As soon as the communication broke off, Evelyn grew more restless. Her whole body trembled with weakness, the seal restricting her powers making her feel more helpless than ever. She wanted desperately to use her teleportation spell to reach Isolde and bring her back, but fear of endangering her daughter held her back. As she was about to attempt another communication with Isolde, the room door swung open. Amelia stood there with two unfamiliar maids, casting a disdainful glance at Evelyn.
"The great duchess lazing around in bed all day long. What a sad sight to watch," one of the maids snickered.
"Lady Amelia should have been the real Duchess," another remarked.
"Enough, grab her and wash her up. Her body odor is making me faint," Amelia ordered, her tone indifferent.
Evelyn, her eyes flashing with anger, demanded, "Who are these people?"
"Your new maids," Amelia replied, uninterested.
"What happened to the last maids?" Evelyn asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.
"None of your business," one of the new maids snapped.
A stern voice cut through the tension, demanding an answer. "Even I want to know what happened to the last maids."
Amelia turned around, her whole body trembling in fear as she saw the Duke of Sable standing behind them. She bowed deeply, her voice faltering, "T-They were not doing their work properly."
"So, the maids that I handpicked and chose personally were not doing their work properly?" The Duke's voice was a low growl. "I want them back in this room within an hour."
Amelia could only nod in fear. "Now, leave. I want to spend some time with my wife," he commanded, walking past them.
As the maids and Amelia hurried out, Evelyn glared at the Duke, her eyes filling with tears. "What are you doing here after killing my daughter?"
The Duke's expression remained cold. "Take care of your body. My seed is growing in your womb," he replied, his tone devoid of any warmth. He sat beside her, wetting a towel in the water kept beside her bed and started wiping her arm. Evelyn, too weak to resist, could only watch him having his way.
"I don't understand you," Evelyn said, her voice trembling. "You say you want me to take care of myself, yet you bring in maids who mock me and treat me like a prisoner."
The Duke paused, his gaze meeting hers. "You must understand, Evelyn. Everything I do, I do for the future of our family."
Evelyn's eyes burned with a mix of anger and sorrow. "By imprisoning and tormenting me? By destroying our daughter's life?"
"Isolde is not dead," the Duke said, his voice softening for the first time. "She is very much alive. But there are forces at play that you cannot comprehend. Forces that threaten to destroy everything we have built."
Evelyn pretends to be surprised by the revelation. "What do you mean? Where is she?"
The Duke sighed, placing the towel back in the water. "She is in danger, but she is also our only hope. Trust me, Evelyn. As long as you follow my lead, we will all survive this."
Evelyn felt a flicker of hope but quickly buried it under her distrust. "How can I trust you after everything you've done?"
"Because you have no choice," he replied, his tone firm. "For now, rest. Your strength is crucial for what lies ahead."
With that, the Duke stood and left the room, leaving Evelyn alone with her thoughts and fears. She lay back, feeling a mix of helplessness and determination. She knew she had to gather her strength, not just for herself but for Isolde. Whatever the Duke's true intentions were, Evelyn vowed to protect her daughter at any cost.
An hour later, Amelia returned with the old maids. To her surprise, Evelyn looked much healthier and more graceful than she had just an hour ago. She frowned at the sudden change. Evelyn, who was standing in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection, walked steadily up to Amelia and slapped her hard across the face.
"Have you gone mad?!" Amelia screamed, trying to grab Evelyn but was pushed away.
"How dare you raise your voice at the Duchess?" Evelyn spoke with authority. "Only the Duke has the authority to raise his voice at the Duchess. No one else can disrespect me." Her tone was icy and commanding.
Amelia, who had always seen Evelyn as a weakling, was taken aback by her changed manner. "W-Why did you s-slapped me?" she stammered.
"How dare you enter the Duchess's room without knocking and keep your head held high? I can behead you for your crime!" Evelyn said boldly.
"I-I am sorry…. D-duchess…." Amelia gritted her teeth.
"Go and prepare clothes for me," Evelyn ordered.
Amelia looked at the maids. "Go."
"I am talking to you," Evelyn glared at Amelia.
"I… I am sorry," she hesitated, then went to prepare clothes for Evelyn. Evelyn watched Amelia quietly, observing her every move as she hurriedly prepared an outfit.
"Your choice… was it always this bad?" Evelyn asked sarcastically, "or are you trying to make me disappear?"
Amelia got flustered at Evelyn's words. "W-What do you mean?!"
"My hair color is brown, yet you have chosen such dull colors instead of bright ones." Evelyn looked at one of the maids. "Prepare my clothes and dress me up."
The maid bowed and carried out the orders.
"Useless," Evelyn said, looking down on Amelia. "Go and prepare my tea. I want to have tea time in the garden."
"But Duchess, your health is not in good shape, and the Duke ordered you to stay in your room," Amelia protested.
"The Duke is my husband, and I know how to make him listen to me. You don't need to worry about my matters." Evelyn smiled and patted Amelia's cheek condescendingly.
Amelia, seething inside but unable to express her frustration, nodded and left the room to carry out the orders. Evelyn watched her go, feeling a surge of strength and determination. She would not let herself be treated as a weakling any longer. She had to be strong for herself and for Isolde. Evelyn knew that she
Needed to reclaim her power and position, not just in name but in action.
As the old maids dressed her, Evelyn's mind raced with thoughts of how to leverage her new-found strength and the Duke's precarious balance of power to protect Isolde. She glanced at the garden through her window, imagining the tranquility of her tea time and the plans she could forge during those precious moments of solitude.
To be continued....