“What is it?”
“The priest requests another meeting with you.”
“Theodor?”
Agatha was puzzled. He had already completed the day’s prayers and consultation. What reason could he have for returning? She quickly granted him entry.
Theodor entered briskly, closing the door behind him.
“What’s the matter?”
His face, usually serene, was shadowed with worry. Just moments ago, during their prayer session, he had been calm and composed. What could have happened in such a short time? Concerned, Agatha gestured for him to sit, taking her place across from him.
“How does the young lady fare in this household?” he asked immediately, his tone unusually urgent.
His question caught her off guard. While she had just been discussing her stepdaughter with him earlier, it was unlike him to ask so directly. Theodor knew of Beatrice’s place in the family, but their interactions were virtually nonexistent. For him to bring her up now was unexpected.
“I… suppose she gets by quietly. There haven’t been any major issues,” Agatha replied hesitantly, uncertain how else to describe the relationship.
“No major issues, you say?”
For a brief moment, anger flashed across Theodor’s face—not directed at Agatha, but enough to leave her flustered. Before she could speak further, he continued.
“I saw the young lady in the garden just now.”
“You did?”
Beatrice rarely left her room, though she occasionally strolled in the garden. Come to think of it, hadn’t there been a small fire in her room earlier? The wardrobe had burned slightly, though she’d been told it was quickly extinguished. Perhaps Beatrice had gone outside while her room was cleaned.
“She was sitting under a tree in her nightgown and barefoot,” Theodor explained.
“Her nightgown? Barefoot?”
In the dead of winter?
Agatha’s eyes widened in disbelief. She couldn’t fathom how such a thing had happened. Were the maids not attending to her? What were they doing, letting a young lady sit outside in such a state?
Her confusion was evident, and Theodor nodded grimly.
“What were the maids doing?” she asked, frustration creeping into her voice.
“When I asked the young lady, she said the maids had hidden her slippers.”
“Hidden her slippers?”
Agatha was dumbfounded. It sounded absurd. She resented Beatrice, yes, but it was the kind of resentment born of awkwardness and guilt, not malice. She had no desire to see the girl mistreated. She paid her staff well to perform their duties, not to torment anyone.
She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to process what she had just heard.
“It seems you were unaware,” Theodor said gently.
“Completely,” Agatha admitted, her voice heavy with shame.
“And…”
Theodor hesitated, as if unsure how to proceed. Agatha, already feeling the beginnings of a headache, pressed her temples and waited for him to continue.
“She may not simply be the victim of petty harassment.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Theodor’s expression darkened further as he began to speak, but before he could finish, Agatha cut him off with a sharp cry.
“Linda! Linda!”
Her voice, usually poised, cracked with anger and alarm as she summoned the head maid. Theodor sat silently across from her, his face somber, as Agatha wrestled with a mix of guilt, fury, and helplessness.
* * *
At exactly six o’clock, her eldest son, Calrex, would return. The sound of the clock’s ticking filled the room, grating on Agatha’s already frayed nerves.
She sat in her room, holding her head in her hands, while Linda, the head maid, stood nearby, failing to mask her unease as her eyes darted nervously.
She had sent a servant to find her second son, Felix, who was out somewhere. He should arrive around the same time as Calrex. A deep, heavy sigh escaped her lips, clinging to the room like a damp fog.
Theodor, after informing her of his concerns, had excused himself, saying it wasn’t his place to interfere further. Before leaving, he had urged her to make a wise decision. Agatha’s initial impulse had been to immediately interrogate the household staff and uncover the truth, but she knew better than to act rashly.
She didn’t believe Beatrice had lied to the priest—it wasn’t in the girl’s nature—but the estrangement between herself and her daughter made it difficult to be certain. For now, she decided to consult her sons and handle the matter quietly.
“What’s going on?”
The first to arrive was Felix, who opened the door and walked in with a faintly flushed face. He had clearly been drinking, likely enjoying his day off at some tavern.
Agatha pointed to the sofa opposite her without hiding her headache. Felix, fortunately not overly intoxicated, walked straight to the seat and sat down.
“There was a fire in Beatrice’s room this morning. Were you aware?”
“Oh, that? Well…” Felix scratched his head, hesitating uncharacteristically.
“It was Beatrice who set the fire herself. It was so odd that I planned to bring it up when we were all together tonight.”
“She started it herself?”
The head maid, Linda, had reported the fire as an accident. Agatha shot her a sharp glare, and Linda bowed deeply, almost in apology.
Though she glared, Agatha didn’t voice any reprimands. Managing the household was her responsibility, and her explicit lack of concern for Beatrice had created this situation. She had instructed the staff not to bother her with matters related to the girl unless absolutely necessary, and she hadn’t asked any questions herself.
“She’s always been a little unhinged, so it’s not surprising she’d start a fire,” Felix muttered.
“Felix,” Agatha said, her tone warning him.
Felix ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Fine, listen. Setting the fire was strange enough, but then she started saying bizarre things.”
“What kind of things?”
“When I went to check her room, the wardrobe was full of dead rats—burned to a crisp.”
Agatha felt a wave of dizziness.
“She said her maid likes rats and frequently releases them into her room.”
“Linda!”
“I… I wasn’t aware, my lady. I’m sorry. I’ll investigate immediately.”
Agatha wanted to lash out, but as the lady of the house, she had been blind to the situation herself. She couldn’t entirely blame her staff when she had openly displayed her disdain for Beatrice. The staff likely took cues from her behavior.
‘This is my fault,’ she thought bitterly.
‘All of it is my fault.’
“I may not like the girl, but I never wanted her to be tormented like this,” she said aloud.
“What do you mean by ‘tormented’?”
The door opened, and Calrex’s voice cut through the room. Still in his outdoor attire, he had evidently come straight to her summons. His brow furrowed slightly as he took in the scene, displeased by the subject of conversation.
Beatrice had always been a troublesome topic for their family—an unpleasant, uncomfortable presence they preferred not to acknowledge.
“Sit down,” Agatha ordered.
Calrex sat beside Felix, while Agatha took a moment to gather her thoughts. Each family member had their own reasons for being indifferent toward Beatrice.
Beatrice had always been peculiar. As she grew older, her expressions and emotions seemed to dwindle. At first, they had assumed she was simply awkward or shy, but the more they interacted with her, the more unsettling her presence became.
Eventually, they realized it wasn’t that she struggled to express emotions—she seemed not to have them at all.
They had confirmed this suspicion at the duke’s funeral. Despite losing the father who had taken her in, Beatrice had sat silently, showing no grief. Her expression wasn’t one of concealed sorrow; it was the face of someone who felt nothing.
The family, who had loved the late duke deeply, couldn’t reconcile themselves with her indifference. Slowly, they began to distance themselves from her, leading to the estrangement that persisted to this day.
Agatha shook her head, trying to dispel her thoughts. Blaming Beatrice wouldn’t solve anything. Evasion and indirectness wouldn’t help either.
“Theodor spoke with Beatrice today,” Agatha began.
“The meddlesome priest asked us to be more attentive to her, did he?” Calrex sneered, but his expression hardened at Agatha’s next words.
“Beatrice asked him to kill her.”
A chilling silence fell over the room.
Calrex’s face turned cold as he stared at his mother. Felix, who had been half-listening while gazing out the window, snapped to attention, his eyes wide with disbelief. He even rubbed his ears, as if he’d misheard.
“What do you mean?” Calrex asked finally.
“Exactly what I said. She told him she wanted to die but couldn’t. She then asked if he could use divine power to end her life painlessly because she didn’t want to suffer anymore.”
Calrex’s disbelief deepened. If Beatrice claimed she couldn’t die, that implied she had tried multiple times. If she didn’t want to suffer, it suggested those attempts had been agonizing.
“Do you know how she’s been living in this house?” Agatha asked quietly.
“Well… I…”
Calrex couldn’t answer. Like his mother, he had always assumed Beatrice was managing on her own and never bothered to find out otherwise. Felix, too, sat silently, unable to contribute.
“For now, we need to learn more. Linda, where is Beatrice?”
“She is currently dining in the dining hall.”
“Dining? That’s unusual.”
Beatrice rarely left her room, even for meals. Felix recalled the fire in her room and figured the cleaning process must have forced her out.
Neither Agatha nor Calrex questioned why the cleaning of a single wardrobe had taken all day; their minds were occupied with other matters.
“Prepare dinner for us in the dining hall,” Agatha instructed. “We’ll join her for a meal.”
* * *
The dining hall of the Ember duchy was far too large for its current occupants. Once, long ago, it had housed cousins, in-laws, and their descendants, which justified its grand size. Now, however, the Ember family consisted of only four people.
The oversized space felt unnecessary, especially now, with Beatrice seated alone at the center of the long table. The emptiness only served to amplify the hall’s vastness.
Beatrice usually kept to her room, handling everything there. But after the sun had set, the decision to close the window had been a mistake. The lingering smell of the burned wardrobe, the charred rats within, and the overturned meal made her room unbearable. She would have to sleep in a guest room tonight, she mused, while waiting for her dinner.
She had come to the dining hall out of necessity, knowing the family’s head chef didn’t cook for her. Meals were always prepared by her maid, Maya. Beatrice speculated on what petty sabotage Maya might have planned this time. Rotten ingredients, dirt, or bugs were the maid’s usual tricks.
But this morning’s defiance might have driven Maya to something new. Beatrice stared absently at the pristine white tablecloth, lost in thought, when the dining hall door swung open without so much as a knock.
Maya entered, balancing a plate in one hand and smiling sweetly. She placed the dish before Beatrice: risotto topped with perfectly cut pieces of meat.
Unusually, the dish wasn’t cold, overcooked, or spoiled. The plate was warm, and the rice and meat glistened invitingly.
Beatrice picked up her spoon, thinking, ‘Let’s see what she’s done this time.’
Years of enduring Maya’s sabotage had taught her how to navigate such meals. As soon as Beatrice lifted her spoon, she noticed Maya watching her intently, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
‘So transparent,’ Beatrice thought.
“Stand behind me,” she said coldly.
“What kind of servant stares at their master while they eat?”
Maya’s face twisted in displeasure, but she obeyed, stepping behind Beatrice while muttering under her breath. It was unusual for her to stay and watch—clearly, she was hoping for a reaction to her latest scheme. Beatrice considered clapping for the audacity.
Just as Beatrice was about to take her first bite, the door flew open again, this time without a knock or any pretense of manners.
Felix entered, meeting her gaze briefly before looking away. He sat down without a word, likely here for dinner. Beatrice was an unwelcome guest in their family’s dining hall, but she doubted he would order her to leave.
She ignored him until the door opened once more, this time admitting two more people: Calrex and Agatha. With the head of the family and the duchess present, dinner would clearly be far from peaceful.
“Good evening,” Agatha greeted her unexpectedly.
“Yes, good evening,” Beatrice replied stiffly.
Agatha’s greeting was surprising. Normally, even if their paths crossed in the hallway, the duchess wouldn’t acknowledge her presence. Was this a perfunctory gesture, given they were about to share a meal?
Agatha sat opposite her, with Calrex and Felix flanking her sides. The seating arrangement felt stifling, as though she were under scrutiny. Beatrice kept her gaze lowered, focusing on her plate.
“It seems your meal is already prepared. Go ahead and start eating; ours will be out shortly,” Agatha said.
Her eyes quickly scanned Beatrice’s meal, noting its simplicity. While the dish appeared decent, it was clear it hadn’t been prepared by the family chef. Perhaps the girl’s maid had made it? As Agatha glanced up, she noticed Maya standing behind Beatrice, her face pale and tense.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ Agatha wondered, narrowing her eyes.
Beatrice, with the unspoken permission granted, began eating. She took a spoonful of the risotto, finding nothing wrong with the taste or texture. There were no strange flavors or foreign substances.
‘Could it be poison?’
She speculated briefly. But even Maya wouldn’t cross the line into murder—poisoning a noble was an entirely different matter.
While Beatrice pondered, Calrex and Agatha exchanged silent glances, debating how to broach the topic at hand. Calrex, still skeptical about the claims Agatha had shared earlier, stared at Beatrice, who remained entirely oblivious to his gaze.
Felix and Agatha exchanged a look, a silent argument playing o
ut. ‘You should start,’ her eyes said.
‘I’m not a child anymore—stop calling me that. And don’t ask me to do it,’ his expression replied.
Their silent standoff ended when Calrex broke the ice.
“Beatrice, there’s something I’d like to ask—”
But he never finished his sentence.
Beatrice suddenly spat the food from her mouth onto the table, interrupting him mid-sentence.
“That’s disgusting. What are you—”
Calrex began, his words cutting off as his expression shifted to one of shock. The spat-out food was mixed with traces of blood.
Had she bitten her tongue? That’s what it looked like, but then Beatrice reached into her mouth with her fingers, probing as though searching for something.
All three family members froze, watching in stunned silence as Beatrice extracted a thin needle embedded in her tongue. The needle, glistening with blood, had pierced her tongue’s tip. She pulled it out, pressed a napkin to the wound, and examined the needle briefly before setting it aside.
Behind her, Maya looked ready to faint. Beatrice, without turning to look at her, merely thought, *Well, that’s unexpected.*
She calmly wrapped the needle in the napkin, placed it aside, and began digging through her food with her spoon. She uncovered five or six more needles, setting each one aside before resuming her meal.
The sound of someone slamming the table made her look up.
“This… what is this?” Felix demanded, standing, his fists clenched in anger.
Beatrice’s expression remained remarkably calm. She simply looked at him as if to say, ‘Can I eat now?’
Her nonchalant attitude stunned all three of them. To find needles in her food, to be injured by one, and yet to respond as though it were a mild inconvenience—it was surreal. Agatha felt faint.
“If my presence here is uncomfortable, I can eat elsewhere,” Beatrice said.
Calrex and Felix exchanged incredulous looks, struggling to process her words. Agatha, suppressing her own dizziness, turned her attention to Maya.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” she demanded.
“I… I… it’s not—” Maya stammered.
“Enough. I doubt I’d get the truth from you anyway.”
Agatha rang the small bell on the table. She had dismissed all the servants earlier to ensure privacy, a decision she now regretted. When attendants arrived, she instructed them to take Maya away.
“Mistress! Please, listen to me!” Maya cried desperately, but Agatha ignored her, staring instead at her stepdaughter.
Beatrice met her gaze, one brow raised as if to say, ‘What now?’ Agatha felt a pang of helplessness. She didn’t know where to start or how to unravel the mess her negligence had created.
“Explain,” Calrex demanded, his voice sharp.
“Calrex, keep quiet,” Agatha snapped, silencing him with a glare. She sighed and rubbed her temples.
“Beatrice, we have much to discuss.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Beatrice replied, her golden eyes—so similar to those of the Ember bloodline—regarding them coolly. Her distant demeanor was another reminder of how deeply the family had failed her.
Agatha inhaled deeply. Even if the solution wasn’t clear, she had to do something. She met Beatrice’s gaze, forcing her expression to soften.
“All of the time we’ve spent apart—”
Agatha began, her voice steady but tinged with regret.
“We need to talk about it,” she said firmly, leaving no room for argument.
❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃
☕ Hi, friends! Your support means the world to me. If you’d like, you can buy me a coffee here: Click the link on the image! 💖
Thank you for keeping me inspired! 🌸
❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃
