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    “Olivia, fetch me some writing material.”


    At my words, the maid left, leaving me alone with Ivy. Her hands held a soft brush that combed through my hair, untangling any knots, leaving it as fluffy as a wolf’s fur, however, her cautious gaze sneaked into the mirror, appearing far too curious for her own good.


    “Are you writing a letter to someone, milady?”


    I shot her a glance from the mirror, hoping to see any shred of curiosity, of necessity to know more yet, her expression was completely numb, focused on her duties diligently, utterly unbothered by the words she’d spoken, as if they hadn’t meant anything at all. But my experience knew better, since it had already seen worse - not everything was what it seemed, not everyone revealed all the cards they wished to play.


    Hoping to test the waters, my words indulged in her hidden interest. “Yes. I’ll be writing a letter to Lord Layton Verne.”


    The maid’s eyes widened; completely taken aback by the information she had just received. “Lord Layton? Are you two friends, milady?”


    “We aren’t but I borrowed something from him and I was hoping to return it.”


    Her fingers created a long braid with several strands of my hair, yet her questions seemed to be far from over as her gaze peeked from the corner of her eyes. “What did you borrow?”


    Cautious words followed by a calm demeanor. It seemed the maid was testing her boundaries, seeing how far she could go, seeing how much her foolishness could stretch. “Nothing of importance, Ivy. I simply intend to repay his kindness. Isn’t that something we should all do?”


    My voice ended up being far louder than usual, causing all the remaining maids, to whisper as their figures stopped moving, minds completely absorbed on the imminent threat, too focused to continue their mundane tasks.


    “Certainly, milady.”


    It was common knowledge that the Verne’s weren’t loyal to the Criswell’s household, as they’d sworn their allegiance to another, however the Marquiss was but a businessman, knowing full well how to play the cards he’d been given. Even though both houses couldn’t stand each other, as their egos were far too similar to come to a compromise, their greed had something in common - while the Duke wanted to increase his wealth even further, the Marquiss wanted to reach a higher status. That was how I’d been married off to my second husband, to the cowardly Layton who couldn’t bear to kill even a fly, no matter how much the creature’s presence upset him.


    “Surely this matter won’t leave this room, right?” My voice was obnoxiously loud, warning all the women who sank their attention on the chores at hand.


    With Olivia out of the picture, it would be easy to see if Ivy had been truly speaking the truth with her allegiance. This information was meaningless as no one could prevent a noble from interacting with those from equal or lower standing, yet it was far too important for those who wanted to keep my social power at bay. If the Duke mentioned this event, surely someone from the few maids in here was working for him.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    In Ashen’s Kingdom, all commoners lived by a single truth - money comes from status. Many believed marriage to be the easiest way to earn the life they so eagerly dreamed, especially young maidens who came from dire living situations. That was mostly true in noble households, as the maids tended to act gracefully when a prospect partner came around; however, marriage with a lowborn was extremely rare and it often carried a future that was ruled by uncertainty, financially and politically. Most had their hopes shattered as the love of a lifetime turned out to be an icy morning disguising itself as a warm night, in a half empty bed with a mere broken heart within. Even then, no matter how many evil doings they did to attain their goals, the young maidens still tried to climb their way up the social ladder, not caring about who became the steps they so proudly strolled upon.


    Contrary to commoners, most nobles held a different ideal - most believed that with strength, power would follow - but the harsh truth was nowhere near as black and white. To most, gold had become a materialistic thing, an entity that came and went as it pleased, being nothing more than a channel to display one’s status.


    However, when one possessed strength, the social power and respect they yearned for was easily granted. Of course, such only came to be because of Vivian, the queen that took over the kingdom’s affairs in the name of the Evan’s duchy. Now, most noble households have their own guards and knights, steadily growing in size to protect their own citizens... or to respond to that woman’s calling.


    But they were both wrong, as one didn’t need to be blessed with strength nor have a piled-up treasury to possess power over another, as the reaper was a wicked entity that came to all, some far sooner than others. Being shallow minded, no one understood the true influence information possessed, how knowledge could move armies, could create starvation, could implement doubt. This was the sole reason Alvin was able to stand firmly against the other Dukes who all possessed far more manpower, wealth and land. It was never luck, or a gift given at birth - it was merely a sickening education with filthy, wicked ideals.


    “Milady, your writing materials per your request.” Olivia placed the quill and paper in front of me, rubbing a piece of the black ink in the stone.


    “Leave.”


    Just like obedient dogs, they followed my command and closed the door as they went. Outside, the wind appeared angry as its screams echoed through the garden, forcing the leaves to rattle among themselves, complaining about such peculiar attitude. A couple of rays lurked through the window as its origin had managed to slither through the thick clouds, threatening to shoot their sorrows down on the land.


    My hand grabbed the quill and dipped its tip onto the wet ink, yet words seemed unable to leave my mind, to write themselves onto the empty sheet.


    Layton was hiding from me, attempting to slither away from my grasp with such an intensity that earned nothing but praises, which didn’t come as a surprise. I knew the type of man he was, how he reacted to most situations, how his distancing was but his way of protecting himself.  He’d rather become a secluded man, living with his lover in the middle of misery than to attend the social events held by the nobles and aristocrats - the people who constantly belittle his feelings, that took his lack of response as submission.


    Should I invite him for tea...? A rather silly assumption as he’d probably deny my request, if he dared to send any replies, that was. Besides, inviting another nobleman to my fiancé’s house would only fuel rumors of an affair and God only knew what that would do to Terrel’s pea sized brain. If I pushed Layton too hard, he would hide away and find shelter in whatever he could yet, I couldn’t give him time to forget about me.


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