Seren stood in the fading light, watching the last trace of Liliane vanish into the trees, and for the first time in weeks, her chest didn’t feel so tight. She was glad the girl had left. Honestly, truly glad. This house—these people—were too cruel to deserve someone like her. And the bitter part was… Seren had once been one of them.

  Back when she’d first arrived, they’d pulled her aside before she even saw the manor’s grand staircases. Whispered warnings in hushed tones. Don’t speak to her. Don’t meet her eyes. Don’t breathe too loudly, or she might decide you don’t need your lungs. Every servant she passed added a layer of tension to her spine. Before she’d served Liliane a single cup of tea, she’d been made to fear the very act of standing in the same room.

  The stories had painted the girl as a nightmare. A cursed noble with a taste for suffering. They said she drowned a stray kitten in the courtyard fountain, laughing as it thrashed. She’d ordered a maid stoned for being too pretty, then watched with bored eyes as her blood soaked the gravel. Seren had believed it. Every word. She’d been terrified to step through that door, certain she was walking into a death sentence. When she dared to ask what happened to the last girl assigned to Lady Liliane, the head maid only said she’d vanished and that if Seren wanted to keep breathing, she’d better not make any mistakes.

  “They say she’s a demon’s child,” the head maid had said with a sneer. “I don’t know why he still lets her breathe.”

  Seren had nodded like a good little servant. Everyone said the same thing. She didn’t question it. She didn’t ask for proof. She didn't look too close when every hallway whispered the same warning. You accepted that you were being sent to serve a monster.

  And watching Lady Liliane walk the halls—chin high, eyes cold, silence trailing behind her like a blade—it hadn’t been hard to believe. Seren had seen the bruises on a pageboy’s wrist after he was dragged out of her room. Heard the sobs of a dismissed maid who never got told what she did wrong. Liliane didn’t need to raise her voice to make people flinch. She just needed to exist.

  So Seren believed it. Let herself believe it.

  Until yesterday.

  She’d been ordered to bring Lady Liliane tea. Routine. Normal. But when she picked up the tray, she’d seen the maid add something—just two drops. Clear. Scentless. But wrong. The maid told her to mind her place when asked what it was. “She won’t notice,” she’d said.

  But she had.

  Lady Liliane hadn’t just noticed—she’d shattered the cup, the tray, everything. Seren still remembered the sound. Sharp. Final. She’d expected to be next. But when she returned with fresh tea, trembling, braced for pain, Liliane hadn’t struck her. Hadn’t screamed. Sure, she’d poured the tea over her head, but after that? She’d said it wasn’t her fault. Let her go.

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  That night, Seren couldn’t sleep.

  The next morning, she brought herself to knock on Liliane’s door—and when she opened it, she found the feared noble curled in tangled sheets, breath hitching, tears streaking down her face in sleep.

  That was when everything changed.

  Liliane hadn’t looked like a villain then. She hadn’t looked like someone dangerous. She looked like a girl left behind. Someone no one had ever tried to save.

  Since then, every sharp word out of her mouth has hit differently. The cruelty didn’t land like daggers anymore—it landed like a child swinging a sword too big for her hands. Every biting remark, every dry jab—it wasn’t menace. It was clumsy, misfired armour. A girl who didn’t know how to ask for anything but control. Honestly? It looked kind of cute. Like watching a kitten try to roar.

  And Seren had made a choice.

  If no one else would stand at her side, then Seren would. If it meant lying, she’d lie. If it meant fighting, she’d fight. If it meant killing, so be it. They said her father had found a new girl—sweet, obedient, marketable. A saint. Someone easier to love.

  But Liliane was the one worth protecting.

  She deserved more than poison and whispers and betrayals in every hallway.

  So, as the black mare vanished down the forest road, Seren stood in the doorway and didn’t move.

  Be happy, she thought. Be free. And if you ever come back… I’ll still be here.

  The snap of boot heels against stone jolted Seren from her thoughts.

  She turned. The butler stormed up the path from the direction of the stables, spine stiff, brows drawn like slashes carved in stone. His steps struck the ground with the kind of rhythm that warned someone was about to bleed for his inconvenience.

  Seren lowered her head. She didn’t want to meet his eyes. No one did when he was like this.

  “You,” he snapped, voice slicing through the dusk. “You’re that thing’s servant, aren’t you?”

  That thing. Her throat tightened, but she nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Then why didn’t you stop it?”

  It. Not her. Not the Duke’s daughter. Not Lady Liliane. Just it.

  Seren clenched her fists in her skirts. Her nails dug half-moons into her palms. She kept her voice even, not because she felt calm but because she’d learned to fake it.

  “I tried to stop her,” she said. “She overpowered me.”

  The lie scraped her throat raw on the way out.

  The butler's nostrils flared. His hands curled at his sides like he was picturing them wrapped around someone’s neck. “The master will not be pleased. Someone’s going to answer for this.”

  He whirled toward the stables. “Get the horses,” he barked. “I want her trail picked up now. Go!”

  The soldiers scattered to obey, grabbing reins and tightening saddles.

  Then he turned back to her.

  “Report to the head maid,” he said coldly. “You’ll be punished for this.”

  He didn’t wait for a response—just shoulder-checked her as he passed, disappearing into the manor with the same clipped steps he’d arrived on.

  Seren stayed where she was.

  She watched as the soldiers rode out, their hoofbeats kicking up dust in the dying light, heading toward the path Liliane had vanished down.

  Please don’t find her, she thought. Please let her outrun them all.

  Be safe, she thought. Please be safe, my Lady.

  Only when their silhouettes vanished did she turn back toward the house. Her feet felt heavy, but she moved.

  Whatever punishment waited inside couldn’t hurt nearly as much as watching them try to drag that girl back.