The summer fever that had taken hold at the start of the season finally broke after two long weeks.
A few days later, Sveta woke up to find the bed beside her empty.
The duke was gone.
“It seems our lord will be away from the ducal residence for some time.”
It was only after Sir Pailin had informed her that Sveta had finally returned to her chamber that she realized.
Although she knew he was gone, she could not stop herself from looking towards his bedroom, hoping that he might still be there.
Noticing her wandering gaze, Madame Nora smiled gently and spoke softly.
“It’s always such a lovely color.”
Her hand moved gently through Sveta’s newly dyed, sunset-colored hair. Fortunately, she had managed to dye it again before the black roots became too visible.
“Thank you for helping me.”
“Oh, there’s no need to thank me! Lady Luce colors her hair every two weeks, too. For a noblewoman, dyeing her hair is as natural as putting on makeup. You don’t have to thank me every time, miss.”
Sveta thought of her foster mother, Dalia, and the vivid red hair she wore so boldly.
Like most people from Prisada, where dark hair was common, her natural color had been jet black. But a woman who adored extravagance as much as her foster mother could never have been content with such an ordinary shade.
When Dalia first took Sveta in, she shook her head at the sight of Sveta’s unevenly grown black hair, as if witnessing something tragic. From that day on, Sveta had regularly dyed it under her firm insistence.
Yet there was a reason she always chose the same color as Beth’s hair.
“Since we’re secret sisters, we have to live with the same hair color until the day we die.”
“Secret… sisters?”
“Yes, Sveta. I want you to become just like me. Like twins.”
It was the first time she had ever heard the word ‘sister’, and she had cherished it.
It was her promise to Beth, who had willingly accepted her as a sister despite her lowly status as a slave.
At the same time, it was her way of showing her love for Beth.
Seeing Sveta drift into the past with a sentimental expression, Madam Nora asked with concern.
“You look pale, miss. It’s been hard on you, hasn’t it?”
“I’m all right. But are you? Your face…”
Several long scars slashed across one of Madam Nora’s cheeks, shifting along with the corner of her mouth.
“Those are from when the knights shoved you last time, aren’t they? They look painful.”
“This much is nothing. When you work as a maid, all sorts of things happen.”
Madam Nora winked as though it were no great matter.
Carefully combing through Sveta’s hair, she finished by applying a fragrant oil.
“It’s not nothing. Please wait a moment.”
Sveta walked over to a side table and opened the small rosewood drawer. Her hands moved busily amongst the creams and medicine bottles inside.
She froze when she spotted the sharp-tipped lid of the vial that Lady Noma had given her.
She was overcome with a strange sense of having made a grave mistake. For some reason, a part of her felt uneasy.
“……”
“Miss?”
Upon hearing Madam Nora’s puzzled voice, Sveta hastily picked up a jar filled with lavender oil.
As though deliberately avoiding the pointed lid, she firmly shut the drawer and returned to the room.
“It’s an oil that removes scars.”
Dipping her fingers into the oil, Sveta gently rubbed it over Madam Nora’s hollow cheek.
“I’ll give this to you. Take it and apply it every day.”
“Miss, how could I possibly accept something so precious—”
“You are precious to me. So please, accept it.”
Madam Nora shook her head stubbornly.
“Even so, how could I—”
“Then think of it as payment for the oranges you’ve brought me—and the ones you’ll bring from now on.”
“Oh my, I wouldn’t be able to repay you even in a lifetime.”
“Then stay by my side until I die.”
With moist eyes, Madam Nora accepted the jar. Feeling proud of herself, Sveta let out a small laugh.
When the laughter had died down, she lowered her voice.
“But, Madam… have you ever seen a laundry maid with black hair?”
“I’m not sure. The laundry maids have all changed. And there’s more than one with black hair.”
Sveta tilted her head slightly, the hair gathered over one shoulder sliding down softly.
“What do you mean, changed?”
“There was a great deal of dismissing and hiring starting two months ago. After that incident.”
“That incident?”
“You didn’t know? I’m not sure I should even say this…”
After hesitating for a long moment, Madam Nora spoke carefully.
“It was the case of a maid named Mary. She was murdered in a terrible way.”
A chill broke out over Sveta’s skin, scraping along the edges of her cheeks. She covered her face with both hands.
“…Mary is dead?”
Madam Nora raised her index finger and traced half of a long oval shape in the air.
“Yes. I heard there was a knife wound on her stomach, shaped like this.”
“……”
She had once wished for Mary to be punished.
But this was far too cruel.
That long, curved wound, like a blade drawn in a slow, merciless arc…
The memory surfaced without warning.
It had happened in Zloytan.
Jace Gould had forced the young Beth and Sveta to witness executions. The victims were often runaway slaves who had been recaptured or prisoners in chains. It was both a warning and a threat: “If you run, this is how you will end up. If you run, this is how you will die.”
She remembered the air in that moment, the thick, metallic scent as their bodies were cut down. The final, hollow sob just before the blade struck. The eyes, clouded with tears, flickered once before fading into darkness.
Those memories rose vividly to the surface of her mind.
Sveta wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as though trying to hold her body together. Her chin trembled with small, uncontrollable shivers.
“Oh dear, I must have frightened you with such a terrible story, miss. My mouth should know better. I’ve made a mistake.”
“……”
“It’s all in the past. Truly, it’s over. They’ll catch the culprit soon enough.”
Madam Nora slowly stroked Sveta’s slender back. Her hand was warm.
Yet a strange warmth churned in her stomach. Being comforted felt strangely unfamiliar.
After a moment’s hesitation, Sveta leaned against her.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Madam Nora gently patted her shoulder with her roughened hand.
Studying her expression, Madam Nora carefully changed the subject.
“But why were you asking about a black-haired maid?”
Having barely gathered her emotions, Sveta offered a deliberately vague answer.
“She’s been tidying the bedroom. I wanted to thank her.”
“Hmm…”
As though something had just occurred to her, Madam Nora glanced toward the corner of the ceiling.
“Now that I think of it, the maid who runs Lady Noma’s errands also has black hair. She looks newly hired—perhaps she used to work in the laundry…”
“Why would a laundry maid run Lady Noma’s errands?”
Madam Nora lowered her voice again.
“When you were ill… His Grace was furious. The knights and maids who dragged us away that day were dismissed in disgrace. Even the servants in the west wing were replaced…”
“……”
“Lady Noma was confined to the west wing.”
“So that happened.”
Aiden had never shown it to her before. She hadn’t known.
She realized that he had probably not felt the need to tell her.
After all, who would bother explaining such matters to a mere mistress?
Despite spending nights together, there were some things that would never blend.
He was the noble Duke of Strilland.
She was a barbarian slave, dressed as a lady, and the daughter of a beggar.
Sveta knew her place well.
Seeing her expression darken, Madam Nora continued to stroke her shoulder.
“So Lady Noma has been using a laundry maid for personal errands.”
“……”
“Lady Luce stays by Lady Noma’s side, doesn’t she? Since I attend Lady Luce, I naturally hear and see a few things.”
“I see.”
“I’ve been foolish, speaking only of grim matters in front of someone still recovering.”
Sveta burrowed into her embrace.
“No. If not for you, I would know nothing at all. No one speaks to me…”
“You have me. If I learn anything else, I’ll tell you.”
Her nose stung faintly. Sveta pressed her cheek deeper into Madam Nora’s shoulder.
***
Several days passed.
While strolling through the garden, Sveta made her way towards the stables. Today, she intended to pass by the laundry under the pretense of walking a horse.
The moment she entered, the stablehand bowed deeply and hurried out.
The days when they had exchanged light conversation felt impossibly distant.
“Do not idle about with the servants.”
“It is a rule you must observe from now on.”
It had felt unfair, but there was nothing she could do. The duke never went back on his word. Now, the only person she spoke to was Madam Nora, and even then only occasionally.
‘I wish I could see her every day.’
Madam Nora could not visit often either, always mindful of her foster mother’s watchful eye. Even brief meetings were hard to come by.
“You missed me, didn’t you, Dongle?”
In order to stop herself from being overwhelmed by loneliness, Sveta tightened her grip on the reins and forced herself to keep walking.
When she reached the beautifully landscaped artificial lake, she paused, feeling uncertain.
She lingered beside the thick cluster of sunflowers, watching the sunlight shimmer and ripple across the water.
Sir Pailin must be somewhere nearby, she thought, following her from a distance. That was why she had spent the past few days exploring every corner of the ducal estate.
So she could make her way to the laundry without arousing suspicion.
After allowing enough time to pass, she crossed the garden and arrived at the back courtyard of the laundry.
Endless rows of white bedding hung in precise order, swaying gently in the open air as if reflecting the duke’s meticulous nature.
Then a strong gust of wind swept through.
Dongle caught its scent and gave a restless snort, as though eager to break into a run. Stroking the horse’s neck to calm it, she murmured softly.
“Good boy, Dongle. Later—later you can run as much as you want. We’ll go to the mountains, and to the sea. All right?”
The crisp scent of detergent wafted through the air as the sheets fluttered and billowed in the breeze. Her long, sunset-colored hair whipped wildly in the wind.
Nearby, the broad leaves of the plane trees rustled and trembled, producing a cool whispering sound.
Swaaah. Swaaah.
The sound seemed to brush against her chest, causing her heart to beat quietly in rhythm with it.
As she gathered the strands of hair obscuring her vision and tucked them behind her ear, she caught a glimpse of black hair glinting between the swaying white sheets.
Brushing past the hanging laundry, Sveta stepped forward as though under a spell.
One step. Then another.
The white cloth shifted and swayed around her, and everything in sight was blindingly pale.
In the midst of it all, the only vivid thing — achingly vivid — was the face she had longed to see.
When their eyes met, Beth’s eyes curved gently into a smile.
“Hello, Sveta.”
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Danes96
Sigue sin gustarme Beth, solo es una manipuladora. Disfrazó todas sus acciones para hacerle creer a Sveta que la quería como una hermana.
Además, si Sveta tiene una nueva vida y no carece ni es maltratada, no hay ninguna necesidad de ir por ella. Solo la pone en peligro Beth, ella no quiere que sea feliz cuando ella ahora es fugitiva y ha perdido todo