With an intense and menacing glare, Bailey's eyes seemed capable of devouring souls, leaving Maisy trembling in fear, unable to raise her head from her kneeling position.
"It's all my fault." Maisy sobbed, begging for mercy. "I, as a servant, failed to understand the protocol and unknowingly offended Her Highness. I implore Your Highness to forgive me."
"Very well, I shall grant you a chance," Bailey coldly replied. "Administer twenty slaps to your face, and your tongue shall be spared."
Uttering those words, Bailey fixed a piercing gaze upon Maisy and commanded, "Do it now!"
Without hesitation, Maisy swiftly began slapping herself with unyielding force, each blow resonating through the room. Her face reddened, yet she dared not cease.
Observing Maisy's submission, Bailey's anger gradually subsided, though the matter was far from resolved.
"Where is the maid? Where is she hiding?" Bailey demanded, her voice firm.
Unperturbed, Lyla leisurely stepped into the kitchen, her demeanor composed. "Your Highness, what brings you to this place?"
As Lyla entered, her gaze fell upon the kneeling figure of Maisy, self-punishing without pause. Perplexed, Lyla inquired, "What has befallen Maisy? Why is she inflicting this punishment upon herself?"
Fear-stricken, Maisy avoided eye contact with Bailey, unable to provide an answer.
Ignoring Maisy's presence, Bailey decisively grasped the knife and proceeded toward Lyla.
Before Lyla could react, she felt a tightening sensation on her scalp. In the blink of an eye, Bailey pressed her head firmly against the wooden board, a gleaming blade poised threateningly at her neck.
Trembling, Lyla's voice quivered as she attered, "Your... Your Highness, do you intend to commit a public execution?"
Dismissing Lyla's concern, Bailey's lips curled into a cold smile, her voice icy as a winter breeze. "Even if I were to end your life, what difference would it make?" she taunted. "You suddenly know fear now? Were you not audacious enough to mistreat my servant before?"
"Now that a blade is at your throat, you understand the meaning of submission."
"When have I ever subjected Meghan to mistreatment?"
In a display of dominance, Bailey delivered a swift and forceful kick to Lyla's leg, compelling her to kneel.
"Meghan merely wished to assist with the meal, but you obstructed her at every turn, forcing her to handle a fish brimming with thorns. This led to her poisoning, a life hanging by a thread. Is this not mistreatment? What kind of authority do you possess? Must i rely on your whims for sustenance?"
Lyla, having served as the mansion's maid for countless years, was emboldened by the favor bestowed upon her by Brenna.
Despite Bailey's knife-wielding approach, Lyla remained confident that the inexperienced queen consort would not dare to harm her. She raised her voice, issuing a veiled threat. "Your Highness, I stand by the side of the favored concubine. Should you dare to lay a finger on me, rest assured, the concubine will never grant you mercy."
"How amusing that even the mistress's lapdog dares to bark in my presence."
"Do not revel in your delusions. Everyone knows that the king reserves his deepest affection for the concubine. She is the true mistress of this domain. If you possess the capability, earn the king's favor for yourself, you insolent woman!"
A contemptuous smile played upon Bailey's lips. "Very well, dare to utter those words in my presence and then repeat them before the king and the concubine. Pray, do not alter your stance!"
Normally at this time, Rory should have been enjoying a meal with his beloved Brenna. Bailey abruptly seized Lyla by her hair, forcefully dragging her towards the courtyard of the concubines.
The palace guards stood in the doorway, obstructing Bailey's path. "Your Highness, His Majesty has given strict orders that you may not enter this courtyard without permission," one of them informed her.
Undeterred, Bailey retorted, "If I am forbidden from entering, then I shall take matters into my own hands. Today, I will deal with this wretched enslaved person, ending her existence with a single blade stroke!"
Lyla's desperate cries echoed through the air, akin to the distressing squeals of a slaughtered animal. "Mrs. Mack, save me! Your Majesty, save me!" she pleaded in sheer terror.
Blessed with exceptional martial training and acute hearing, Rory's furrowed brow displayed annoyance as he demanded, "Who dares to create such commotion outside?"
A voice explained, "It is the queen consort who has brought Lyla here. She claims that the king refused to see her, resulting in Lyla being promptly punished."
Startled by the unfolding events, Brenna hurriedly interceded, her voice trembling with urgency. "Your Majesty, Lyla has always been fair in her actions. The queen consort must have misunderstood something. I implore you to intervene and save her."
Irritated, Rory inquired, "What mischief has that woman caused now?"
Within a single day, she had managed to provoke numerous incidents!
"Allow them to enter," he commanded.
As Bailey stepped inside, she callously cast Lyla to the ground.
Lyla, now messy state, lay sprawled on the floor, resembling a needy beggar. Filled with seething anger, Rory questioned her with a sharp edge, "What is your intention? Why would you subject Lyla, the maid, to such humiliation?"
Bailey offered her explanation. Her voice was laced with justified anger. "Given her cruel treatment, it is only fair that I reciprocate. Earlier today, my maid, Meghan, went to the kitchen to request a hearty dish. However, Lyla maliciously forced Meghan to handle a thorny fish, resulting in her injuries and falling victim to fish poisoning.
"She now lies unconscious, her life hanging by a thread. Such a grievance cannot be endured."
Brenna's guilty conscience was exposed through her subtle gesture, causing her to lower her gaze.
Observing Brenna's nervous glance towards the fish soup on the table, Bailey sneered and remarked, "So, it is this very bowl of soup. Mrs. Mack, you are fortunate to savor such a nourishing concoction. But if you knew that life was sacrificed to obtain it, I wonder if you could still stomach it."
Swiftly, Brenna apologized, her voice filled with remorse, "Had I known Meghan prepared the fish, I would never have consumed it."
Rory stepped forward, shielding the concubine, and expressed his discontent. "If the maid has committed an offense, you may punish her accordingly. But what purpose does it serve to create a scene here?"
Bailey's gaze turned icy as she swept it over the kneeling figure on the ground. She remarked, "This wretched enslaved person boldly claims that the concubine lacks the authority to punish her. She even dares to compare her status as your beloved concubine to my insignificant position. Given these audacious statements, I dare not take any rash actions! Isn't that right, Brenna?"
Brenna Mack's heart skipped a beat, and she immediately adopted a pitiable tone as she pleaded, "Your Majesty, this matter has nothing to do with me. I would never dare to utter such disrespectful words to the queen consort!"
Bailey's cold laughter resonated. "Whether it has anything to do with vou or not, as long as you are aware. I do not wish to waste words with you. This individual harbors ill intentions, purposely portraying the palace as lacking hierarchy or discipline. Suppose this were to be heard by outsiders or even the former king himself. In that case, it might give rise to misconceptions of the king's favoritism towards consorts and my disregard for imperial authority."
Astonishingly, Bailey dared to threaten Rory openly, even invoking the former king.
Angered by Bailey's words, Brenna realized she could not plead for leniency for the maid.
Lyla glanced at Brenna, who remained silent for an extended period, and quickly crawled forward, clutching her throat as she made her case, "Your Majesty, it was I who overheard the queen consort claiming that the concubine's lowly status does not match your worthiness. I couldn't bear to hear such slander against the concubine! Otherwise, how could I, a mere servant, dare to defy hierarchy?"
"I have never mistreated Meghan. It was Meghan herself who volunteered to handle the fish. Could I possibly hold her hand and force her to undertake such tasks?"