4. Replaced as a Daughter

Elowen’s POV

By morning, I had already memorized the new routine. Mother took her first medicine after breakfast. 

The second came three hours later. She wasn't supposed to drink coffee because it worsened her headaches, and she needed to eat before taking the tablets that irritated her stomach.

I knew all of it. I had known about it for years. So I went to her room expecting to help at least. 

The door was already open when I got there. 

Seraphine sat beside Mother's bed with a tray on her lap.

“Mother, you need to finish this,” she said gently. “The doctor said you shouldn't skip breakfast.”

Isolde smiled at her, “I know, darling.”

The doctor stood near the window, checking the medication chart.

“Has she experienced any dizziness this morning?”

Seraphine answered immediately, “Only briefly after waking up.”

“And the headaches?”

“Less severe than yesterday.”

The nurse nodded and wrote something down. I remained at the doorway.

Nobody noticed me. The doctor closed the chart.

“She needs rest. No unnecessary stress before the royal delegation arrives.”

“I'll make sure she rests,” Seraphine promised.

Mother reached for her hand, “I don't know what I'd do without you.”

Seraphine smiled, “You don't have to worry about anything.”

Something inside my chest pulled tight. I looked at the medicine bottles on the table.

Seraphine had arranged them correctly. She knew which one came first. She knew what Mother could eat. She knew what to watch for.

I had come home prepared to be useful. Apparently, I was super late. I quietly stepped backward.

Caelan noticed me as I turned.

“Elowen.”

Everyone looked toward the door. Mother's expression softened slightly.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Mother.”

Caelan glanced between us.

“You came to check on her?”

“Yes.”

Seraphine immediately stood, “You can stay. I was just about to go downstairs.”

She smiled at me, “You should spend some time with her.”

I shook my head, “But you’re already taking care of her.”

“That doesn't mean you can't.”

“It does for me.”

Caelan frowned, “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

I turned and left. I didn't wait for anyone to follow. Downstairs, the estate was already moving at twice its usual pace. The Lycan King's arrival had transformed the household.

Servants carried flowers through the halls. Guards inspected the entrance repeatedly. Tables were being arranged for the formal dinner. I stayed out of everyone's way.

Until a young servant shoved a silver tray into my hands, “Take these to the east hall.”

I looked down at the tray. Glasses. A bottle of wine. Small plates of fruit.

“Where?”

“The east hall.”

She was already walking away. I followed.  Nobody stopped me.

After delivering the tray, another servant pointed toward a stack of folded napkins.

“Those need to go upstairs.”

I carried them. Then someone asked me to take a message to the kitchen.

I did. It was easier than explaining who I was. Easier than hearing someone say my name and remembering what it used to mean. 

By midday, my hands smelled faintly of polish and herbs from the kitchen. I was carrying another tray when a voice stopped me.

“So this is your new strategy?”

I turned. It was Draven Korr. He stood at the end of the corridor. He was dressed in dark clothes, his expression hard enough to make the servants nearby lower their eyes.

I had seen him before. During the trial. Outside the courtroom. He had never looked at me like a person.

He looked at me now the same way. I adjusted my grip on the tray.

“What strategy?”

His mouth twisted, “Don't play innocent.”

“I wasn't.”

He walked closer, “So you spent two years in prison, came home, and suddenly decided to serve everyone?”

“I was asked to carry a tray.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

I stared at him, “I don't care what you believe.”

His eyes narrowed, “There it is.”

“What?”

“That attitude.”

I said nothing. He stepped closer.

“You've always been good at this. Acting wounded whenever someone holds you accountable.”

“You think everyone is stupid?”

“No.”

“You've been home for less than a day and already you're making yourself look pathetic. Carrying trays. Keeping your head down. Refusing to defend yourself.”

“I don't need to defend myself to you.”

Draven stared at me for several seconds before his expression hardened.

“You really haven't changed.”

I said nothing.

“You spent two years in prison, and somehow you still think you're the one who was wronged.”

My fingers tightened around the tray.

“I didn't say that.”

“You don't have to.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping, “Look at you. Walking around with that pathetic expression, carrying trays like some abandoned servant.”

My throat tightened, “Stop.”

He ignored me, “You want everyone to look at you and think, poor Elowen. Look what they did to her.”

“That isn't what I'm doing.”

He scoffed.

“Of course it is.”

His eyes moved over my face with open disgust.

“You're a liar, a manipulator, and a selfish little coward.”

The words hit harder than I expected. I kept my face still. Draven leaned closer.

“Seraphine lost everything because of you, and somehow you still have the nerve to stand here pretending you're innocent.”

“I am innocent.”

His expression turned cold.

“No. You're not.”

He looked at me like I was something beneath him.

“You're exactly what everyone said you were.”

My grip slipped slightly against the tray.

Draven noticed. A cruel smile touched his mouth.

“Keep playing the frightened victim if you want.”

He stepped aside, leaving me a clear path.

“But don't mistake everyone's silence for forgiveness.”

I stood there, holding the tray against my chest.

Then he added quietly,

“Sooner or later, Elowen, you're going to admit what you did.”

I looked at him.

“I won't.”

His eyes hardened.

“We'll see about that.”