The wagon rolled into the bustling streets of New Portland just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the city in a warm, golden glow. Unlike the remote countryside they had left behind, New Portland was alive with activity. Market stalls lined the streets, and the sounds of merchants calling out their wares mingled with the chatter of townsfolk heading home for the evening.
Fenrir sat calmly in his wheelchair, taking in the sights with a detached interest. Beside him, Mary Ann—or the Lady of Sorrow inhabiting her body—remained silent. They were expected at the home of Lady Fourie, formerly Baroness Ann, Mary Ann's cousin by marriage.
As they approached the imposing manor at the heart of the city, Fenrir studied the structure. The stone walls were pristine, almost unnaturally so, and the gardens were meticulously maintained. It was the home of someone who cared deeply about appearances.
The doors swung open as they arrived, and Lady Fourie herself stepped forward to greet them. She was a striking woman with sharp features and an icy demeanor, though her smile was practiced and warm.
"Mary Ann," she said, her voice honeyed but hollow. "It's been far too long."
"And yet you don't seem pleased to see me," Mary Ann replied, her tone neutral but with an edge that Fenrir didn't miss.
Lady Fourie's smile faltered for the briefest moment before she turned her attention to Fenrir. "And this must be your… servant."
Fenrir inclined his head politely. "At your service, my lady."
Lady Fourie led them into the grand hall, the opulence of her home apparent in every detail. Gold accents lined the walls, and the air carried the faint scent of lavender. Servants moved silently through the space, their faces carefully blank.
"I trust your journey was uneventful," Lady Fourie said as they settled in the sitting room.
"Uneventful enough," Mary Ann replied, her gaze lingering on her cousin.
Fenrir said nothing, instead observing Lady Fourie closely. Though her words were welcoming, her body language betrayed her. The stiffness in her posture, the way her fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of her chair—these were not the actions of someone genuinely pleased to host family.
As the conversation continued, Fenrir's suspicions grew. Lady Fourie was hiding something, and it wasn't just her distaste for Mary Ann's presence.
"Now, don't be like that toward me, sister. Come inside and allow me a chance to serve you. I will show you what you were missing in that backward countryside," Lady Fourie welcomed the pair in her home.
______
Later that evening, as the household settled into an uneasy calm, Fenrir took the opportunity to explore. He didn't need to move far; the whispers of the servants were enough to reveal what he needed to know.
"They say she poisoned her husband," one voice murmured in the kitchen.
"Shh! Don't speak so loudly," another hissed. "If she hears you…"
"Everyone knows it," the first voice continued in a hushed tone. "He was perfectly healthy, and then he fell ill out of nowhere. And now she controls everything."
"And her cousins?"
The first voice paused. "They won't last long. You can see it in her eyes. She's already planning something. It's said that she already tried to get rid of her once"
Fenrir smirked to himself as he wheeled away from the shadows, the pieces falling into place. Lady Fourie was not just a woman of appearances; she was a dangerous one, someone who would stop at nothing to maintain her power.
Returning to his room, Fenrir found Mary Ann seated by the window, gazing out at the city below.
"She's planning something," Fenrir said without preamble.
Mary Ann didn't turn to face him. "Of course she is. Ann always was ambitious, even as a girl. But she's no match for us."
Fenrir raised an eyebrow. "Confidence is good, but overconfidence can be fatal. She's clever, and cleverness can be more dangerous than strength."
Mary Ann's expression didn't change, but her tone softened. "What do you suggest?"
Fenrir leaned back, his smile returning. "We let her play her game. Let her believe she has the upper hand. And when she strikes, we'll ensure she learns the cost of underestimating us."
The Lady of Sorrow laughed softly, a chilling sound that echoed in the quiet room. "This will be fun."
______
Meanwhile, the whispers of Lady Fourie's alleged crimes had begun to spread through the city. Though most townsfolk were too afraid to speak openly, the story of her husband's sudden death was well-known in certain circles. Some said he had been poisoned during dinner, others claimed she had hired an assassin to make it look like an accident.
Now, with Mary Ann and Fenrir under her roof, the rumors took on a new life.
"Did you hear? The countess and her servant are staying with Lady Fourie."
"They're doomed, then. No one leaves that house alive."
"She'll find a way to get rid of them, just like she did her husband."
As the first course was served, the maids moved with mechanical precision, their faces pale and tense. Each dish was placed carefully in front of the guests, their hands trembling slightly as they retreated.
The servants had worked tirelessly under Lady Fourie's strict instructions, preparing a meal unlike any other. Secret ingredients had been added to every course, subtle and undetectable to the casual diner.
The soup shimmered faintly, an otherworldly sheen betraying the curse woven into its broth. The roast duck was seasoned with rare herbs known to disrupt the soul's equilibrium. Even the wine, rich and dark, carried a faint bitterness that hinted at the malevolence hidden within.
The maids exchanged nervous glances as Fenrir and Mary Ann lifted their utensils. The maids shared a secret that no one else but their miustress knew about.
Fenrir tasted the soup first, dipping his spoon into the golden liquid. He took a slow sip, his expression calm and unreadable. Beside him, Mary Ann followed suit, her movements elegant and deliberate.
The maids held their breath, waiting for the inevitable reaction. Surely the cursed food would reveal itself. Surely the two would sense the danger.
But Fenrir only smiled faintly, setting his spoon down with measured grace. "Exquisite," he murmured.
Mary Ann nodded in agreement, her expression serene. "Your cooks are truly talented," she added, her voice carrying an otherworldly echo that made the servants shiver.
The maids exchanged panicked whispers as they moved to clear the first course.
"They didn't notice," one muttered.
"Impossible," another hissed. "They should have felt it. They should have…"
"They're doomed," the head maid interrupted sharply, her face pale. "Keep your voices down. If Lady Fourie hears you…"
As the second course was served, Lady Fourie leaned forward slightly, her gaze lingering on Fenrir. "I'm glad to see you enjoying the meal. It's not often I have the chance to entertain such... unique company."
Fenrir's smile widened, his expression one of polite interest. "You honor us with your efforts, my lady. It's clear you've spared no expense."
"Only the best for family," Lady Fourie replied smoothly.
Mary Ann's fork hovered over her plate for a moment before she delicately speared a piece of meat. "It's been so long since I've had a proper meal," she said, her tone wistful. "This truly is a rare treat."
If Lady Fourie was disconcerted by their composure, she didn't show it. But Fenrir noticed the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers curled ever so slightly around her wineglass.
As the dinner progressed, the maids continued to serve in silence, their fear mounting with every passing minute. Fenrir and Mary Ann displayed no signs of discomfort, no indication that they were affected by the cursed food.
"They're not human," one whispered as she retreated to the kitchen with empty utensils.
"Or they're stronger than we thought," another added, her voice trembling.
The head maid shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Lady Fourie always gets what she wants. If the food doesn't work…" She trailed off, unwilling to voice the grim possibilities.
As dessert was served, Fenrir leaned back slightly, his pale fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "This has been a most enlightening evening," he said, his voice soft but carrying an undertone of amusement.
Lady Fourie inclined her head, her smile returning. "I'm glad to hear that. I do hope you'll stay for some time. New Portland has so much to offer."
Fenrir's smile didn't waver, but his gaze sharpened, his voice dropping slightly as he replied. "I'm certain it does."
The unspoken tension between them hung heavy in the air, a subtle dance of power and deceit. Fenrir knew the game Lady Fourie was playing, and she was beginning to suspect that her guests were not as oblivious as they appeared.
A lot was said at the dinner table, but none of it mattered. Words were muttered until everyone went their separate way to rest for the night.