LAURA

Freya’s POV:

Two days.

That was how long I had stayed away from the kitchens, and it wasn't because anyone told me to, but because Lucien had insisted I rest after fainting.

The servants had obeyed him without question, which meant no one had expected to see me working again so soon. However, lying in my room staring at the ceiling was depressing and slowly driving me insane.

So when I woke up this morning feeling steady enough to stand without the room spinning, I decided I’d had enough of resting.

Work meant routine and routine meant normalcy, which was what I needed right now.

The estate was already alive by the time I reached the kitchen.

The large doors were open, letting warm light spill across the long stone counters. The scent of fresh bread and herbs filled the air, as servants moved around quickly, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, carrying trays.

For a moment, I simply stood there, simply taking in the sight before. I never thought I would ever miss this.

Compared to what has been going on in my life recently, this place made me feel that normalcy that I was craving.

After everything that had happened in the last few days, this was the first place that felt even remotely familiar.

No one immediately noticed me, which suited me just fine. I slipped inside quietly and reached for a knife near a basket of vegetables.

“Careful with that,” the person beside me said softly with a bit of amusement in her tone.

I turned to see a girl standing there.

She couldn’t have been much older than me. Her skin was warm brown, her hair tied into two neat braids that stopped just a beat below her shoulders.

There was a kindness in her eyes that made me relax immediately. She somehow reminded me of Nora, who I haven't seen just yet.

“You’re new,” she said, bobbing her head to nothing but the loud voices that clashed in the background.

“So are you,” I replied.

“Guess we’re both learning then,” she said with a bright smile that took me aback.

This was genuinely my first time seeing someone happy to be here, or maybe she had just come to terms with her present situation.

I gave her a crooked smile and started cutting the vegetables in front of me.

“What’s your name?” I asked, trying to start a conversation.

I didn't really have any friends here and since I was probably going to die here, it wouldn't hurt to make one.

“Amara.”

It suited her.

“I’m Freya.”

Amara leaned her hip lightly against the counter as she worked beside me.

“Been here long?”

“A little while.”

Would she understand if I told her long enough to know my way around but not long enough to understand exactly what was happening.

“What about you?” I asked just to get my mind off the thoughts.

Her smile faltered just slightly, “A week now.”

I nodded. I couldn't help but wonder what got her here, since most people had their own sob story.

However, as much as I was curious, I knew better than to ask questions.

“My brother sold me.”

The words came out quietly, like she had already repeated them too many times to feel the weight of them anymore.

I stopped cutting for a moment, trying to understand what she meant even though I fully understood.

“Sold you?”

She nodded.

“Debt.”

Of course. That word seemed to follow almost every story here.

“Apparently my freedom was worth a few coins and a bottle of wine,” she said and let out a butter chuckle.

Even though the kitchen was still bustling, everywhere seemed quiet around us.

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nodded slowly and continued cutting.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to mutter, not willing to tell her my story.

Bounding over a betrayal would only make me feel insane and pathetic.

Amara shrugged like it didn’t matter.

“Nothing to be sorry about. It’s done now.”

Her calmness unsettled me a little, but before I could say anything else, something caught my attention.

A figure stood at the entrance of the kitchen.

A girl.

Was she new? I wondered as I furrowed my brow, trying to figure her out.

She was thin and looked really fragile. Her white dress hung loosely around her body, and her long platinum hair fell over her shoulders in soft waves.

There was something strange about her presence.

It made her look ethereal at the same time… unsettling.

She stood perfectly still, staring at me with a look that I couldn't decipher.

She was definitely not a slave here, but then who was she? She looked too human for some reason.

My knife slowed against the cutting board.

The girl didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Just watched.

A servant carrying a tray walked past the doorway, obstructing my view of her.

Then she was gone.

I frowned as my eyes scanned the doorway again.

Nothing.

Was I hallucinating?

“Freya,” Amara’s voice pulled me back.

“You’re about to slice your finger off.”

I looked down quickly and indeed, the knife was dangerously close to my hand.

I pulled it away immediately.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“You were staring like you saw a ghost,” she said jokingly, shifting on her feet.

I forced a small laugh.

“Just distracted.”

Amara hummed thoughtfully but didn’t press further.

I needed to see the doctor but I was too scared to meet the one available for the slaves. The thought of him drinking my blood made me shudder just before I continued my task.

Around us, the other servants continued working, though I noticed something strange.

A few of them were glancing in our direction and kept giving Amara and I odd glances.

Some would look, then whisper to each other before they carried on with their work.

It didn't bother me because it wasn't something new. The servants were always curious, although I didn't know why their interest was suddenly in me.

The kitchen door creaked and the atmosphere shifted instantly.

The buzzing subsided.

The servants straightened.

The look on everyone's faces was the same… grim.

It was obvious that an oppressive vampire was in sight.

Laura.

She moved through the kitchen like she owned every inch of it. Her posture was perfect, and her red hair was packed into a neat ponytail.

Her sharp eyes scanned the kitchen with clear disapproval, ready to make life hell for any slave that crossed her path.

“Is this how things are usually done?” she asked coldly.

No one answered.

Where was Nora? She was the only one capable of saving us from Laura.

Laura walked toward the counters slowly, her manicured fingers trailed over the edge of a bowl before she looked at one of the cooks.

“This soup is too thick.”

The cook swallowed nervously and said, “I can fix it immediately.”

“You should have fixed it before serving it.”

Her voice wasn’t loud, but the authority was clear.

Laura continued walking just before her gaze landed briefly on me.

I froze, waiting for the doom, but she moved away as if I barely existed.

She stopped near the vegetables I had been cutting. Her eyes narrowed slightly just before she asked, “Who prepared these?”

A servant near the stove hesitated before stepping forward and said, “I did.”

My eyes went wide in surprise, wondering why the servant was covering up for me.

Laura picked up one of the sliced pieces between her fingers with a look of disgust and said, “This is sloppy.”

With his head lowered, the servant muttered, “I’ll redo them.”

“No,” Laura said just before her gaze slid toward me.

“You.”

For a moment I wasn’t sure she was speaking to me until she pointed.

“Redo them.”

My stomach tightened as I tried to maintain my cool.

I wiped my hands on my apron and nodded quietly.

“Of course,” I said, hoping she wouldn't find anything wrong with my tone.

Amara gave me a sympathetic look before stepping aside so I could move closer to the counter and I began cutting again.

The kitchen slowly returned to its rhythm, but it was quiet this time while Laura remained nearby, observing.

Her presence felt like a weight pressing down on my neck as I tried to focus on my task.

Then I made the mistake of looking up, and our eyes met just like the day Lucien brought me back.

It was just for a second, but that was enough for Laura.

She walked toward me slowly while I kept working, pretending not to notice.

Then her shadow fell over the counter… over me.

Crack.

The sound echoed sharply through the kitchen and the activities stopped for just a second.

Pain exploded across my cheek as my head snapped to the side. For a moment I didn’t understand what had happened then the burning sensation spread across my face.

Laura had slapped me.

Apart from the little pause, no one after like something had happened. They just kept working.

I blinked back the tears threatening to fall and stole a glance at her.

She looked so unbothered and bored.

“Don’t stare at me like that again,” she said quietly.

My hands trembled slightly against the counter.

Amara was gone and I hadn’t even noticed her leave.

It was clear that I couldn't do anything and I had no one on my side.

Not Lucien.

Not Duncan.

Not Nora.

So I continued working just like everyone else, although my chest ached from the pain i was trying to keep in.

Just when I thought it was all over, Laura leaned in with a wicked smile and said, “Wait until the Vampire King finds out his son is fawning over a human weakling again.”

The word ‘again’ struck me harder than the whole sentence.

Again.

What did she mean by that?

My mind instinctively jumped to Duncan’s words.

You let her die…

Laura straightened and cleared her throat.

“Don’t get comfortable here, Freya,” she continued calmly.

“I plan to get rid of you.”

And with that, she turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Even now that she was gone, no one came to ask me if I was okay. If anything, they continued to work like I was invisible.

I had made the mistake of leaving the little illusion Lucien had put me in and that was what remained in my mind as I worked through the vegetables once again.