Maurice looked and sounded like he’d been genuinely worried. The others looked worried, but they kept a healthy distance from her. A wave of awkwardness filled her as she realized the last time they’d likely seen her, they’d been running from her screaming.
Max wasn’t worried, because he knew they now feared her.
Except Maurice. She didn’t remember seeing him as they all ran from her that night, screaming in fear. But he had to haveknown it was Sin. Even if not at the time, by the looks on everyone else’s faces, there was no way they didn’t know.
A light tugging in her chest, and when she peered back over her shoulder, Max was gone.
* * *
Sin was given no time to take everything in as she followed the others. They led her through their quarters, showing her everything she needed to know. The corridors were narrow, with faded, dusty tapestries lining the walls. The scent of baked bread wafted through the air, mixing with the laughter of tired but cheerful workers.
“This is where we bathe,” Jocelyn said, one of the castle servants, her lips curling in a sneer as she pointed towards the shared baths. “Not much privacy, but we manage.” Sin could tell Jocelyn didn’t like her, but the woman held her tongue, her disdain clear without words.
Sin looked at the bathing chambers, and it made her uncomfortable. The lack of personal space, but she knew she’d have to adjust. It’s not like at least one person here didn’t see her getting her ass eaten by the prince at the ball.
They moved on to the dining area, a cramped hall with long wooden tables. The air was thick with the stale scent of bread and roasted vegetables from the previous feast. Her stomach growled, but she remained quiet, watching as the others move at ease within the space.
“You’ll fit right in,” a warm voice sounded. Chloe, one of the older servant’s here she’d just met. She gave Sin an appraising look as she continued. “We switch off serving the royals and eating here first.”
Sin nodded, taking it all in. The work was familiar, but everything felt more intense and demanding here, yet purposeful. It was different from the chaos that was Vivienne’s chore list.
By nightfall, Sin was exhausted. She collapsed onto the small bed assigned to her, her body aching still from fatigue, and what she assumed was the fallout from the horrible night. The quarter’s were cramped, each bed space close to the next with barely any in between. She pulled the thin blanket over herself, her eyelids growing heavy as she listened to the quiet murmurs of the others around her.
Perhaps the mattress was thinner, less cozy than the prince’s feather bed, with its silken sheets and soft pillows. But it beat her old torturous bed by miles. It was another motivator to learn with Magnolia rather than sleep.
Sin’s muscles tensed, reminded of nights spent on cold stone floors whenever Vivienne’s anger struck, how Sin could sleep in far worse conditions. She rubbed her wrists absentmindedly, phantom pains lingering from shackles that were no longer there.
As she drifted off, a new sound reached her.
Soft moans.
Her eyes snapped open, irritation prickling at her temples. She turned her head slightly, her gaze landing on two figures tangled together on a bed across the room. It took her a moment to process what she was seeing, but the quiet gasps and sounds of snapping hips left no room for misinterpretation.
It was Maurice. With Chloe.
Sin blinked, her face heating despite herself. The audacity of it. The slight worry that a male of his age shouldn’t be moving so fast like that, lest he injure himself.
Sin glanced around, expecting someone to react, but the other servants carried on as if nothing was happening.Conversations of those still away continued in low murmurs, most drifting into sleep, entirely unbothered by the noises cutting through the otherwise quiet room.
Sin huffed and yanked the blanket over her head, squeezing her eyes shut and turning her face to the wall. Though she supposed she was a little happy for Maurice, sleep wasn’t going to come easily tonight, not with this circus going on. What kind of culture normalized this sort of behavior in a shared room? This was her bedroom, supposed sanctuary, not the ball where indulgence was expected.
She fidgeted, tugging the blanket tighter around herself. It didn’t matter how comfortable they were—shewasn’t. And this was her new reality, like it or not.
Max
The scent of salt and stale ale clung to the dim tavern as Max entered, thirty minutes early, knowing Wolcott would already be waiting. Their unspoken rule.
Max does the same thing he always does when paying him a visit.
He orders a room, has a drink in solitude, smiling at those who recognize him and have the courage to smile or wave. The boards beneath Max’s boots creaked with each step as he made his way up the stairs, past the level of rooms they rented by the night, and onto the third floor. Wolcott’s residence.
The muted hum of voices below was now a muffled backdrop. As Wolcott activated the sound barrier on his private balcony, a sudden silence descended, heavy, as though they’d stepped out of time.
Wolcott had been everything to Max. An enemy. A friend. A lover. And through each dynamic, Max knew Wolcott would always be someone he could trust, someone who also wanted what was best for the realm, the witches, and to end the tyranny of ancient kings. That included Max’s father.
Wolcott withdrew a vial from his coat, pouring an unknown substance into two mugs of ale before sliding one across the small table. “Ready to meet her?”
Her.
