I collapse onto my bed at around two o'clock in the evening. My hands and feet ache, I'm smeared with charcoal dust from the chimneys, and I'm certain I've forever hunched my back from sweeping the terrace and the gardens.

I wouldn't have been able to get the laundry and sewing done were it not for Bianca's help. The scullery maid had been dismissed from the kitchen to do . . . whatever else she does, and caught me in the hallway balancing one basket on my head while holding two more in each arm. I had only the faintest idea of how to sew and steam and iron, mostly because I hadn't really needed to unless Luiza needed help; and I haven't bothered to go back to the laundry room since the incident with the laundress. I try not to think about where she might be now – if she's still down in the dungeons or if she's been returned to her duties, but just not the same.

Bianca continued to be my savior when she offered to help me return Lady Dimitrescu's laundry to her chambers. The Mistress didn't seem too bothered to see me with her, though I decided against mentioning her help. Somehow, my mind think Alcina might use it as some reason to kill her. Perhaps I could tell it to Helga; maybe she can give Bianca a few extra lei.

I should bathe. Relax my muscles before I'm summoned to help Bela . . . but this mattress is just too nice.

"Someone looks worse for wear." A familiar voice croons from my living room.

I don't hide my groan as I roll over to face the room, and find Bela sitting before the fireplace, helping herself to some tea. She might've brought the single cup from the kitchen, because there's no other set up to indicate she's been here the whole time. "You know, you could be courteous and knock."

Bela gives a feline smile. "You could also remember this is my castle, legally at least. By inheritance."

"Can you at least allow me some time to freshen up. Wouldn't want to disrespect your reputation by looking like a mess."

Her smile doesn't fade. And I'd be lying if I said it wasn't pretty. Perhaps it's the genuine humor or misery she enjoys, but it almost makes her seem human. "I haven't even asked anything if you yet."

"But you will." I unceremoniously slide off the bed, letting my neck rest along the edge. My legs are stretched before me, my skirt gathered my thighs, but I don't really care.

"You're awfully amusing when exhausted." Bela says as she sets down her teacup. She stands from the couch and gives a little stretch. "Erika, are we . . . okay?"

I give her a confused expression, until I remember that I had coldly dismissed her from my rooms after everything that had transpired from the lycans, to Cassandra. I give her a half smile. "Yeah. We're okay."

I suppress my excitement to see her face light up ever so slightly. "So, I take it Mother's punishment was quite . . . demanding?"

"Better than what it could've been." I remind. I haul myself to my feet, groaning as I hear a few satisfying pops and cracks along my spine. "So, will you be needing anything?"

I stride towards the bathroom, taking my shoes and stockings off before tossing them aside. Bela follows with folded arms, kicking them against the wall. "Well, Mother is hosting a dinner with Mother Miranda tonight, so I'll probably need one of my dresses ironed."

My feet stop as if caught in tar. Bela nearly crashes into me as I whirl around to face her. "Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Mother Miranda is coming here?"

"Yeah."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah. I thought Mother would've mentioned that to you."

"She said she was hosting a dinner, she didn't say she was having Mother Miranda!"

Bela gives me a confused expression lightly laced with surprise. "What's the big deal? You're not going to see her."

"I – I'm not?"

"I mean, I'm not going to have you there. I don't know about Mother. But why are you so frazzled? I didn't think you'd really care."

"It's just . . . she's the head of the village." I lie. "I guess I'm just nervous to be in her presence. I've only ever seen her from afar, you know? She's practically royalty."

Bela rolls her eyes with a sigh of disgust. "She's a glorified priestess."

I blink. "I thought your mother would've taught you to be more respectful about her."

"Oh, she did. And when she's here, yes. But when she's gone, I can say whatever the fuck I want." Bela makes her way into the bathroom, arms still folded until she reaches the tub. She turns the knobs and begins lacing the water with a single, simple scent of roses. I timidly follow behind her, my body having suddenly grown cold. Bela looks back and me and her brows tent. "Erika, are you sure you're okay?"

There's no way I can tell her about my dream. Not that she'd laugh, but I don't need any confirmation about what it might mean. I wouldn't be surprised if Mother Miranda possess such an ability – to walk within dreams. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I'm just intimidated by her."

Bela's eyes narrow, unconvinced. "You work for a vampiric serial killer who stands at nine foot six."

"Yeah, but at least she's . . . predictable. I know nothing about Mother Miranda. No one does. She's an enigma." I approach the tub and begin unbuttoning my dress. "Also, I appreciate your honestly about your mother."

Bela shuts off the water. "We've said it like nine times before. I'm surprised it still shocks you."

"Even more disturbing is how comfortable I am with it. Wonder what that says about me." I open my dress and it just slips off my shoulders when I pause. I turn and look at Bela standing at the head of the tub, watching me while also watching the water level. "Um, do you mind?"

"Not at all," Bela chirps with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Bela –"

"I've already seen you naked once. What does it matter now?"

I hide my pout. Apparently it wasn't that impressive.

The dress has only slipped to my waist when there's a knock at my door. Pausing, Bela and I both look to one another, alarmed and confused. Bela steps out of the bathroom and I pull my dress up to cover my breasts.

I leave the bathroom door ajar as I listen to the clicking of Bela's heels approaching the door. I can hear her open it with a snarl, scaring the poor servant girl beyond. Their conversation is muffled, and I have to strain my ear within the space to try and listen.

At the sound of Bela slamming the door, I spook and take a couple steps back. Her footsteps approach the bathroom at a more casual, if not careful pace. I'm still clutching my robe when she steps inside, shutting the door behind her.

In her hand, she holds a bottle of oil, reading the front label as she takes a couple of steps towards me.

"What was that?" I ask.

She doesn't take her eyes off of the bottle. "I, don't know. Some servant just came and dropped this off for you. Apparently my mother request you use it before the diner tonight."

My heart sinks. "Does – Does that mean that I'm –"

Bela shakes her head. "I don't know. I'll have to have a talk with Mother. This is, admittedly strange."

"So don't use it." It's an answer more than a question.

"Oh hell no." Bela says with a sneer, slapping the bottle atop the vanity counter. "I don't trust it. get yourself cleaned up, then I can show you what dress I need done. But wait for me to stop by your room again. I don't want you wandering the halls alone right now."

I nod obediently. If Bela senses something is off in her own castle, who am I to question it. Bela leaves, shutting the bathroom door once more. I don't hesitate to lock it behind her.

I let my dress slip to the floor, stepping out of it and moving towards the tub.

But I pause before the vanity, staring at the bottle of oil. Curiosity has me approaching it as if it were a venomous snake. I do smile at my own reflection though – it's the most human I've looked in a couple of years. I've regained my figure thanks to my dedicated eating and exercise. Though there are still some knobs and hollows, it's the healthiest I've ever looked.

The triangular bottle is made of crystal – looking more like a decanter – giving a full, glittering view of the dark purple liquid inside. I bend over my knees to read the label that had Bela so concentrated: perfumed skin oil.

My cheeks immediately flush. I'd have to rub it into my skin.

Peering over at the door, expecting Bela to just barge in at my slightest curiosity, I wait a minute before uncorking the diamond-shaped stopper.

I take one sniff of the liquid, and nearly drop the stopper as I gag and gasp.

I scramble back from the bottle, the stopper clacking loudly into the sink.

My heartbeat is racing, my breath sawing in and out of me as I clutch me chest.

Lilac and baby's breath.

That smell . . .

That scent . . . It was hers – Mother Miranda's.

Naked, I tremble on my knees before the bottle as it sits there towering over me on the counter.

She had sent it to me, somehow. She knows who I am, where I am.

And that wasn't a dream that I'd had. Or, maybe it was, but now it's becoming a frightening reality.

It's how she'll find me. By marking me with her scent.

I will have my fun with you.

It seems like she didn't take into consideration the number of details that I could recall from a dream like that.

It's what she wants – for me to think of her as I rub the oil into every inch of my skin. For my breasts, my thighs, my neck to smell like her – lilacs and baby's breath, mingling with my fear.

I steel myself and burst forth for the oil. I fumble for the stopper and stick it back into the bottle. I push it as far as I can until it's pressed against the wall. A part of me wants to just dump it. But if Bela suspects something too, she'll need the evidence.

If there's anything to be done. Lady Dimitrescu answers to Mother Miranda. Her word is law. If she were to claim me right then and there at the dinner, would the Mistress even protest?

I'm still shaking as I grab some soap and viciously scrub my hands until they turn bright pink. I don't even want a drop of at shit in the tub with me.

I back away from it and enter the tub, turning my back towards it. I use a different soap as I scrub myself clean, but I cannot relax. Not with that bottle still posted on the counter. I can almost feel Mother Miranda's eyes upon my back – just like that raven I'd seen on the windowsill.

By the time I'm done, my skin is bright pink, and I'm aching even more than when I first entered the water. I towel off and wrap it tightly around myself before snatching up my dress and leaving the bathroom.

I shut the door behind me, and quickly pad over towards my wardrobe for another dress. I change as quickly and efficiently as I can, towel-drying my hair before braiding it down my back.

After straightening myself in the mirror, I throw more logs onto the fire and sit by, waiting for Bela's return.

She told me to wait for her, and so I do. But I can't stop looking over towards the bathing room.