Chapter 5: A Dreadful Knock at the Door

"Where's what, ma'am?"

"Is your head full of bricks?" Celene sneered. "Where's the thing I asked you to get for me? I don't see it on you." She eyed me from head to toe like I was dressed in shit.

"Can't this wait?" My father protested. He sat silently at the far end of the table, his face drawn, his shoulders heavy.

"Why wait, honey?" She smiled at him. "I'm only asking if she did the errand I'd asked her to do. Is that so bad?" She asked, eating her soup. "So?" She raised a brow at me.

"The cloak isn't ready yet, so I've returned empty-handed . . . ma'am."

"Oh, I see," she twirled her spoon in the air. "How sad," she jested, letting out a small laugh.

I glanced at my father, hoping for even the smallest sign of defense, but his gaze stayed fixed on his plate.

I waited a bit, the clanking of utensils filling the air, and then finally said, "May I leave?"

“Tomorrow, you’ll scrub the floors, polish the silver, and tend to the garden.” Celene leaned back, one perfectly manicured hand resting on her goblet. “And I want you to collect radishes from the market tonight.”

My head snapped up before I could stop myself. “But the market’s already closed.” Celene’s expression didn’t falter. “Not my problem,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Figure it out.”

'Sick vulture-looking snake!' I tightened my fist to subdue my rage. I opened my mouth to protest, but the warning look in my father’s eyes stopped me cold.

Of course, he wouldn’t help—not in front of Celene. Her family’s wealth had grown his struggling business into what it was today, and he wouldn’t risk losing that for me.

I bit back the words threatening to spill out, my nails digging into my palms as I forced myself to nod. The tension in the room was suffocating.

Just then, a knock at the door broke the silence. I turned to leave, but Celene’s voice stopped me. “Don’t go yet.” I halted, my heart racing.

'Could it be . . .?' I shivered as memories of Elaine’s death flooded my mind.

One of the servants answered the door, and moments later returned with grim news.

“There’s been an incident, ma’am,” the servant said, her voice trembling. “Elaine, the timber merchant’s daughter . . . she was killed tonight. A werewolf attack.”

Gasps rippled through the room.

Celene’s face twisted, first with horror and then fury. “Where?”

“In the woods,” the servant replied. “Near the seamstress’s cottage.”

The words hit me like a hammer. My breath caught as Celene’s gaze snapped to me, her eyes filled with suspicion and something darker.

“You were there, weren’t you?” she hissed.

“I—” My voice faltered.

“It was said that Jade was the only one present at the time, ma’am,” the servant added hesitantly. “She was the only witness.”

Celene’s fury boiled over. “You were the only one there!” Her voice rose, each word sharper than the last. “And look at her—there’s blood on her clothes!” She pointed, her wild accusation cutting through me. “First, you curse her with your presence, and now she’s dead!”

Her words felt like stones hurled at my chest, each one lodging deeper than the last. I couldn’t argue. The faint bloodstains on my tunic felt like a valid confession.

“Out of my sight!” Celene snarled, slamming her hand on the table. “Now!”

My father’s gaze still remained fixed on his plate, but his hand tightened around his goblet, the faint tremor betraying his guilt. A pang of bitter disappointment settled in my chest, but I pushed it down, the beast stirring faintly, only to be silenced by the ring’s warmth.

I fled, tears stinging my eyes.