Chapter 8: Trembling but obedient.

Chapter 8

The maid who led Sigrid through the estate corridors moved as though each step carried the weight of unseen judgment, her shoulders stiff and her breathing shallow as she descended toward the servants’ wing. The polished grandeur of the upper manor gradually dissolved into narrower passageways of stone and iron, where the air grew colder and carried the faint scent of medicinal herbs and stale linen. Every sound seemed amplified in that descent, the faint echo of footsteps and the distant murmur of servants below forming an uneasy rhythm that only deepened the maid’s growing dread.

Sigrid said nothing as she followed. Her silence was not absence but pressure, an unspoken authority that settled heavily upon the maid’s spine until even her thoughts felt exposed. When they finally arrived at the staff sick bay, the maid hesitated at the threshold, her hand trembling against the doorframe as though crossing it would seal her fate. Sigrid, however, offered no patience for hesitation. She pushed the door open and stepped inside with composed certainty, her gaze sweeping the dim interior lined with narrow beds, medical trays, and hastily arranged supplies. The room was empty of its expected occupant.

There was no Lilith.

For a moment, quietness deepened. Then Sigrid turned her gaze slowly toward the maid who had brought her there, her expression unreadable, calm in a way that made the air feel tighter. The maid instinctively stepped back, her heel catching slightly against the floor as she tried to retreat without drawing attention, but the movement was noticed instantly. Sigrid’s voice followed without haste, soft yet absolute, carrying no question within it.

"Where is Lilith."

The maid froze entirely, her lips parting as she struggled to form words that would not condemn her further. Panic gathered quickly in her eyes, spilling into her voice as she lowered her head in desperation.

"My lady, I swear upon my standing I left her within this room as instructed," she said hurriedly, her words tumbling over one another as fear dissolved her composure. "She had been brought here unconscious and injured. I ensured she was placed within care before I departed. I know nothing beyond that truth."

Sigrid took a single step forward. It was unhurried, almost graceful, yet it forced the maid backward until she pressed against a metal tray stand, the faint clatter of instruments trembling in response. The room felt suddenly smaller, as though even the walls leaned inward to witness what followed. Sigrid raised her hand and touched the maid’s cheek lightly, an almost absent gesture, neither cruel nor kind, but unsettling in its calm precision.

"Where is she," Sigrid repeated, her voice lowered now, carrying something that no longer resembled inquiry but inevitability. "Or else."

The maid flinched violently at the whisper that followed, her breath breaking as fear overtook thought. Words spilled from her in a rush, fractured and unguarded.

"She threatened me, my lady," she confessed, her voice trembling as her composure finally shattered. "She told me I would be dismissed without reference, that I would be made to repay every coin I have earned if I disobeyed her. She said I would lose my position and my brother would be left without tuition."

For a brief moment, silence returned, heavier than before. Sigrid studied her without interruption, her gaze neither softening nor condemning, only assessing with unsettling clarity. Then she spoke, her tone quieter now, almost thoughtful.

"You are not lying." She could tell when someone was lying, that was needed always being in a room of scheming ministers and conniving women.

The words alone broke the tension within the maid, her shoulders sagging as relief and fear collided in equal measure. She nodded quickly, clutching at the moment as though it might save her.

"I can retrieve her," the maid said in haste, her voice rising with desperate eagerness. "I know where she has gone. I will bring her to you at once, I swear it upon my life."

Sigrid regarded her for a moment longer before answering, her voice calm and precise, devoid of urgency.

"If you bring Lilith before me," she said evenly, "I will overlook this disobedience."

The effect was immediate. Relief overwhelmed the maid so abruptly that she nearly collapsed in place. She bowed quickly, repeatedly, before turning and rushing from the room as though the very air might punish her if she lingered.

Sigrid did not follow immediately. She allowed the silence to settle again, then moved after her at a measured pace, her presence unhurried yet inescapable, like a verdict already passed but not yet executed.

The maid led her through the rear corridors of the estate where polished stone gave way to service paths and open courtyards bordered by storage buildings. The atmosphere shifted noticeably, the refinement of noble interiors replaced by rawer, more practical surroundings where servants moved quickly with lowered eyes. Eventually, the maid came to a halt near a secluded outer yard where a few figures lingered near the back entrance.

And there stood Lilith.

Lilith’s voice cut through the moment before anything else could settle, sharp despite her weakened condition as she turned toward the maid.

"Where are you taking me, you wench," she demanded, her tone fractured with pain and defiance.

But her protest faltered the moment her eyes landed upon Sigrid. Her entire body jerked instinctively, a sudden tremor running through her limbs as recognition and fear collided. The movement caused her injuries to flare, and she let out a restrained sound of pain as she struggled to remain upright.

Sigrid’s expression softened slightly, not with mercy but with recognition of response.

"Good," she said simply, as though the reaction confirmed something she had already anticipated.

The maid immediately bowed and retreated, her earlier desperation replaced by the urgency of escape. Lilith shot her a glare filled with resentment, but the maid did not meet it, disappearing from the yard without hesitation.

Sigrid stepped forward, her pace unhurried, each step closing the distance between them with quiet inevitability until there was no space left for retreat. When she stopped, she looked down at Lilith with composed authority that allowed no resistance room to breathe.

"You dare attempt escape from my grasp once more," Sigrid said softly, her voice steady and unyielding.

Lilith’s panic surged, her breath quickening as instinct searched for options that did not exist. Yet before she could speak, Sigrid continued, cutting through the moment with finality.

"It matters not," she said. "You are no longer in a position to decide otherwise. From this moment forward, you will serve for me and me alone."

Lilith’s eyes widened, fear giving way briefly to disbelief before settling into something quieter, more resigned. Her voice broke as she spoke, barely above a whisper.

"Why did I sleep with the duke," she said, the question carrying exhaustion more than defiance.

Sigrid’s lips curved faintly, not in warmth but in detached acknowledgment.

"I find myself asking the same inquiry," she replied. "Even though he is my father, he is not a man pleasing to the eye. Quite short, in truth."

Lilith exhaled shakily, bitterness creeping into her expression despite her fear.

"You would not understand," she said. "You are a noble. You have never known what it means to struggle as we do."

Sigrid looked at her for a moment longer, her gaze steady and unreadable, though something deeper flickered briefly beneath it, not sympathy exactly but understanding in a colder, sharper form. Not agreement with the act itself, but recognition of desperation, of survival twisted into choices that should never have existed in the first place. She was the same back when she was still the Queen.

"I would not shame it," Sigrid said after a pause, her tone measured and precise. "The need to survive in a world that treats women as objects, the need to assert dominance in any form necessary, I understand that much. But getting into bed with another woman’s man, even if that woman is detestable, is utterly disgusting."

Lilith’s expression tightened at the words, her pride flickering despite everything. After a moment of hesitation, she asked cautiously, her voice uncertain.

"Have you told the duke."

Sigrid’s answer came without delay.

"No."

The response startled Lilith visibly, her breath catching as understanding sharpened her fear. Sigrid observed the reaction with faint amusement, allowing a quiet breath of laughter to pass her lips.

"Not yet," she added calmly.

Lilith frowned, suspicion mingling with unease as she studied her carefully.

"Then why not," she asked. "Do you not seek revenge."

For a moment, Sigrid did not answer. Her gaze drifted slightly, as though something far away had pulled her thoughts backward through time. The memory of standing among spectators at her execution surfaced briefly, the same man present among those who watched her fall without interference, his expression calm, almost satisfied. Her fingers tightened slightly before she steadied herself again, forcing the memory back into place where it belonged.

When she spoke, her voice was colder. "He is insignificant," she said. "Not worth my effort. However, insignificance does not equate to uselessness."

Lilith studied her quietly before letting out a faint, weary chuckle, though something sorrowful lingered beneath it.

"You are unlike what you once were," she murmured. "Or perhaps we simply failed to see you clearly before now."

Sigrid’s expression hardened slightly, ending the moment with quiet authority.

"Enough," she said. "Rise. You will accompany me."

And Lilith, trembling but obedient, obeyed.