“The cleaning duties have been rearranged today, madam. While the young lady was out walking, I found this.”

Sveta enunciated each syllable firmly as she delivered her response.

“Madam, surely you wouldn’t judge me based on the word of just one maid? I have no reason to steal jewels.”

The wrinkles on Elise’s brow resembled the bars of a musical staff. She sang her accusation in a voice that was almost gleeful.

“Given your notorious taste for extravagance, it is hardly surprising. Were the gowns and jewels that the duke lavished on you not enough?”

“I did not steal them.”

“And who is meant to believe that?”

“……”

Sveta clenched her unpinned hand into a tight fist.

The fact that the dowager had chosen this week, while Aiden was away in Czernok, to frame her made her intentions perfectly clear.

“She intends to cast me out before he returns. Once I’m gone, I’ll fall straight into the hands of an assassin. Then it will be made to look like an accident…”

The plot was as trite as any cliché from a tawdry novel.

“How shameless you are! It’s pitiful what Dalia picked up from the streets.

The dowager slowly clucked her tongue. With each cluck, she stamped her heel down hard on Sveta’s hand.

“Ah…”

“How vulgar you sound!”

Elise screeched in displeasure at the young woman’s pained cry.

Determined not to make a sound, Sveta bit down hard on her lip.

“……”

Only after grinding her heel a few more times did the dowager finally lift her foot from Sveta’s bruised hand. Staring down at the blood welling there, she spoke coldly.

“If you confess the truth now, I may be inclined to forgive you. Speak.”

“……”

“Think of your mother. Doesn’t the thought of Dalia weigh on your conscience?”

Despite her pain, Sveta managed to lift her head and speak firmly.

“Even so, I will not admit to a crime I did not commit. You can lock me away instead.”

The dowager’s face twisted in anger.

“Very well. You’ll regret those words.”

With a flick of her fan, Sveta was seized without hesitation by rough hands.

◯◯◯

Moisture seeped through the moss-covered walls of the dungeon, forming icy trickles that slid down the stones.

Gradually, the damp seeped into the folds of Sveta’s dress as she crouched on the floor.

If the duke saw her like this, he would certainly call her ‘filthy’.

The thought made her let out a bitter laugh.

‘It is my fate to always be defiled and dishonored. Everything that is fine and beautiful belongs to him alone.’

The realization left her aching with longing for Aiden, and with that longing came an even sharper sense of sorrow.

Holding her bleeding hand with the other, she curled up tighter.

Then she heard the sound of sharp, deliberate heels striking the floor. Sveta lifted her head. The source of the clamorous sound was her foster mother, Dalia.

Their gazes clashed through the bars, sharp as blades. It was better that the iron bars stood between them; without them, Dalia might have grabbed her by the throat.

“I didn’t steal anything, Mother.”

Bracing herself for her foster mother’s usual sharp outburst, Sveta was the first to speak.

But her response was completely unexpected.

“I know.”

“……”

Dalia gripped the rusted bars and lowered her body. It was an uncharacteristic gesture.

Sveta stared blankly at the yellow and red floral decorations on her mother’s dress, now stained and dirty. It almost looked like she was… worried about her.

“You’ve earned the dowager hatred.”

“…I don’t understand. Why? What did I do?”

“Now I’m in trouble too, because of you.”

“……”

Sveta let out a murky breath.

Of course Dalia was only concerned about her own safety. That wasn’t surprising.

But that didn’t make it any less painful.

Determined not to show her loneliness, Sveta hardened her expression.

“Just hold out until His Grace the Duke returns.”

“……”

Dalia handed Sveta a small jar of ointment and some rolled gauze through the bars of the cell.

“When the Duke comes back, talk to him by his bed and ask for his help.”

“How can you tell your daughter to do such a thing?”

Unimpressed with the response, Dalia shot her a savage glare and snatched the items back.

“If the Duke bows his head to Madam, everything will be resolved. You know well enough why Madam treats you this way.”

“No, Mother. I don’t. So I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“You don’t? Child, don’t bother playing the fool with me.”

Dalia’s harsh voice echoed loudly and mercilessly against the low ceiling.

“You know, don’t you—that she’s doing this to tame His Grace?”

“…”

“So make him move.”

Of course not! He would never do anything for a false mistress.

The thought that all the kindness she had once believed in might have been a delusion made her heart plummet. It was a chill that seeped into her bones; a wave of sorrow that crashed over her without mercy.

Once again, her feelings for Aiden — her steadfast love — splintered a little more. Sveta wanted to cry out, to cry until her chest was empty.

“…The baron, too…”

Dalia pressed her face close to the bars, lowering her voice to a vulgar whisper.

“The baron did everything I asked in bed. Even taking you in as his foster daughter—that was all decided between the sheets.”

“……”

“Men are simple creatures.”

“Mother, I don’t want to hear any more.”

Her firm refusal did nothing to stop the slimy murmur that clung to her ear like damp rot.

“Resistance won’t get you anywhere. And you—always trying to use your head. Use your hips instead.”

“Heavens, Mother! How can you say such things… Please, stop.”

Sveta turned her back and clamped her hands over her ears. It wasn’t enough to block the words completely, but it conveyed her meaning well enough.

Tsk, tsk.

 Dalia clicked her tongue in contempt.

“Then what will you do? Beg the dowager for forgiveness?”

“……”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to beg the man who pants above you? At least that remains between the two of you. But this—this shame before the servants!”

“……”

Sveta remained silent, as though she had not heard anything.

When this failed to provoke a response, Dalia tapped on the bars and clapped her hands, doing anything she could to draw her foster daughter’s attention.

“Pathetic, Sveta.”

Clicking her tongue once more, she finally stormed away, her heels striking the stone floor with heavy, furious thuds.

“……”

Left alone, Sveta stared at the spot where her foster mother had been standing.

Scattered on the ground were a roll of gauze and a small jar of ointment.

Impulsively, she thr*st her arm through the bars as far as she could, but the items were just out of reach.

She slipped off her shoe. Tilting her head back, she gripped the slender heel and flailed, reaching desperately. After a long struggle, she finally felt something nudge the tip of her shoe.

“Got it…”

The gauze was too light, but Sveta managed to pull the small jar of ointment towards her. She carefully spread the balm over her wounded hand.

It was absurd, really — treating a shoe-caused wound with the help of another shoe. The bitter irony drew a sigh from her lips.

“Haa…”

Now, she was completely and utterly alone.

Time had lost all meaning. The candle fixed to the wall flickered out, plunging her into darkness. Day and night blurred into one.

‘It’s so cold…’

Sveta curled up into a ball. Damp moss crept along the stone floor, which was wet from the constant trickle of water down the walls. Soaked like the moss, she shivered as the chill gnawed at her bones and made her teeth chatter.

From time to time, Dalia would come and offer her bread, trying to coax her. But Sveta always turned away, refusing it.

“Better to beg the dowager.”

“……”

“Say the right words and she’ll forgive you. Won’t you?”

But forgiveness was meaningless.

This time, she would not save herself with lies.

She remembered all too well the day she had falsely confessed to stealing Beth’s jewels. She could still see the wild gleam in Jace Gould’s eyes.

“You filthy little thief!”

Admitting that she was a thief had sent Sveta’s soul hurtling into the abyss.

She would never endure such humiliation again.

Sveta steeled herself.

“How stubborn you are! You’ve never once been meek. It’s truly disappointing.”

“……”

“All that fuss over a single word. And now you’ve gone four days without eating?”

“……”

“I truly don’t understand you. I just don’t.”

Dahlia gathered up the food she had brought with her and left. After that, her foster mother never returned.

It was only the sound of familiar footsteps that kept Sveta’s fading consciousness tethered.

Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.

That steady rhythm could only belong to Aiden.

Light spilled in with the sound. Her eyes, accustomed to the dark, flinched at the brightness before slowly adjusting to reveal his figure.

He looked as though he had just arrived, his posture immaculate. The faint scent of the cold wind drifted from his long cloak.

“…Sveta.”

Her heart, which had tumbled countless times before, scrambled back into place rather foolishly. Once it had, it beat with vigour, as though her wounds were nothing at all.

“……”

As always, she had a lot she wanted to say, but she had no voice to carry it.

He spoke softly.

“You did well not to confess.”

‘Really?’

She longed to ask him. She wanted to hear him say that it had been worth holding on and that it truly had been the right thing to do. She wanted to hear him say, “I believed you,” in his own voice. You are not a filthy thief.’

“Open it.”

The knight behind him unlocked the cell and Aiden stepped inside. Without hesitating, he lifted Sveta into his arms.

“My lord…”

“……”

“…I—I didn’t steal it.”

Her voice was raspy, ragged and weak.

The faint scent of his warm, sweaty skin, softened by his familiar fragrance, filled her lungs like a balm.

Struggling against her heavy eyelids, she gazed up at the face she loved with desperate intensity.

His golden hair, disheveled for once, fell across his brow. Beneath the elegant shadow of his brow bone, her green eyes, clear as midsummer leaves, glinted.

He murmured gently, almost tenderly.

“You don’t look well. Save your strength.”

Holding her close, Aiden carried her straight to the West Wing, where his mother was waiting.