Madelina stood beside the closet, shuffling through the contents within. As soon as she found what she had been searching for, her stern gaze turned to Kyia. She approached the fawn with a sense of authority, holding out a neatly folded uniform in her hands.
"Here," Madelina said as she handed the servant garments to Kyia. "Put this on. You're expected to start your duties immediately."
Kyia accepted the uniform with a nod, but that wasn't to say that the expression in her green eyes spoke of an immense hesitation to do so. As she unfolded the clothing, her mind raced with a thousand questions. She knew that servitude was the punishment that she had been sentenced to at the hands of that Mother Miranda woman. But with everything happening so quickly, the brunette sought any additional information that could be obtained.
If she was going to navigate this dreadful place unscathed, she needed to know what she was up against.
"What are my duties exactly?" Kyia inquired, acting as the innocent, somewhat naïve woman that she was certain Madelina perceived her as. Knowledge was often power in situations like these, and if her past had anything to teach her, knowledge was often passed down easily when the bearer did not see the recipient as a threat.
"You will serve the Dimitrescu family," Madelina replied instantaneously. It sounded like she had grown used to this verbiage, likely having said it to other new servants many times. "Your tasks will include cleaning, preparations, and attending to the needs of the Dimitrescu family."
Kyia's eyes pinched slightly as she listened, narrowing on the white gown and brown apron that had been handed to her. These were menial tasks, an insult to someone as powerful as she was, but she knew better than to openly defy her new role. She did not trust any of the staff here, nor did she even entertain the idea that the Dimitrescu family would be her allies.
And how could they? Bela was one of the three daughters. That unbearable wretch of a woman. Kyia's heart still churned with the regret of not having ended her life back in Serpenmoor. Even though this appeared to be a new timeline that she had found herself in, just imagining that there were two of them out there drove her nerves to their bitter ends.
The memories that she had of her only made this situation more troubling. Bela was the one in control here, not her. Had fate truly intervened and reset the stance of power? It seemed like it had been so, but Kyia would not resign herself to a lifetime of belittling servitude. She had gone through so much to survive up to this point, and she swore to herself that she would not die here.
For now, she would bide her time, waiting for the opportunity to take control.
Just like Serpenmoor, she may be the captive, but the second her abusers slipped up and offered her the chance to strike, she would do so without hesitation.
"And what about Lord Dimitrescu?" Kyia pressed further. "What are her expectations?"
"Lord Dimitrescu expects obedience and efficiency," she replied. "You will do well to remember that." Her eyes remained on Kyia's figure, noting her elegant appearance. Someone like that wouldn't likely be found within the confines of this valley, or any surrounding region, for that matter.
Madelina lowered her guard just a little bit. Even though she held the role of the Grand Chambermaid, there was still a human soul buried somewhere deep inside. "So, you're an outsider, correct?"
Kyia didn't want to admit the truth, but they already had her dead to rights. Pretending to be someone from this forsaken village would have been asking for complications. She knew nothing about their way of life and would have been called out on her falsehoods immediately. "Correct."
"Where are you from?" Madelina wished to know more, but that was a question that Kyia certainly would not answer. Informing the Grand Chambermaid that her newest co-worker was a woman from a distant realm would have come off as insane.
And if Serpenmoor was anything to learn from, which it was, then telling the truth opened the door for hysteria. None of the citizens of that detestable city reacted well to her answers. All it resulted in was imprisonment and torture.
The last thing she wanted was for the inhabitants of this castle to take a keen interest in her origins. Or worse, for that matter, Mother Miranda herself. If she could just blend in with the population, then she could limit her risks.
"To be honest," Kyia answered slowly, "I am not quite sure. I really don't remember much about where I came from. It's all just a blur to me, and that is what worries me the most."
"Oh," Madelina said as she nodded. "I see. Never mind, then."
"Sorry."
Madelina watched Kyia carefully, trying to draw whatever conclusions she could from this strange, slender woman. "Very well," she conceded, rationing that, in the end, neither of her questions mattered. "But remember this: whatever knowledge you possess of the outside world, leave it at the door. It won't serve you well here."
Kyia's jaw tensed slightly at the implication of a veiled threat, but she maintained her composure regardless. "And what if I were to make a mistake?" she strategically asked, imagining that Madelina would eventually end up becoming nothing more than an obstacle in her path. "Is it you who enforces the rules?"
But despite Kyia's expectations, Madelina's face softened, showcasing a bit of unexpected sympathy. "If I must," she admitted with regret. "I must ensure that the rest of the staff stay in line, but I take no pleasure in seeing others suffer for their transgressions. If it is not me, then it is the Dimitrescu family."
Kyia's eyes studied Madelina, searching for any answer that would paint a picture of what was at stake for her. She made it sound like the implications of one's failure to uphold their duties were severe, and that worried her to no end. "Then why do you serve as the Grand Chambermaid?"
Madelina's expression cast a grim outlook. "Because I am the most senior," she replied with hollowness in her voice. "I have seen too many good people fade away here."
Kyia's brow furrowed in confusion. "How long have you been in this position?" she asked, the flames of her curiosity stoked by the response that she had been given.
Madelina's gaze turned somber as she met Kyia's eyes. "Three years."
Kyia's eyes, in turn, widened in surprise. "Three years?" she repeated in disbelief. "That is not long at all."
Madelina's face withered to that of a depressed soul. She only gave Kyia a firm glare, hoping that the way her eyes sat like stones would convey the message well. "It isn't."
Kyia could already tell that something sinister was taking place in this lavish palace. Alcina and her daughters were as foreboding as they came. The tall lord reminded her of some of the horrors that populated the streets of Serpenmoor, but this woman possessed a clear consciousness, devoid of the animalistic mindset that Vikcia's creations carried.
That only served to make her more dangerous, and Bela and the other two young women were not too far off. She had witnessed Bela's atrocities the moment she regained her powers and touched her hand. The slaughter of so many helpless girls. Rooms filled with blood and body parts. This was the place where it all went down.
The fawn shuddered as she drew in her next breath, now realizing that she was on the chopping block. "What kind of consequences follow if one breaks the rules?" she asked, testing the waters. "Forgive me. I just want to know."
Madelina did not answer, and her eyes drifted down to Kyia's white blouse, noticing the streaks of dried blood that had been splattered along its tucked-in bottom. "Are you injured?"
Kyia glanced down at the stains, her expression unreadable as she tried to decide which approach to take. Madelina would likely not adhere well to the story of how the brunette had butchered an infected child so that she could rescue Bela during a violent chase through a jailhouse.
"No," she replied without a hint of emotion, sealing away every memory that she had of that shadowy nightmare for the time being.
But to Kyia, the answer still wasn't good enough. She had to do her best to quell any suspicion that might be raised toward her. The leaders of this village already appeared concerned about how two women with no connection to each other suddenly stumbled upon this isolated settlement. Anyone with a functioning brain would have wanted to investigate that matter.
Narratha had already done a bang-up job at stoking the flames of suspicion with her wild antics, and Kyia did not want to be roped into any further persecution. She did not know a single thing about that freckled redhead, but she could not trust that the woman would keep her mouth shut for long.
Her mind raced, searching for a plausible explanation that would satisfy this conversation, and leave it at that. But because she was unable to formulate a convincing lie, she settled for the most reliable response that there was. "I don't know where the blood came from," she added. "Like I said, I'm not entirely sure what happened before the Lords captured me. Nothing hurts, so I don't think I am injured."
Madelina's lips pressed into a thin line as she averted her eyes, allowing a sigh to escape from her mouth as soon as her muscles loosened. She then gestured toward the nearby wall, where the Dimitrescu family was likely on the opposite side, going about their daily affairs. She leaned in closer to Kyia, whispering the most useful piece of advice that she could offer. "Try to avoid getting hurt," she cautioned. "Especially if it means drawing blood."
Kyia raised her brow in confusion. "Why?"
Madelina's sharp gaze did not waiver. "They do bite."
It all made sense. She had seen Bela drink so much blood throughout those flashes of her past. She only wished that she had seen more so that she could grasp a better understanding of how she and her sisters worked. Back in Serpenmoor, the Bela that Kyia had met was one without her abilities, which had been seemingly stripped from her during her placement in that new realm.
The blonde was never too forthcoming about what kind of powers she held, which granted Kyia a great deal of uncertainty as to what she would be up against. The brunette had witnessed a large collection of insects in several of the visions, but there was no explanation for their presence. It was an unnerving sight nonetheless.
What only made it worse was that it wasn't just one nightmarish young woman that she was in the presence of, but three.
Cannibalism was the name of the game in this castle, it seemed. Even the smallest handful of information that she had been given had told her enough. Kyia took Madelina's advice at face value. The last thing she wanted to do was be butchered in this slaughterhouse. The brunette nodded, acknowledging what had just been told to her.
The conversation ended there, and Madelina began to walk away, heading toward the door. But before the woman left, she stopped and pointed to the garments in Kyia's hands. "Put those on and meet me outside. I will show you around the castle."
"Very well." Kyia tried to retain a passive expression, even though she wanted to scream.
"And please," Madelina remarked, "do pay attention as we go. You don't want to get lost here, I promise."
"Thank you, Madelina," Kyia replied. In keeping with her new position as a servant to this castle, she was then quickly reminded about the rank structure that she had to adhere to.
"Grand Chambermaid is what you will call me," Madelina corrected her. "Do not let Lord Dimitrescu hear anything else."
The corner of Kyia's mouth twitched. She hated the idea of subjugation. Her rationality was high, but also low. Part of her just wanted to incinerate this woman with a burst of flame for even mirroring a fraction of what the Peak Bishops in Serpenmoor had been like. But with no spark to light her way, the fawn settled on the present.
"Thank you, Grand Chambermaid."
With that, Madelina vacated the room, allowing Kyia the privacy to undress and adopt the uniform that had been provided to her. The brunette took a moment to soak in the silence of the room, gazing at the dark brown walls that surrounded her, illuminated by the candle sticks mounted above. The creaks of the castle's infrastructure chimed in her ears as she slowly inhaled a lonely breath.
How, she asked herself? How could it have ended up like this? Why was every world that she found herself in a torturous pit of persecution and enslavement? Locwitary was a once-beautiful place, until the war between poils and fawns ravaged it of all the happiness that it had to offer. Serpenmoor was a terrible reprieve, as the radical religion of the civilization had convinced its inhabitants that she was the enemy, one deserving of violence.
Her destruction of that world was supposed to be the closing chapter of everything that had gone wrong in her life. She wanted to start over, but it seemed that this place was also another failure. She couldn't tell for sure, but if the rest of this planet was just like this desolate valley, then what was there to enjoy?
Kyia could only think of Ethan at that moment and the wonderful stories that he had told her. He talked about a gorgeous place where technology ruled but whose people abided by a sense of individualism, rather than a religious hierarchy. Wars were a thing, but they were not geared toward women like her, who naturally possessed enhanced qualities and gifts, but rather a strife between good and evil.
She hung her head as she recalled her final exchange with that man and how she willfully ended his life. In a moment fueled by intense jealousy and passion, she lost all control when he fired his gun at her. While she had felt betrayed by his choice of Bela over her, the fawn couldn't ignore what she thought he may have felt in his final moments.
Betrayal cuts both ways. After all she had given him, that wasn't the Kyia that he deserved to witness.
If Bela was still alive back in that clock tower, she could think whatever she wanted, Kyia thought. The indifference that the fawn had displayed to the blonde mattered nothing at that point. Everything that was worth fighting for in that world died once that man's heart stopped beating. The cruelty that followed was just her adjusting to the unfairness that life had established.
Either way, it was best not to think about it.
What was done was done, and she would have to live with the guilt. Part of her was still angry at Ethan, but another part of her still loved him. Why couldn't he have just accepted her offer? She clenched her bony fists as she held onto the maiden garments that she had been issued, wishing that she could settle these emotions right here and now, but Madelina was waiting for her outside, and Kyia did not want to screw this up.
…
The Grand Chambermaid turned around once she heard the door handle behind her rotating. As soon as Kyia stepped past the threshold, Madelina's brown eyes were already set on her. The brunette looked the part, wearing the uniform quite well. Her thin physique caused the apron to fold around her body, which begged the consideration of a smaller one.
But all would be well for now, she figured. "Follow me," Madelina instructed, which Kyia reluctantly followed. As they proceeded down the narrow hallway, she did not look over her shoulder. If she had, she may have caught a fleeting glimpse of the intense scowl that the castle's newest addition wore on her face.
…
Daniela's footsteps could be heard across the halls as her heels tapped against the ground. Her mind was rattled with a collection of shifting thoughts that bounded between the past and the present. As she walked along the corridors, the redhead kept thinking about both Cassandra and Delia and how it was she who was at fault for everything regarding them.
While she believed that she rightfully held no concern for the wellbeing of the servant girl, there existed a small part of her that tried to differentiate right from wrong. It was a strange part of her, indeed. It wasn't always there, nor did it make its presence known in full when it did show up. The reoccurring sense of morality acted like a mild headache.
It was just there enough to let her know, but it never caused a disruption to her day.
Until now, if only for a minute. This 'headache' had grown worse.
Argh! Why did I do that? I don't give a damn what Delia thinks, but... I don't know. She had done a good job of dusting the library, now that I think about it. Should I have been fair? Is fair the right word? I don't know. This just doesn't feel good. I just think that if Cassandra hadn't made me feel so angry, then perhaps it is possible that I wouldn't have punished Delia.
Daniela huffed a sharp breath as she went about her path, her legs locked on autopilot. She didn't even know where she was going anymore. The woman only wanted to stay in motion, as it would feel like the entire world was pressing down against her if she sat still.
It didn't matter if she looked forward to one day consuming Delia's flesh just as much as she looked forward to talking to her. The maid went out of her way to ensure that the noblewoman had what she asked for. The others displayed fear as they obeyed, and it wasn't the same kind of fear that Delia had.
The other maid's fear was a righteous one. They knew what would happen to them. But Delia's fear was more centered around how much she truly did not want to upset Daniela. The youngest daughter could not rid her biases of the feeling that this lady cared more about her master than she did herself.
And that said something about her. She was someone worth keeping around.
Maybe that's why the guilt was there. Delia did not fail at all, but she had been treated like she did.
As she walked, Daniela thought of her sisters and how many wonderful memories they had shared throughout the years together. Sadly, the number of good times had begun to dwindle over the last few years. That truth soured her heart, as she wished for nothing more than to have those former days back. Something wasn't right with their sisterhood. Like a glacier, they were slowly drifting apart, and she felt like there was nothing that she could do about it.
And then there was the hunger, an eternal emptiness that rotted her from within. Daniela could feel it clawing at her insides, demanding to be satiated. She knew that she could always track down Bela and ask for permission to have some meat from the kitchen (something that Cassandra constantly neglected to do), but it soon became apparent that her perceived hunger was merely a thirst for blood.
A wine bottle could easily remedy her desires, and a trip to their collection would be quick. However, once she began thinking of the blood, her mind returned to the image of Delia's crimson-soaked mouth. It had been a while since the redhead last dined on some fresh blood, and she was beginning to think that a bottle of wine would not be the same.
She wanted to barge into that library and tear her favorite servant apart. Just the thought of chasing her around until her victim collapsed brought a sense of excitement to her soul. It would get the blood in that woman's veins pumping, enriching it with so much oxygen. The feast would be grand, she thought.
Daniela rotated her shoulders, ready to turn back and head to the library, but she stopped herself when she remembered that this was Delia she was talking about. If her mother's strict orders to not kill a single servant without her permission didn't hammer reality back into her, the slight bond that she shared with this girl was enough to make her think twice.
She froze in place, desperately trying to push the rest of the negative impulses out of her head.
As Daniela stood there, battling her own will, her ears picked up on the faint sound of whispering coming from nearby. At first, she paid it little mind, dismissing it as nothing more than a misconception found in the residue of her cascading internal monologues. But as the whispers grew louder, the redhead soon found her conflicting thoughts coming to an abrupt halt. Every fiber of her attention had now been pulled away to concentrate on the noise.
What is that?
Searching for the source of the sounds, Daniela's eyes followed her ears, and she caught sight of shapes moving past the edges of the walls. They appeared like dim shadows, transparent in nature, but at the same time, as solid and recognizable as human bodies. It was hard to tell just how many of them there were. They moved so quickly and from so many different directions. The woman barely had enough time to make out what she was even looking at.
A foot passing by, its heel turning past the dresser.
A stray hand gripping the edge of the wallpaper, fingers withdrawing into the unknown just on the other side.
A dark mass that blended in so perfectly with the fuzziness imparted by the sun's rays through the window, only to show its presence when it peeked over at her. Was it a humanoid shape? Maybe. It was gone the second she saw it.
Even though it appeared that she was being surrounded by these elusive beings, Daniela wasn't alarmed in the slightest. Intruders into the castle were the direst threat, but while the rest of her siblings would have jumped into action, the youngest of the batch chose to remain where she was, watching the apparitions as if they were butterflies.
Instead of concern, there was curiosity.
Are these… friends?
For a moment, she considered following them, believing wholeheartedly that if she managed to catch up, these people would somehow fulfill her deepest desires. But the moment passed, as when her amber eyes went to pick one out, they were suddenly all gone.
The hallway was completely empty, devoid of all signs of life besides her. The only thing left in her ears now were the common creaks of the castle against the wind. She searched deeply for even the shortest whisper, but there was nothing.
Where did everyone go?
After coming to terms with the fact that she was now by herself, Daniela abandoned her pursuit of the people around her and decided to casually resume her walk. The redhead's mind had been flicked like a light switch, turned off to the past matter, and now focused on the next thing.
She navigated the rest of the halls just like it was any other day, moving slowly past the narrow walls as she headed toward the entrance lobby. It was only when her eyes were drawn to the large portrait of her and her siblings that she stopped in her tracks once again.
She had gazed at this painting numerous times before. It was nothing new. Everyone who stepped into the castle was greeted by the image of Lord Dimitrescu's three beloved daughters.
But something was different about it this time. At first, Daniela scanned the image to see if she could find what was off, but she got nowhere. Everything was the same, but she asked herself why it felt different, regardless.
Cassandra sometimes stops and looks at this painting. I've seen her do it before. She seems to get so annoyed when she does. Could it be that she sees something, too?
Daniela stared at the portrait of the trio longer, scrutinizing every miniscule detail that her eyes could pick up on. There had to be something there, but what?
I know that I'm missing something. Ugh, it's like my mind just doesn't want to see it.
She leaned closer.
This looks just like me. The artist captured my features so well! Even Bela and Cassandra look so well painted. I love the way he recreated Bela's blonde hair.
Daniela blinked. She realized that Bela's hair in the painting wasn't blonde at all. In fact, her older sister's face appeared to look nothing like that. She turned to inspect the image of Cassandra, but the woman was unrecognizable. She then glanced at herself, seeing a complete stranger in her place as well. How? Why would this painting look like three totally different women instead of Alcina's treasured kin?
She blinked again and saw a flash of blood pouring down the left temple of all three ladies in the painting.
What?
A third blink, and everything was back to normal.
Oh, silly me! That looks just like us! Bela really wore her hair so differently back then! She should try styling it one of these days.
Despite her return to the correct mindset, her gaze still lingered on the hair painted atop her head. Without thinking, Daniela's hand reached up to her hood, her fingers brushing against the fabric as she sought to feel her left temple.
Under her touch, she could feel the rough texture of her shaven hair and the disorganized patterns standing out against her soft locks. Her fingertips traced the outline of the scar that lined her skin, one that she had naturally never thought about. It was just there, and that was it.
A disgusting blemish on an otherwise beautiful head. Mother was right to have it covered up, she thought.
Before she could delve any deeper into her thoughts, a voice broke through the silence, causing Daniela to startle. She quickly withdrew her hand from her hood, her attention snapping to the doorway where Alcina had emerged. The woman's imposing figure crouched through the threshold that she was too tall to simply walk through.
A common sight over the last few decades.
"Daniela," Alcina greeted her with a motherly smile. "What are you up to?"
Daniela was still caught off guard. She glanced around the room, as if she had just been discovered in the middle of doing something wrong. She could never lie to her mother, even if she wanted to. Her tongue would not form the words to do so.
"I was just looking at this painting of us, Mother."
Alcina's gaze moved to join her daughter's as they both stared at the prominent painting before them. Her eyelids narrowed as she brushed her forefinger against her chin, moving it to adjust her hat seconds later. "It is to be admired," she remarked. "I am quite proud of the way it turned out."
"Mother." Daniela smiled back at her. "Do you agree that Bela should style her hair like she used to?"
I know she's going to agree with me! And when she does, Bela is going to hear it, and she'll have to change her hair!
But against Daniela's expectations, the only thing Alcina did was withdraw her stare and redirect it toward her instead. "I think you mustn't worry about that, my child."
"But… " Daniela was about to argue the matter, but then her mind locked. She accepted the outcome as it was, and there would be no disagreement. "Yes, Mother. It is not a big deal."
"Well, come along then," Alcina said, gesturing for Daniela to follow her. "Lunch is almost ready. I am glad that I found you."
With a nod, Daniela followed her mother as the tall lady turned and bent down to make it back through the doorway. Their walk to the dining room would take no time at all, and the closer she got to it, the more the feeling of hunger returned. Hopefully, Daniela figured, a nice meal would do wonders to clear her mind.
She wanted to glance at the portrait one more time over her shoulder as they walked away, but she found her focus directed ahead. Her mother had just given her a command, and she would obey it without question.
Such was the role of a beloved daughter of House Dimitrescu.
…
Seated at the table next to her sisters, Daniela picked at her food, her eyes alternating between her sisters and their mother. The scent of roasted deer filled the air, mixed with the sound of utensils clinking against plates as they ate. The gathering was relatively quiet today, which was far different from the way things were years ago.
The redhead recalled many evenings where there would be jovial conversation and laughter. Bela would be so engaged in what her siblings had to say, going out of her way to relate to them however she could. Cassandra, the cold-hearted daughter, used to be filled with as much warmth as the summer sun. Her laughter at Daniela's jokes would carry across the vast halls of their home.
But those days were long gone, for whatever reason. Now, Bela was nothing more than an isolated puppy, doing her best to score points with Alcina rather than engage with the other two. Cassandra would still laugh, but her giggles were born from a cruelty cast at the expense of her sisters and not her enjoyment of their presence. Whatever the cause was, she appeared to loathe her family at times.
Another quiet meal. One more distant encounter in the books, it seemed.
And on cue, Bela, ever eager for her mother's approval, raised her shoulders and flashed a smile at Alcina. "Mother, how do you find the meal?" she asked, hoping for the pat on the head that she had worked so hard for. It was so routine that Cassandra and Daniela expected it at this point. They held no doubt that their mother did, as well.
Alcina glanced up from her plate, her eyes bouncing up and down between the food on her plate and the blonde across from her. "It is enjoyable," she replied simply, causing Bela's smile to falter slightly. Another forkful of deer meat was pushed into her mouth right after, as if to blockade any further response.
But undeterred by the consumption, Bela pressed the matter further, broadening her smile so that she could accentuate her enthusiasm for Alcina's opinion. "And how does it compare to last week's lunch? I worked extra hard to ensure the meat was prepared just right."
It was the same question as before, albeit with a few extra pieces added.
Once again, Alcina's response was short. "It is equally satisfying," she said nonchalantly, only ending the conversation with an additional sentence. "I am most pleased, my daughter."
Bela leaned back in her chair, appearing satisfied with the review. But Cassandra, however, couldn't resist a snicker. "Food is not art, Bela," she stated in a mocking tone.
Bela's eyes pinched as she turned to glare at her sister. It didn't take much to stir the blonde's nerves, and that was what Cassandra fed on more than the deer on her plate. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded to know.
Cassandra shrugged casually, as if it were nothing big but something big. The brunette reached for her wine glass, taking a sip, and leaving her older sister in suspense before she finally set the chalice down and answered her question. "You always sit there, waiting for someone to clap their hands at it," she replied with a grin.
Bela's annoyance flared, just as Cassandra intended, and she shot back, "Maybe if you learned to wipe your mouth while you eat, you'd understand the value of presentation."
Cassandra hummed, unfazed by her sister's retort. Bela's insults were never her best hits. She was a smart woman, yes, but if a textbook on comebacks was a thing, she would greatly benefit from studying it. "You must really hate messes," she remarked with a sinister curl under her eyelids, picking up the narrow body of her wine glass and teetering it around, as if she were about to allow a drop or two to spill.
Bela's teeth began to flash, her eyes sharpening at the surface of the wine that flirted with the rim of the glass. "Quit your games."
Before the tension could escalate further, Daniela interjected. "Please, let's not argue," she implored. "I just want us to get along."
Inclined to rationality, Bela sighed, relenting as she sought to be the mature one in this petty squabble. She reached for a cloth to offer Cassandra so that the messy daughter could clean the stains off her cheeks. But to her frustration, the brunette refused to accept it, waving her hand away as if her sibling was being an inconvenience. It stirred up a whirlwind of emotions inside her, but Daniela was right—now was not the time to fight. Setting the cloth aside, she focused on her meal, determined to keep her composure.
Hoping to change the atmosphere of the room, Bela turned her attention to Daniela. "How was your day?" As soon as she asked that, the redhead launched into a discussion about the princess story she had been reading, explaining the plot and characters in great detail. She spoke so fast that it would be hard for anyone to follow along, her words propelled by such child-like excitement.
But before Daniela could finish, Cassandra groaned audibly. "Again with this story?" she interjected, her annoyance evident as she leaned her head back against her chair. It was at that comment that Daniela's enthusiasm grinded to a halt, her expression falling as she glanced between her sisters, unsure how to respond.
She rolled her lips, visibly upset by Cassandra's interruption, but her eyes remained averted from the one who had criticized her. Instead, she looked to Bela for support, hoping her older sister would come to her defense and tell Cassandra to let her finish.
But Bela simply shook her head and sighed. "Maybe you should talk about something else besides your favorite story, Daniela."
But…
Daniela's brows furrowed in confusion. She had not foreseen such a response. "Why?" she asked, the sting of the complaint still radiating throughout her soul.
You asked me how my day was. My story was my day, so why can't I talk about it?
Before Daniela could receive an answer, Cassandra chimed in again. Just like before, she sounded so condescending in the way she spoke, adding a dash of venom to every syllable. "Because you talk about it every day. Do I have to keep saying this? How many times have you read it?"
"I... I haven't finished it yet," Daniela admitted, her voice trailing off as she began to wonder if there was something that she was missing. The woman had been so confident in her approach, only to be blindsided by the comments that were tossed her way. Even trying to explain herself made her feel like a fool. It was as if she was wrong from the very start, but she still couldn't figure out why.
Cassandra shook her head in disapproval, hammering in that feeling to Daniela that she indeed was a fool. "You keep forgetting that you've finished it," she lauded. "How is that possible?"
Daniela's eyes widened in disbelief. There was no way that could have been the truth, but the way Cassandra addressed her made it look like this was far from a lie. "I... I don't remember finishing it," she protested weakly, clinging to what she thought to be true.
I would have known if I had finished the story before. I would have remembered it! It is such a good story! She must be thinking about a different story that I've read! Argh, that has to be it! Cassandra doesn't care about me whenever I talk about what I'm reading. She never pays attention at all, so why should I care? But Bela agrees? Why? She must be mistaken, too.
Alcina's low voice put an end to the conversation. "Cassandra, cease this act," she commanded.
"Yes, Mother." Cassandra immediately fell silent, acknowledging her mother's orders with a nod. Daniela glanced at Bela, still hoping for some form of support to be offered, but her sister's expression remained neutral. It appeared that she did not wish to entertain this discussion any more, either.
Daniela's mood sank even lower, and she decided to have a drink to quell her despair. The wine would numb the hurt just a bit, but another helping of it would add an additional layer of protection. As soon as her glass became empty, the redhead gestured for Delia to pour her a second helping.
Delia approached the table just as ordered, but as she reached Daniela's side, the redhead's demeanor changed. She glanced up at her with concern as she held her glass out.
"Am I right, Delia?"
Delia froze, caught between the two opposing sides of the argument. As a servant, there was no positive outcome if she were to choose one over the other. Her composure fell for a second. The young lady swallowed a quick gulp, and her hands tensed around the wine bottle a bit. "I... I like hearing about the story, Miss Daniela," she replied carefully, choosing the most neutral words that she could conjure up. But to avoid disrespecting the other members of the Dimitrescu family, she needed to back out of the question tactfully. "But my opinion doesn't matter. I know my place."
Useless!
Daniela snapped at that very second, backhanding the wine bottle out of Delia's hand before the maid could even react. It flew across the air and shattered against the wall, causing heaps of the red liquid to spill everywhere. The tasty scent of fermented grapes and blood filled the room, but there was no delight to be found.
The noblewoman rose from her seat, angrily pointing at the mess she had just created. "Clean that up, now! I don't want to hear another word from you!" Her voice was as sharp as any knife, making the whole room go quiet with a single slash.
Despite her initial shock from the reaction, Delia obeyed without a second thought, running to grab a cloth and do as she was told. As this went on, Cassandra merely sat in her chair, chuckling audibly. In her ever-growing world of boredom, chaos like this was always a great source of entertainment.
Alcina softly groaned as soon as she saw the act unfold, but already exhausted, she made no move to yell. Daniela had fired her shot, and the gun that was her rage was out of ammunition. She sat back down in her seat, as silent as could be.
Why didn't she defend me? Does she not care? I should just kill her! But I don't want to.
Delia returned to the table swiftly, not saying a thing; her focus solely on the task at hand. Once she was on her knees, the maid began to gather the broken shards of glass into the tin bucket and used a hand towel to soak up the streaks of wine that had been splashed against the wall and floor.
However, just as the servant began to get to work, Cassandra suddenly rose from her chair. "Go away!" she shouted at Delia, whose widened eyes rose to meet hers. Gathering her supplies, she got up from the ground, but Cassandra's next order was firm. "Leave that stuff there!"
Cassandra then pointed towards Kyia, who stood nervously amongst the group of servants nearby.
Kyia's breathing paused when she saw Cassandra's finger aimed in her direction. She wasn't sure what was about to come next and could only wonder how she had done something wrong while trying to blend in with all the others.
"I want the new maid to clean it up," Cassandra stated, curling her finger for Kyia to rush over.
Kyia knew better than to defy Cassandra's orders, lest she be attacked in her current defenseless state. With a bitter heart, she ran over to the mess and assumed the work that Delia had just been engaged in, picking up the assorted fragments of glass with her thin, bare fingers.
As she went along, Cassandra's foot lashed out and kicked the bucket over, unleashing the collected pieces across the floor around them. The woman's sadistic laughter followed, and it tore into the depths of Kyia's ears.
Bela's groan of exasperation was the next thing that was heard, but it was only caused by one small factor. "You're just making a bigger mess, Cassandra."
"She needs to learn," her sister replied with an unbridled sense of apathy in her words. She then bent down and pointed her finger again at the glass that needed to be collected. "What are you waiting for, idiot? Keep cleaning!"
"Yes, Miss Cassandra!" Kyia's hands trembled as she went about her duties, but her compliant exterior was only a cover. Deep inside the brunette, a raging fire began to swell, fueled by the gross injustice at the hands of these disgusting women. This was even worse than what she had gone through back in Serpenmoor.
She hated the feeling of being so degraded, reduced to the idea of nothing. Neither of these spoiled souls knew what she was back in her realm. They could never grasp the power that she wielded.
As the fawn tended to the mess, she glanced at Bela momentarily, noting that her attention was elsewhere, before her thoughts returned to Cassandra. In that moment, Kyia made a silent vow to herself.
No matter what it took, once she got her powers back, she would take great joy in making these feral women suffer as they watched each other die. That was her promise to this castle, and she would see it done.
NOTES:
Looks like Kyia's first day on the job isn't going too well. While some will say that this is deserved retribution, she isn't the main antagonist of this story for no reason. I think a lot of people remember how weak she came off as in Fears, but after seeing what she is capable of, situations like these not to be applauded. She's always searching for information that will benefit her, and when she learns something useful, it becomes a part of her plan.
Bela is no longer the only target in her path. We'll see more of Kyia's experiences in the castle as the next few chapters release. I'm certain that she will find herself in some interesting and unexpected places.
As for Daniela, I wanted to show some more of what is going on in her mind. There is not just one singular issue at hand. Her visual hallucinations are concerning, but the scene with Alcina by the painting hints at what has been established before – parts of her mind are also re-wired.
Fragmented Flies had Cassandra questioning why that painting didn't resemble her, but like her siblings, she never investigated it. There was just a feeling, but Cassandra was so isolated that it just molded to what she was already dealing with. Daniela, on the other hand, is too broken to stay in one spot for long. She's always drifting around, sort of like a pendulum, swinging one way, and then toward the other.
The plot is slowly advancing. I'm sure many of you are curious what is going on with Heisenberg and Narratha. Well, you'll find out in the next chapter! Compared to Kyia, her personality is quite out there. Maybe she'll get along with Karl. Or, maybe she won't. You'll just have to see…
I'll keep these notes brief, but this plot will be picking up soon in some ways. We're not going to be stuck in the castle this whole time. There is a village out there to see, people to meet, and lords to kill.
It's going to be one wild ride. See you all again on June 7th! Stay safe and have a wonderful weekend! 😊