BOOK SEVEN
My breath hitches in my throat as I await her judgment.
"Hmph," Mistress Victoria sniffs with an air of disdain. As her expression remains unmoved, her cold, penetrating gaze continues to probe me, seeking a chink in my armor.
I tremble under Mistress Victoria's piercing gaze, feeling a chill that has nothing to do with the steaming cup of tea in her hand.
"You insolent little wench," she hisses, her voice a searing lash of anger. "How dare you think you could serve me anything but perfection?"
I gasp in shock, the cup trembling in my hands, my mind racing for an explanation, for a way to appease her wrath.
But it's too late.
Before I can utter a word, Mistress Victoria's face twists into a mask of fury, her lip curling in disgust. She hurls the scalding tea in my face, the hot liquid searing my skin, the pain of her betrayal burning deeper than the sting of the tea.
"Get out of my sight, you worthless fool!" she snarls, her voice sounding like a whip-crack in the air. "You are no longer fit to serve me."
✨
I stumble backward, my feet moving of their own accord, as tears of pain and humiliation blur my vision.
My breath comes in ragged gasps as I stumble out of Mistress Victoria's chambers, my face burning with pain and shame.
Furiously brooding over the day's events, I storm into the kitchen, my emotions a tempestuous whirlpool, ready to explode like a poorly timed alchemy experiment.
My eyes meet Mistress Hanna's, her face a tapestry of contempt and loathing. "I see Mistress Victoria wasn't pleased with your serving skills. Pitiful excuse for a slave," she snarls, her voice dripping with venom.
I quiver, my body shaking under the weight of her wrath. "I-I'm sorry, Mistress," I stammer, my voice weak and trembling.
Mistress Hanna takes a menacing step closer, her face twisted into a sneer. "Sorry? You call that sorry? You're an embarrassment to this castle, you blood-born filth," she spits, her voice laced with disgust.
With a sudden swiftness, she grabs my ear, yanking me towards her. The pain is sharp, sending a wave of anguish through my body.
"If you can't even serve a cup of tea, then perhaps you'll learn your place with a little time in the dungeons," she growls, her grip tightening on my ear.
My mind reels with horror, fear and anguish consuming me like a rampant fever. The thought of being thrown into the dungeons, a dark and forsaken place where screams echo and hope withers, fills me with an icy dread.
Mistress Hanna releases her grasp, pushing me away with a spiteful shove. "Guards, throw her into the dungeons!" she orders two guards, with a glint of sadistic delight in her eyes. "Maybe a month in the dark will teach you to be a better servant."
I stagger back, my head spinning, the weight of this punishment crushing my already fragile spirit.
Two strong men grip me roughly by my arms and drag me along to the dungeons, totally ignoring my pleas.
Like a fallen leaf swept away by a bitter wind, I stagger into a corner, my body aching, my heart heavy with despair. As I lay facedown on the cold, dusty floor, I shut my eyes tight, hiding from the harsh reality that threatens to break me.
The night stretches on, an endless expanse of torment and regret, haunted by the looming threat of the dungeons. In the dead of night, when the castle slumbers, I sit upright, my breath shallow and ragged.
The thought of spending a month in this dungeons consumes me, the darkness wrapping its icy fingers around my soul.