted. And if I had enough ammunition.

I get another bull's-eye on the third target—aiming for the edge, but landing within the border. I did the same for the fourth target, but aim for the opposite side of the bull's-eye. Where I aim, the arrow meets its mark.

As I reach for my last arrow, I hear one of the servants, a lanky red-haired girl named Ren, snigger. I clench my bow tightly enough for the wood to groan, and pull back my final shot.

The target is little more than a blur of color, so far back that its bull's-eye is a grain of sand in the vastness of the room. I can't see the little dot in its center—the dot that I purposely have yet to touch. My arm trembles with effort as I pull the string back a bit farther and fire.

The arrow hits the absolute center, obliterating the black dot.

They stop laughing.

I can't decide if it's because of the feeling of having a weapon in my hands, or because I'm thoroughly enjoying the wide eyes of the staff, or because I'm suddenly fueled with determination to show the Dimitrescu family just how skilled I am – but I go back over and grab another set of arrows from another quiver and place them in my own before stalking back over to the white line.

I draw and arrow and nock it to the string. My focus narrows to the small, black dot in the center of the closest target. I steady my breathing as pull the string back, the bow groaning in my gripping hand. The sounds of the other servants fades. The blackness of the bull's-eye beckons, and as I exhale, I send the arrow flying.

It gleams, a shooting star of steel and wood. I smile grimly as it strikes home. I redraw and fire again.

Again, and again, and again, within the span of a few seconds.

I practiced this on off days in my backyard, an idea I turned into technique to take out large flocks of birds. A rifle and shotgun helped pick off a few with when close to the ground. If I could do it with a gun, I wanted to do it with a bow. I wasn't going to miss an opportunity because that thunderous crack scared them off.

And when the sound of my final shot stops echoing in the suddenly silent chamber, my heart soars through my chest. Five bull's-eyes.

Then I draw the bow with my left hand, and fight a whoop of triumph as the arrow sinks into the shaft of another.

Time seems to slow, and I watch as the tip of the arrow pierces the end of the shaft of the impaled one.

It maintains its trajectory all the way down until it too buries itself to the fletching in the target.

The halves of the splintered arrow sway in the slightest draft of the castle.

I turn to the Dimitrescu family, aware of palpable silence emanating from the staff. Lady Dimitrescu, Bela and Daniela nod their approval. Daniela almost looking impressed. Cassandra still stares at me with that hunger, only it's laced a minx's smile. I lift my shoulders as I approach.

"Impressive." She purrs, swirling what I can only assume is wine, in her crimson glass. "How many animals would that be?"

My grip on the bow tightens. "As many as I shot." I say, then I give a slight bow. Daniela giggles. "In combination with the snare traps I can set, and scavenging for wild berries or of the like, and maybe even some fish if I come across a creek . . . I'd argue that's . . . close to forty animals. A rough estimate."

"How so?"

"When it comes to fish, I'm so used to them measuring by the pound than by quantity."

I cast a quick glance and find Kathryn leaning against a column, arms folded and a scowl on her face. She sneers at me with disdain, and the disappointment in my chest shouldn't have hurt as much as it did – but it still pinches my chest.

"Well," Lady Dimitrescu continues, snapping my attention back to her. "I think you would make a wonderful hunter for House Dimitrescu, as well as the house's trader – when necessary, and only for the game you bring to the castle. I take it trading animals is more your, forte."

"Yes, My Lady. Thank you."

"Mother," Bela then pipes, and I stiffen. Everyone turns to her, and I don't dare look over to the servants still gathered. I thought they'd be allowed to leave once I wasn't dead, but – "I wish to make Erika my personal servant."

The proposition echoes throughout the ballroom.

I see Lady Dimitrescu still as she takes a sip from her glass, but quickly recovers as she finishes. "Pardon, dear?"

"I want Erika to be my personal servant." Bela repeats, her tone unfaltering and eyes focused.

Cassandra's chair squeaks against the polished tile as she abruptly stands. "Preposterous! Mother, you can't possibly allow this!"

Bela's face reveals nothing. She simply turns to her mother. "I haven't had a good toy in a while. And I think I deserve something nice."

Cassandra places her palms flat on the table and leans in. "You've never had a care for a servant before. Why now?"

"Did I stutter?" Bela asks coyly with a deadly grin. "I haven't gotten my own toy in a while, and I feel like I've done enough to deserve something nice." She looks to Lady Dimitrescu. "Please, Mother?" she says in the most droning whine I've ever heard.

"This isn't fair!" Daniela pipes, slapping the table and rattling the silverware. "I was going to ask Mother for the same! You love me the most, right?"

"Mother always praises me." Bela snaps.

"Both of you are delusional! Mother, you can't let this happen!"

"Like you've never done so before, Cassandra?" Bela sneers. "What do you care what I do with her?"

Cassandra's deadly smile returns. "Because I wanted to play with her. We had plans."

In seconds the three daughters are bickering, talking over each other with sharpened gestures and snarling teeth. I take three careful steps back. And I don't dare interrupt them. Their voices grow into shouts, and just as I see Cassandra palm her sickle –

"Now, now daughters. That is enough." Lady Dimitrescu's voice carries across the ballroom, her irk shown as she plants her glass on the table. She stands as she pats her lips with a napkin. "I don't know what has you so fascinated about this young lady, but I will not have it upsetting you all. Bela, I will honor your request. Erika will be your personal servant once she's fulfilled her duties from the morning to afternoons." She looks to me. "Once you are done with your, gatherings, you are to change and report to Bela's rooms to take care of her however she sees fit."

"But Mother –!" Cassandra begins to shriek, only to be cut off with Lady Dimitrescu's hand gripping her chin.

"My decision is final." She casts a glance over to Daniela whose hands are fisted at her side. "If Camelia was anything, it showed me how unrestrained you girls are. And perhaps that is my fault. But as of now, we can't afford to lose more than what we have." She grips hard enough that the middle daughter hisses in pain. Daniela stomps her foot and crosses her arms. "Erika is Bela's. If you wish for her help, among other things . . . seek your sister's permission first."

The relief is enough to make me sink to the floor, but I hold myself up at Bela's triumphant smile. She doesn't look in my direction, and I don't move to her side, not yet.

"Are we clear?" Lady Dimitrescu asks to the two daughters.

"Yes Mother," they say in unison.

She releases Cassandra and sighs. "Then I believe we're done here." She looks to me and I straighten. "Given the early hour, Erika, do you think you could gather something for dinner tonight?"

Yes, I nearly squeal. To be outside these suffocating walls, to have the sun on my face, and fresh air in my lungs –

"If I may suggest, My Lady," all heads snap to Helga as she comes up to my side. "Erika has some, significant gaps in her skills of being a Lady's Maid. I would like to take the time to teach her the proper ways and tasks and preparation; and perhaps show her to some new accommodations, if Miss Bela will allow it."

The eldest daughter shrugs her shoulders. "It would be a waste if she turns out to be some kind of lout."

A passable lie, I suppose. I thought my balance and dexterity had been proven during the meals I served them, but then again most of the notable movements were in the kitchen as I dodged other women carrying trays of food and bowls of ingredients.

But I have a sneaking suspicion that I'd have to screw up pretty bad for Bela to send me down to the dungeons. Only because she fought tooth and nail for me.

Lady Dimitrescu sighs. "Very well. Take the rest of the afternoon to get acquainted and trained, and if there seems to be enough time, see what you can fetch for dinner, Erika."

I bow my head. "Yes, My Lady. Is there any preference, tonight?"

"I could chomp a horse's head." Cassandra sneers as she glares lightning towards Bela.

The eldest daughter only flutters her eyes with a coy smile. "That twitch becomes you, Cassandra, is it new?"

"Do you promise to take care of your new toy, Bela?" Lady Dimitrescu coos.

"Don't worry, I'll give her a nice little view of the water."

Daniela pouts. "How convenient should she want to drown herself."

"Watch your tongue girls, lest you find it on the floor." The Lady warns, and her promising smile sends a shiver down a spine.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Helga motioning the other servants out of the room. Most seem more than eager to go, though I catch Nadine lingering in the doorway for a few seconds. I look over and meet her gaze.

For a heartbeat, she doesn't move. Doesn't gesture. Doesn't say anything.

Just stares.

I offer a polite smile and wave while Lady Dimitrescu straightens her daughters. Nadine then blinks furiously, as if snapping from a trance, and leaves without further hesitation.

"Very well, My Lady." Helga chimes, snapping my attention back to the family. "I shall have her trained by the end of today."

"Is that durable, Erika?" The Mistress asks me.

I nod. "Yes, that is perfect."

"Then begone, both of you. I need to talk to me daughters, alone."

A quick glance at Bela has me catching her rolling her eyes, meaning she might not be receiving the brunt of this lecture. Her eyes flick to me and give a flirtatious wink.

Without further word, Helga guides me out of the ballroom, but not before I remove the empty quiver and lean the bow against the threshold. I follow Helga out and down the halls to what I assume might be my old room to collect my things.

I can't believe this is happening: my own room, a fresh new position, and a chance to venture into the outside and do what I do best – and get paid even more than I would in the village.

If I keep this up, I might just be able to secure Lacy's future. The thought makes me smile, and I find myself humming as I follow Helga down through the halls and corridors.