Maven's words cut through her thoughts. "You must obey the master without hesitation. Don't give in to despair. That's what they want. If you surrender to hopelessness, you'll have already lost. Keep hope alive in your heart, and you'll survive. Remember, they may be powerful, but you have the power to defy them."
Gwendolyn swallowed hard, fighting back tears.
"My time here is up. I must leave before another servant arrives to take over," Maven whispered urgently, glancing around with nervousness.
"Will we see each other again?" Gwendolyn asked hopefully.
"Perhaps," Maven replied with a soft smile. "Listen, if fate has brought us together like this, perhaps there is a reason."
She hesitated briefly, then continued, "Fate is fickle and has its own plan. If the stars align, we may meet again, and then I will tell you my story."
"Thank you, Maven," Gwendolyn said. Her throat tightened, and her heart fluttered in her chest.
Maven grabbed her arm, staring at her intently as she spoke softly, "And remember, tell no one why you are really here. Do you understand?"
"Yes, of course," Gwendolyn said, trying not to wince as the servant's nails dig into her skin.
"Promise me," she said, giving her a small shake.
"I promise!"
Gwendolyn hesitated, as if the woman wasn't sure she can trust her. Or perhaps she was doubting the whole idea. She wondered what would happen to her if the lady or Lord Zoltar found out about her. Would they kill her?
The woman sighed and released her grip, turning to walk away and leaving her alone in the small, dark room. The silence was deafening, and her fears threatened to overwhelm her.
Gwendolyn was left with more questions than answers, but at least she had some hope. Maybe she could survive this after all.
She could hear Maven's fading footsteps echoing in the distance. It was impossible for her to ignore the question of what lay ahead of her and her future.
Filled with doubts, her heart wavered between hope and fear. Could she escape the cruel fate that awaited her? Was there a way to escape from the clutches of Lord Zoltar and return to her old life?
With no answers and little hope, Gwendolyn took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. She had no choice but to trust in Maven and her fate.
She looked into the mirror, but the reflection staring back at her was no longer herself. The beauty she once knew had faded in just a few days since her abduction. Now, she saw a woman who resembled a ghost, pale and hollow-eyed, a stark contrast to the vibrant young royal she had been.
The transformation was terrifying, and she feared that it was only a small taste of what was to come. Her body trembled with fear and she closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing.
Suddenly, she heard the creaking of the door. She stiffened, her pulse pounding in panic.
"Come!" a gruff male voice suddenly snapped.
Gwendolyn's body seized, a shudder of terror running through her.
A man was standing in the doorway, dressed in black, his features obscured by the dim light. She couldn't tell who he was or what he wanted, but she knew it wasn't good.
She didn't move, rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear.
The man grunted impatiently and strode towards her, grabbing her roughly by the arm.
"Move," he snarled, pushing her towards the door.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice trembling.
The man didn't reply, shoving her down the hallway.
She could feel his anger and hatred radiating from him. She knew that he wouldn't hesitate to hurt her if she tried to resist.
They walked through the mansion, the corridors seemingly endless, as they passed several doors. Each one was closed, and Gwendolyn wondered what lay behind them.
The man stopped abruptly in front of a large, ornate door. He opened it and shoved her inside.
"Stay here until the lady comes," he ordered, then slammed the door shut.
She was alone, trapped in a dark, windowless room. Her heart raced, and she struggled to control her breathing.
The room was cold and empty, save for a small table and chair in the center. There was no sign of Lord Zoltar or Lady Rosamund, and Gwendolyn didn't know how long she was forced to wait.
Time seemed to stand still, and the silence was deafening. Gwendolyn could feel the darkness closing in around her, suffocating her.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and two servants walked into the room, followed by Lady Rosamund of Saebeorht.
The two servants were carrying a chair and a small table. They placed the table and chair in front of Gwendolyn. The table had a silver tray with a bowl of water and a washcloth.
Lady Rosamund sat in the chair and leaned back, her arms crossed. She glared at Gwendolyn, her eyes filled with hatred and contempt.
"Clean yourself up," the lady ordered.
Gwendolyn was taken aback by the woman's cold-bloodedness and harshness. She was chilled to the bone by her cruel and maliciously twisted features, despite her beauty.
"Did you hear me, slave?" the lady snapped, her eyes narrowing. "Do as I command!"
Gwendolyn quickly dipped the cloth into the water and began to wipe her face and arms, puzzled by the lady's strange instructions. She had already been cleansed and dressed properly, so she wondered why the lady insisted on this additional task.
"Look at you," the lady sneered. "Filthy and disgusting. Everyone here knows the rule: none shall appear before me in such a filthy and disgusting state. You must always be presentable in my presence, or you will face the consequences."
Gwendolyn remained silent, avoiding the woman's piercing gaze.
The words cut deep, but Gwendolyn refused to let the lady see how much they affected her. She had already been stripped of her dignity and her freedom. She wouldn't let the lady take anything else from her.
"Look at me when I'm speaking to you, slave!" the lady shouted.
Gwendolyn slowly raised her head, meeting the lady's eyes.