Spilled Tea, Broken Chains

FREYA’S POV

“Good day, Mother,” I greeted, giving a low, subtle nod.

The breeze twirled with a cool fragrance etched with fresh lavender and lilies.

Lifting my head, my gaze connected with Lady Maeve—Killian’s mother.

The woman who made my life a living hell.

Unfortunately, this Freya won’t be bending her knees to bullies.

Lady Maeve didn’t look up from the teacup she was holding. “You’re here.”

Her head tilted as she circled the edge of her cup. Skin pale like snow, her hair was swept up in a stylish braid, tucked neatly with no loose strands—her signature hairstyle.

Her dress snatched at the waist, flowing over her knees.

“You, didn’t I ask you to bring her here quickly?” Lady Maeve snapped at Tessa.

I pinched my side, forcing a smile. “ Mother don’t blame Tessa. It was my fault.”

“Freya, don’t you think you’re giving this servant too much credit?”

It was Vivian.

Darting my eyes, I noticed she was no longer wearing the leather jacket and was now dressed in a peach gown, legs crossed as she leaned closer to Lady Maeve.

“Servants are made for one purpose—to serve.” Vivian motioned her chin toward Tessa.

Tessa instinctively shifted closer to me. I frowned.

“You shouldn’t baby them. Discipline is needed when they make mistakes.” She grinned.

I forced a smile.

From the Alpha’s quarters to the Matriarch’s hall was a three to six minute walk. I barely spent four, and they were already throwing a tantrum.

They just wanted to remind me of my place—beneath their feet.

“Beta Vivian, my servant is mine to discipline. You don’t have a say.” I let her demeanor crumble under the weight of my words before I continued. “Besides, you are just a guest. Household affairs are none of your concern.”

Smack!

The table vibrated under Vivian’s fist. Teacups rattled, liquid spilling as spoons clattered.

Tessa flinched. I kept my posture straight.

“Beta Vivian, mind your manners. You wouldn’t want to ruin Mother’s appetite.”

Vivian’s chest rose sharply, her mouth parting as a growl escaped her, canines flashing.

“How dare—”

Clink!

Lady Maeve placed her cup sharply on the table. “Enough.”

I bit back a smile, lowering my head slightly. Vivian huffed, crossing her arms against the chair, pressing her leg back.

Lady Maeve’s face showed no emotion as she turned to me. “Freya, are you saying I’m wrongly accusing your maid?”

“No Mother, I’m just saying I’m the one at fault, not Tessa.”

Lady Maeve’s eyes squinted, as if trying to figure out what had changed. I wasn’t begging or trying to curry favor like I used to.

What an obedient little pup I had been—licking at their heels while they stepped on me without care.

I even tried to please Vivian, wanting to be friends because of Killian, hoping to fix our relationship.

Who would have known it would blow up in my face?

“Sit,” Lady Maeve gestured to the seat beside her.

If looks could kill, I would have been sliced in half.

Lady Maeve beckoned toward a servant few paces away.

“Freya dear, your skin. I don’t remember it looking so flawless.”

I froze.

The blemishes were gone. Nothing ever slipped past Lady Maeve’s hawk-like eyes.

All the servants were under her command—another reason I needed to be careful.

Before I could answer, Vivian chimed in. “Mom, you know she’s been brewing those disgusting remedies for her skin. I guess it’s starting to pay off.”

Vivian sighed, twisting a strand of her hair. “Not that it made her look any less hideous.”

Lady Maeve smiled, patting Vivian’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t say things like that, my dear. Others might get the wrong idea.”

As if she cared what anyone thought about me.

Lady Maeve’s servant came beside me, intentionally brushing against my knee.

My body jerked forward as I shot her a glare.

I recognized her instantly. It was the head of the servants—Madam Grace.

“Oh my Luna, did I hit you? I’m sorry.”

Her smile nudged something unpleasant in my chest.

The devilish trio was complete—Lady Maeve, Vivian, and her.

Madam Grace was Lady Maeve’s right hand, the woman who carried out her orders.

Few months in marriage, Madam Grace was appointed to my side. She changed my diet, chose my clothes, forced me to drink disgusting concoctions when I refused.

All of it was to bear Killian’s heir, and I endured the most humiliating experiences imaginable.

My hands trembled as I clutched my dress, trying to remain calm.

“Grace, please fill the cups,” Lady Maeve said coolly.

Madam Grace nodded, crouching beside me. She took the jug and began filling the cup in front of me.

Lady Maeve’s voice turned suspiciously sweet. “Drink up.”

As my hand reached for the cup, hot liquid poured—burning my skin.

The pain made me jolt before I froze.

Madam Grace grinned down at me, acting oblivious. Lady Maeve and Vivian tried to hide their chuckles.

I smiled. I didn’t think such an opportunity would present itself so soon.

But who was I to reject heaven’s will?

As Madam Grace tried to turn away, I called out. “Madam Grace.”

Everyone’s attention snapped to me. Servants in the corners lifted their brows.

Madam Grace beamed. “Luna, is there a problem?”

I raised my hand, red and flushed, tea still dripping from my skin. “Are you tired of living?”

An awfully chilly silence sliced through the air.

The smile on Madam Grace’s face faltered. The jug trembled in her grip. “Wh… what do you mean?”

I curled my lips, assessing the skin pulsing with pain. “You spilled tea on me,” I said coldly, tilting my head as I extended my hand. “Apologize.”

In that moment, a strange familiar energy circled my chest.

I smirked.

In this life, I’ve learned that respect isn’t just earned—it’s commanded.

And those who refuse to bend the knee will pay the price.