Chapter 9: Dress fit for revenge.

Chapter 9

The moment Sigrid and Lilith disappeared beyond the far end of the courtyard, the estate seemed to exhale into a quieter rhythm, as though the very stones were relieved to no longer bear witness to what had just unfolded. Yet that silence did not last long. From behind a half-closed stone column near the service archway, a figure slowly emerged, her steps careful and her posture controlled in a way that suggested she had not simply stumbled upon the scene but had chosen to remain unseen until certainty had been gathered. Maria Beaufort stepped fully into view, her gaze immediately drawn toward the disturbed space Lilith had occupied only moments before.

Her eyes lingered on the faint marks of struggle, the hurried retreat of servants, and the lingering tension in the air that had not yet settled back into normalcy. She had not seen everything, only fragments that her arrival had missed by seconds, yet what she had witnessed was enough to unsettle her composure. Lilith kneeling, trembling beneath the weight of something unseen, had been enough to spark confusion, but what truly anchored itself in her memory was the final words she had overheard before silence reclaimed the courtyard.

"Enough," Sigrid had said, her tone steady and final. "Rise. You will accompany me."

Maria repeated the words softly under her breath, as though tasting them might reveal their hidden meaning, yet no clarity came. Instead, it left her with an unfamiliar discomfort that settled behind her ribs. Sigrid, in her memory, had never concerned herself with servants beyond necessity. She had never lingered, never intervened, and certainly never issued commands that carried such weight. Whatever had occurred here did not align with the Sigrid she thought she understood.

Her gaze shifted toward the direction they had gone, narrowing slightly as thought layered upon thought. Lilith had not been someone of importance in the household hierarchy, not enough to draw personal attention from a duke’s daughter even though neglected, and certainly not enough to be taken away personally. Maria’s fingers tightened faintly against her skirts as she tried to construct a reason that would align with logic, but none formed cleanly enough to satisfy her curiosity.

As she stepped further into the courtyard, the servants nearby immediately lowered their heads in practiced respect. The gesture was instinctive, almost rehearsed, and Maria acknowledged it with a faint nod that barely disrupted her composure. Yet even as she moved through them, she could not shake the sense that something within the household was beginning to shift in ways that were not yet visible, like cracks forming beneath polished marble.

When she finally looked up toward the open sky above the estate walls, a faint smile touched her lips, subtle but certain, as though she had already chosen which interpretation of events to accept. Whatever Sigrid was doing, it did not matter in the grand design she had already committed herself to.

"In the end, nothing deviates from what has already been written," she murmured softly to herself, her voice almost lost beneath the wind. "At the royal ball, everything will proceed as intended, and I will not be the one who falters."

With that quiet conviction anchoring her expression, she turned away from the courtyard and began walking back toward the manor’s interior, her steps calm and measured, the disturbance already filed away as a variable she would monitor rather than fear.

-----

Inside Sigrid’s chambers, the atmosphere was entirely different, sealed away from the estate’s open air and filled instead with a controlled stillness that belonged only to those who had long learned how to exist without warmth. Lilith stood near the center of the room, visibly tense, her posture rigid as though she were waiting for punishment that had not yet been delivered. Her hands trembled faintly at her sides, and her eyes avoided every surface except the floor beneath her feet.

Sigrid observed her from near the window for a moment before speaking, her tone carrying a faint edge of amusement that did little to soften its authority.

"Stop behaving as though I intend to devour you where you stand," she said evenly, turning slightly as her gaze settled more directly on Lilith. "Your trembling is becoming tiresome."

Lilith swallowed hard, forcing herself to lift her head just enough to meet Sigrid’s eyes, though the effort seemed to cost her more than she wanted to admit.

"How could I not be afraid," she replied, her voice strained but honest. "You do not speak like anyone I have ever known, and you move as though fear itself does not apply to you."

Sigrid tilted her head slightly, as though considering the statement before dismissing its importance.

"Fear is only a tool when one chooses to acknowledge it," she said calmly. "If you wish to function within my presence, then you will learn when it is necessary and when it is not."

Lilith hesitated, then gave a small, reluctant nod, though the tension in her shoulders did not fully ease. Sigrid moved toward her desk at that moment, retrieving a folded paper before turning it so that Lilith could see it clearly. The seal and ornate lettering immediately identified it as an official announcement.

Lilith read it slowly, her brows knitting together as she processed the content aloud.

"The Royal Ball, held in one week under the patronage of the Crown Prince, attended by all eligible noble daughters of the realm," she recited carefully before glancing up. "What does this have to do with me."

Sigrid leaned lightly against the edge of the desk, her expression composed but observant.

"My father, my stepmother, and Maria departed earlier to acquire a gown for Maria’s attendance," she said evenly.

Lilith did not respond immediately. Instead, she looked away slightly, as though the implication required no verbal confirmation. The silence between them stretched until Sigrid’s faint laugh broke it, low and unbothered.

"Spare me that expression," Sigrid added, her tone sharpening just enough to discourage pity. "I already understood the situation before I spoke it aloud. I only required confirmation."

Lilith lowered her gaze again, uncertain how to respond to that level of detachment. Sigrid straightened, her attention shifting fully back to her.

"From this moment onward, you will serve me alone," she stated. "Not the duke, not Maria, and not Genevieve."

Lilith’s head lifted abruptly at that, shock breaking through her earlier resignation.

"But the duke is my employer," she said quickly, anxiety returning. "If I abandon my duties, he will have me dismissed. I cannot simply refuse him."

Sigrid’s expression did not change, though her tone made it clear she regarded the concern as inconsequential.

"Then you will find a method to ensure he accepts it," she replied. "Your compliance will be redirected, not removed. Wherever I go, you will follow. Whatever I instruct you to keep silent will remain so. If you fail in that...you are already aware of the consequence."

Lilith’s lips parted slightly, but no words came immediately. Something in her expression shifted, a subtle collapse of whatever hope she had been holding onto, as though the scope of her life had suddenly narrowed into something inescapable.

Sigrid watched her in silence for a moment, her thoughts briefly drifting inward. Even though Lilith acted like she had already accepted the fact of it all, hearing that she would be in servitude for someone like me for a long time with little to no free will was breaking her in a quiet, contained way, not with dramatic collapse but with slow acceptance of inevitability. It was familiar. It was how the world always functioned. People existed beneath other people, and survival was measured by how well one adapted to the structure of that hierarchy. She had learned that long before she became what she was now.

When she spoke again, her voice was steadier.

"I will not require your presence for dinner tonight," she said. "Tomorrow morning, you will report here before the sun rises."

Lilith nodded faintly, her obedience now more automatic than chosen. She turned toward the door to leave, but Sigrid’s voice stopped her mid-step.

"And ensure," Sigrid added without looking up, "that you convince my father through natural means. I have no interest in methods that reek of desperation or impropriety."

Lilith flinched slightly but nodded again.

"I understand," she murmured.

As she moved to exit, Sigrid called once more, her tone shifting only slightly.

"Before you leave, prepare my bath."

Lilith obeyed without protest, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her with careful restraint.

Once alone, Sigrid moved toward her bed and lowered herself beside it, sliding her hand beneath the frame until she retrieved a small, secured box. She placed it on the mattress and opened it slowly, revealing neatly arranged Arkovia currency, untouched by the Duke’s household. These were not funds granted by status or inheritance but earned through years of quiet labor, tutoring the children of lesser nobles who never questioned the identity of their instructor.

Her father had never taken interest in her affairs after her mother’s death, and Maria had never interfered in the distribution of what little autonomy she possessed. That neglect had given her something far more valuable than attention: independence.

She closed the box and returned it beneath the bed with measured care before rising to bathe. Steam filled the room a short while later, softening the edges of the world as she stepped out and wrapped herself in quiet routine.

At her wardrobe, she paused, her gaze traveling across the garments within. Each piece reflected noble refinement, but none carried the presence required for the royal court. Her expression tightened faintly as she came to that conclusion.

"I will require something new," she muttered softly, more to herself than the empty room.

Her eyes drifted briefly toward the hidden box beneath the bed, and for the first time that evening, a faint, knowing smile touched her lips.

"I have the means," she said quietly, before turning away.

By the time she finished dressing and brushing her hair, the room had returned to its usual stillness. Sigrid lay down without hesitation, the weight of the day settling into silence as she closed her eyes, already turning her thoughts toward what the royal ball would soon demand of her.