Ch 34: Feared or Loved
The next morning, Elena woke to the sound of rain against the windows. Grey light filtered through the curtains, soft and muted. It was the kind of morning that invited stillness.
Kazimir was already gone. The sheets beside her were already cool. But as she pressed her hand into his side of the mattress, a hazy memory surfaced: She remembered stirring in the pre-dawn darkness. She had felt the him kiss her forehead, his voice low—murmuring something about unexpected business and returning soon. She had been too exhausted to fully wake, drifting back to sleep before she understood what those words meant.
He's always working. Always fighting. Always preparing.
The weight of the coming war with Dante pressed against her consciousness, but she didn't dwell. If she let herself think too much, the fear would swallow her whole.
Instead, she lifted her hands in the grey light. Calluses were forming on her palms. Her knuckles were slightly bruised. She understood now that her hands were capable of causing pain.
But yesterday, they had been healing hands. Greta's terrified face. The angry burn. The way the girl's sobs had quieted under her touch. All those years of tending her own wounds in the dark—they hadn't been wasted. They had been training.
A soft knock pulled her from her thoughts. She tapped the call bell Kazimir had added on the nightstand.
The door opened. Anna stood there, a bundle of clean linen in her arms. Behind her was Greta.
Anna dipped her head. She set the bundle on the chair by the door. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted." With that, she turned and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
Elena blinked. The room felt suddenly smaller.
Greta stood near the door, her hands clasped in front of her. She wasn't trembling like yesterday—but there was a stiffness to her shoulders, a careful watchfulness in her blue eyes. She looked at Elena, then quickly looked away, then looked back.
"I—" the girl started, then stopped. She took a breath and tried again. "Boss told me this morning. He said I would be looking after you when he's away." Her voice wavered slightly, but she pressed on. "I've only been here a few months. A little before you came, actually. I'm still learning things. But he said he trusts me, and I don't want to let either of you down."
Elena watched her. The girl was nervous because she had been given responsibility. A promotion, of sorts. And she was scared of messing it up.
I know that feeling, Elena thought.
She reached out and patted the edge of the bed. Greta hesitated, then came closer. She sat down carefully, perching on the side.
"I'm not going to be difficult," Greta said, almost to herself. "I can do this. I just—I've never been a personal maid before. I was in the kitchen. I helped with deliveries."
Elena smiled. She could see it. This girl, chatty and warm, probably made many friends in the servant halls.
We're very different, she realized. But maybe that's not a bad thing.
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She mouthed slowly: ‘I talk very little. So you can talk enough for both of us.’
Greta stared at her lips, then processed the words. A surprised laugh escaped her. "Really? You wouldn't mind?"
Elena shook her head.
Greta's shoulders relaxed. The stiffness melted. "Okay. Okay, I can do that." She paused, then added more quietly: "I was scared to meet you. The boss's wife. And after yesterday, when you helped me, I didn't think you're scary at all." She caught herself. "I mean—not that you should be scary. You're very kind. That's what I mean."
Elena felt heat behind her ears. She looked down at her hands.
Greta seemed to sense she had said enough. She stood up, glancing around the room. "Should I... tidy up? Or do you need breakfast? Or I can just leave you alone if you want. I'm still figuring out what to do."
Elena pointed toward the table by the window, then mimed eating.
"Breakfast! I'll be right back!" Greta hurried out.
When she returned with a tray, she set it down carefully and stood back. Elena patted the chair beside her. Greta's eyes went wide.
"I shouldn't. You're—"
Elena patted the chair again.
Greta sat obediently.
"Sister," Greta said after a while, testing the word. "Anna said I should call you that. Is that all right?"
Elena nodded.
"Okay. Sister." Greta smiled, and the nervousness finally faded completely.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Later that afternoon, Greta returned to help Elena prepare for a bath.
She had the water ready—steaming, fragrant with lavender oil. Elena stood by the tub, her robe clutched at her throat. Steam rose around her.
"Take your time, Sister! I'll be right outside." Greta said cheerfully before she closed the door.
Elena exhaled. She let the robe fall and stepped into the water. The warmth enveloped her. She sank down until the water covered her shoulders, surrounded by steam and the faint scent of lavender.
Lavender. Her mother had loved lavender. Elena closed her eyes and let herself remember.
Some time later, she heard a soft knock.
"Sister? Are you finished? I brought a towel warm from the hearth."
Elena rose, wrapped herself in a fresh robe, and opened the door. Greta stood there with a thick towel draped over her arms. Steam rose from the fabric.
Greta draped the towel over Elena's shoulders and led her to the chair by the small table. "Can I help you with your hair, Sister?"
Elena nodded and sat.
Greta stood behind her and began gently squeezing the water from her hair with the warm towel. Her hands were careful, patient.
"You have pretty hair," the girl said. "Long and soft. Mine's too curly. It tangles when it gets too humid."
Elena smiled. She could imagine Greta impatiently trying to tame a head of curly hair.
"I was so nervous this morning," Greta admitted, her hands working through a section of hair. "Boss called me into his study. Just me. I thought I was in trouble." A small laugh. "He said he needed someone trustworthy to look after you when he's away. He said he'd noticed I work hard and keep my mouth shut when it matters."
Elena listened. She could picture it—Kazimir, grey-eyed and serious, choosing this girl because she was honest and loyal.
"You saved my arm yesterday. I'm grateful," Greta continued, her voice softer now. "You didn't hesitate to help. Not everyone would do that. A lot of people in this mansion are mean."
Greta finished drying her hair and stepped back.
"There. Good as new. Should I braid it or leave it loose?"
Elena turned and mouthed: ‘Loose.’
"Loose it is." Greta set the towel aside. "Do you need anything else, Sister?"
Elena looked at her—this chatty, warm girl who had been nervous to meet her but was now standing easily, waiting for direction. She smiled and shook her head.
'No, thank you. Get some rest. Kazimir probably woke you up early this morning.'
After Greta left, Elena sat by the window and watched the rain. She thought about the day. About Greta's nervous arrival, the way she had relaxed over breakfast. About the bath and the hair-drying, quiet and companionable. About the word "sister," now settling into something real.
I have someone to take care of now. Someone who needs me.
The thought was both comforting and terrifying. Caring about people meant risking loss. But Greta was here now. And Elena wanted to be the person who could offer safety, the way Kazimir had offered it to her.
Elena pressed her fingers to the cool glass. Outside, the rain streaked the window. The sea battered the cliffs below. Nothing about the storm had changed.
But inside Elena, fragile roots of belonging had begun to grow.
Last edited by Feiya Phia 5/8/26