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[Rough Draft] Chapter 67: A Slave to Fate
Hana paid careful attention to her appearance that morning. Her gown was a silver-blue, her hair pulled back in pearls and braids in the fashion of notable ladies of her station. She chose a blue hat with a silver veil and adorned herself with a jewelry set of sapphires embellished with silver in the shape of Bastiallano’s seal.
As a Viscountess, she had received a necklace of office on the day of her ennoblement. A simple chain and medallion, which she wore over the fur of seal blue cloak. The maids finished off the official look with a pair of gray gloves and a fan, then moved aside as Hana stepped forward to study her reflection in the mirror.
The woman in the mirror appeared composed and confident, none of which Hana felt. She pulled her veil and swept towards the bedroom door, moving swiftly down the hall to unlock and enter Kirsi’s bed chambers.
As before, the Duchess remained in her slumber. Hana shut the door and moved silently to sit on the bed beside her. As was her morning routine, she brushed through Kirsi’s ash-brown hair, a somewhat useless gesture given the Duchess did not move at all while she slept.
The strands of white hair upon the ice witch’s head had grown steadily in number and felt cold to the touch. Hana brushed and rearranged Kirsi’s hair to make them less noticeable, then set the brush aside to retrieve the small dagger on the bedside table.
“I need you to wake up, Kirsi,” Hana whispered as she pressed the tip of the sharp blade to her finger and then quickly pressed several drops of her blood free to fall between the sleeping witch’s parted lips. “I do not know what will happen when I face my brother today, but I am afraid for you.”
The Viscountess pressed her lips together as she watched Kirsi’s unmoving eyelids, then sighed as she brushed the blood from her already healed fingertip. “I’ll return as quickly as I can manage, but if Jericho stops me—” her fingers tightened against the silver-blue fabric of her dress, “—then you must come and find me.”
The morning light filtered through the window curtains. It sparkled against the Duchess’s hand, which did not stir. Hana smiled as she clasped the small hand and shivered at the chill which crept up her arm. “Please come back, Kirsi. I am waiting for you. I am always waiting for you.”
She kissed the cold lips of her savior, the friend she had betrayed and found again after two lifetimes. At some point, Hana had realized that Kirsi had changed. And then she realized the ice witch did not recognize her at all, and those moments offered both pain and relief.
‘If Kirsi doesn’t remember, then she won’t hate me.’
Perhaps Kirsi didn’t remember her specifically, but she had come looking for Hana all the same. How else could she explain Maura’s determination to enter the palace and then use all her cards to get both herself and Hana out?
“I promise it will be different this time. I won’t let Jericho confuse or guilt me into taking his side. So please—wake up.”
A patient knock at the door pulled Hana’s gaze away from the sleeping Duchess. She released Kirsi’s hand with reluctance, then left the bed and moved to the door, which she opened to find Lady Larissa waiting on the other side.
“Are you ready?” Larissa asked softly.
“I am,” Hana replied as she stepped into the hall then turned to lock the door. “Has Colonel Isaac returned?”
“Yes, late last night. I did not want to wake you. He is aware of our plan and has agreed to escort you this morning.”
Hana nodded and smiled ruefully at the key in her hand. ‘Who would have thought that one day I would entrust my safety to the man who betrayed my family.’
“How is Lady Kirsi?”
The Viscountess glanced up at the worried water witch and smiled as she held out the key. “I have given her enough substance to last a day or two at most.”
Larissa’s eyes narrowed as she took the key and wrapped it in her gloved fingers. “Prince Llyr says this sleep is a necessary part of her transformation, but—I’m worried.”
“Kirsi will wake when she is ready,” Hana replied calmly. “And she will be much stronger than she was before. We must be patient.”
The water witch sighed as she shoved the key into her trouser pocket and then crossed her arms. “I’m more worried about what Kirsi will do when she wakes up to find you gone.”
“Well, hopefully, I’ll return before then,” Hana returned with a faint smile before moving past the female knight to head towards the stairs.
***
Colonel Isaac was waiting for them on the floor below. His expression was withdrawn and cold until he turned to greet them. “Viscountess. Shall we depart?”
“Yes, if the carriage is ready,” Hana replied with a nod.
“Remember to remind the prince and that pompous Pope that if they do not return her before the day is over, Bastiallano will prepare to invade the Capital by dawn,” Larissa warned as she followed behind the Colonel and Viscountess.
“Would that be on your orders or the Duchess?” Isaac growled with a glance over his shoulder.
“If we don’t act, then the rumors that the Duchess is unwell again will be confirmed.”
“Let’s just focus on getting to the palace safely for now,” Hana interjected calmly. “Colonel—you better keep your helmet on.”
The half-witch turned his ice-blue eyes towards her with a twisted smile. “Lady Hana, I doubt a helmet will prevent the Witch Hunter’s from identifying me.”
“Then I hope for your sake that they do not wish to provoke Bastiallano outright.”
***
Sophya jolted awake to loud pounding against her bedroom door at Gilwren. She pressed a hand against the painful pounding inside her chest as she rose to her feet and smoothed out her dress before responding with a dry, “Yes?”
“You should prepare yourself for breakfast,” a male voice informed her coldly.
‘Breakfast?’ Sophya tightened her trembling hand into a fist as she turned to take in her pale, disheveled reflection in the mirror. ‘Does Master Gus really expect me to eat with them?’
“You have ten minutes!”
“W-wait! Can-can a maid come help me dress.”
The sharp, barking laugh on the other side of the door faded away as the Witch Hunter left.
Sophya clenched her jaw and moved quickly to the vanity desk to brush and smooth out her hair. ‘It’s not as if they got rid of all the servants. Master Gus is just doing this to embarrass me further.’
She frowned at her hand and the crooked smear of lipstick at the corner of her mouth. All day yesterday, they had ignored her, other than providing a tray of sliced bread, cheese, and grapes with a cup of water at lunch and dinner. Sophya had ignored lunch, half-convinced it would be poisoned or drugged, but by dinner, her hunger had driven her to at least eat the fruit and cheese.
“I hope it’s not more bread for breakfast.” She quickly cleaned her face and smoothed the wild waves of her vivacious red hair back into a simple braid which she tied off with a bow at the end. Satisfied that she was presentable, though the murderers downstairs hardly counted as company, she pulled on her shoes and waited in her chair for the door to open.
The dining room was a sight to behold when Sophya was led downstairs. It was as if every chair in the house had been squeezed in around the large banquet table. Witch Hunters, both men and women, crowded in around platters of food. The smell of bacon, eggs, potatoes, cheese, and other flavorful condiments filled the room of half-witches dressed in their scarlet red uniform.
“Sit there,” the witch hunter escorting her barked as he pointed to an empty seat at the corner of the table.
‘Was it really necessary to have me eat down here when there’s barely any room?’ Sophya approached the set carefully and ignored the curious eyes that followed her as she sat down. She flinched as the man to her right reached out to grab her hair and sniff it.
“Aye, definitely a noblewoman,” the witch hunter snorted before returning to his empty plate of syrup, pancakes, and eggs.
Sophya stiffened as she watched him dig in with only his fingers and gingerly reached up to confirm the lock of hair he had grabbed earlier was now covered in grease and syrup.
‘Uncultured barbarians.’
She clenched her jaw to hide her trembling lips and flinched as a thick slice of ham was tossed on the plate before her. To her left, the female witch hunter grinned and then added four pancakes and two fried eggs before ceremoniously drowning the plate in syrup. Sophya stared at the finished product, speechless.
“Here, eat up,” the female witch hunter grunted as she dropped a fork she had managed to snatch from one of her companions onto the napkin half-buried beneath the plate. “And do it quickly.”
Deciding that it would be best to stay quiet and go along with their demands, Sophya picked up the sticky fork and began cutting into her meal. She had only managed half a pancake, one of the fired eggs, and a bite of ham when the dining room doors burst open, and Terik appeared.
“Meals over. Get outside and saddled up,” the dark-haired, silver-eyed witch hunter barked with authority.
The room exploded in chaos as most of the witch hunters moved shoved their way towards the door eagerly. A few of the older hunters grabbed another fistful of food before filling in at the back of the line that made its way outside.
Sophya turned her gaze from the empty door over to Terik, who studied her quietly in return.
“When you’re finished, Lady Sophya, you may return to your room,” he said simply and then moved to follow his men. “And don’t try to leave the Manor.”
The subtle warning hit her like a bucket of cold water. Sophya remained in her seat as the noise of horses outside faded, and the house fell silent around her. Then she set down her fork, wiped off what she could on the napkin, and left her meal unfinished.
The main hallway was empty as she peered through the door. Sophya hardly dared to breathe as she listened to the house with every fiber of her being, trying to determine if, somehow, she had been left entirely on her own.
‘No. There’s no way. They made it clear that I’m their prisoner.’
She moved down the hallway as quiet as a mouse while her heart continued to hammer away in her ear. There were no witch hunters or servants anywhere to be seen. Even the front doors of the Manor had been left unguarded.
‘Did—everyone leave?’
“Don’t try to leave the Manor.”
Terik’s pointed warning prickled down Sophya’s spine even as her feet carried her to the door, which had been left unlocked. A strangled laugh died in her throat as Sophya turned the knob slowly and opened the door.
The bright sunlit lawn of the Manor’s front yard greeted her like an autumn dream. Sophya leaned against the door, suddenly lightheaded as her mind screamed at her to go back to her room while her body desperately wanted to run.
‘This—might be the only chance I get. Even if this is a trap, they still need me alive to help them swing the votes to Earl Coldwell’s favor.’
She took a deep breath and moved one foot over the threshold, flinching as her sole touched the oak planks on the other side.
Nothing happened.
Her second foot quickly followed, and then Sophya was running madly towards the stable open doors.
No cries of protests or angry curses followed her. She sprinted forward, muscles tense, ears straining for even the faintest sound of footsteps, gunshots, or even laughter.
‘Run,’ her mind screamed. ‘Think about where to go later.’ Sophya clenched her chattering teeth together as she caught the side of the stable door and slid through the dusty air inside.
Every single stall door was open. The stables were empty.
“Wha—No!” Sophya sobbed as she wandered further in, spinning from side to side. Wasn’t there even a pony or donkey she could use?
The sound of the stable door slamming shut froze the confused girl in her tracks. Through the light from the window above the stable door, she could see the shadow of a man.
“So this is where you ran off too,” Gus snorted as he stalked towards her. “As good as it is of you to volunteer to clean out the stables, there’s plenty of work for you inside the Manor.”
Sophya flinched when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her along behind him, ignoring her panted protests.
“What—work? What are you—talking about?”
“Did you think I was going to let you sit in your room all day again?”
The thought had crossed her mind, but Sophya quickly shook her head. “I don’t understand—what about the servants.”
“They’re locked up in their rooms. While most of the witch hunters are away, it’s not a good idea to let them out. So for now, it will just be you, me, and Vanya.”
‘He couldn’t be serious. Did he actually expect her to do household chores like some slave or servant?’
The reality of this unexpected turn of events greeted her the moment they returned to the dining room. The table had been emptied of plates but was still covered in crumbs and sticky stains from breakfast.
“You can clean this room once you’ve finished with the dishes,” Gus commented as he continued to pull her through and down the servant’s hall.
“I-I can’t—I don’t know how—”
Vanya was waiting in the kitchen, eating from a plate. She looked up as they entered and set down her plate with a snort.
“Found her in the stable,” Gus explained with a cheeky grin.
“Then we’ll have to double her chores as punishment,” Vanya replied and promptly threw an apron and gloves at Sophya’s chest.
The numb noblewoman stared at the tacky garments and leaned against the nearby counter as she took in the mountain of plates, cooking pots and pans, that occupied one of the two large sinks and most of the counters on either side.
“This—is too much!” Sophya protested.
“Needs must, your ladyship,” Vanya remarked with a snort. “Gus and I will be busy training. I expect this to be done before lunchtime. Otherwise, you’ll be getting a lashing from Master Gus here.”
Sophya went rigid as Gus bent down to pick up the apron and gloves and held them out to her with a mocking smile.
“It’s not complicated, Lady Sophya,” Gus explained with a trickle of mirth. “You rinse the dish with water, rub the sponge with soap and then rub it on the dish, rinse again and then set it on the empty counter here. He patted the only empty counter on the other side of the kitchen, which had been covered in linen. “When this side fills up. Grab a towel from that basket, dry, and put them all away, then return to cleaning the rest.”
“And rinse and repeat,” Vanya said dismissively as she took the apron and gloves from Gus and shoved them into Sophya’s chest with enough force to make the girl double over with a gasp. “Try to run like that again, and I’ll be the one whipping you.”
All the blood had drained from Sophya’s face by the time the witch hunter and Gus had left the kitchen. She looked down at the hideous leather gloves and smelly apron and watched as they darkened with her tears.
‘Why?’
She threw the gloves at the tiled floor and worked on pulling the apron over her head before tying it behind her back.
‘Even Maura never had to wash dishes.’
Sophya cringed as she pulled on the first leather glove. The inside was damp, and it felt as if dirt or sand had gotten inside.
‘Am I going to be treated like a servant until they need me to submit my vote for the House of Lords?’
She pulled on the other glove and stiffened as one of her perfectly manicured fingernails poked through a hole at the tip.
‘Is this why I’m still alive? To suffer like this?’
Her legs moved stiffly towards the sink, where she turned the handle to start the water and then grabbed the nearest, smallest plate.
‘Wash dishes now and cry later. This can’t be worse than getting whipped by an ex-slave or his witch hunter bitch.’
Sophya whipped her tears on her sleeve and then felt her resolve crumble as she took in the empty soap tray and then realized—she had no idea where the kitchen staff kept the spare bars of soap.