Chapter 34

Sarah's funeral had played out like a script.

It was so perfectly sculpted together that no one would think her death was woven in thick webbed lies. Lies that played on truths.

And the very marionette, who played every being who heard the tale, was the supposedly injured and heartbroken fiancé. He had been attacked wildly by her, sporting a gash across his brow. Yet he still mourned the person who gave it to him.

As the story told of a beautiful woman who had turned mad when she realised another woman had so much as interacted with the duke. The maid, an innocent thing, had been whipped as if she were an accomplice by the duke himself.

And she rotted in the dungeons of the manor. Left for the dead. Whether this was true or not I couldn't say.

Lady Sarah had then attacked the young master and right after had run for the maid but the maid had jumped out of the way and the lady had fallen out the window she had severely damaged in her craze.

The dukedom, who felt responsible for her death prepared the funeral in secrecy. They invited only the Lady's direct family who covered up the shame of a mindless daughter as a sudden passing from disease.

There was even speculation that the disease was caught from the sick duke. And that it may be deadlier for women.

Due to its now found contagious nature the funeral was attended by few. So lies that covered truth was now further covered in lies.

It was all so covered up by a thick blanket that once I had a chance to escape the chaos of preparing the funeral I had thrown up the very little I managed to stomach that day. I had watched her parents and family weep with the feeling of guilt weighing so highly on me that I could barely breath.

I hadn't killed her, but I basically had.

It astonished me how well Cain had covered it up. How cruelly he dusted his hands of a murder.

The bullet wound, which I later learned was caused by a weapon the duchy had newly produced had been lost in the bloody mess her body had received. Her skull had apparently cracked on impact.

I felt bile all over me. Inside me. On my hands.

If I felt like I could live freely at one point in my life then I couldn't feel it anymore. Because this was the moment that marked me accepting that I was going to be part of this duchy forever. Because now I held secrets for the duchy. And I knew well that Cain wouldn't let me go even if I could pay the price on my head.

He was obsessed with me.

I may not be sure when or how, but it was an irrefutable fact.

I recalled spotting the gash across his eye brow when he had sat up. His hair moving to reveal it. When I had asked him how he got it I wished I hadn't. The words echoed in my head.

"It was aimed for you".

I hadn't questioned him further. Instead, I had a strange moment of such severe shock that I was momentarily elsewhere. And while I collected myself he had taken to caressing my face with a look that spoke his heart.

He didn't regret it.

As I stared at him that night while he lulled into a deep sleep. Muttering about how nice it was to see my face as he slept, i suddenly recalled a memory.

It was a night after the duchess had died. I had just begun ignoring the young master or at least tried to. He was adamant on figuring out why my attitude had changed so suddenly back then. He had called me to his room and I had complied.

When the duchess was alive he would call me often at night to stay by his side as he slept. To tell him stories of a future which had to include everyone and hold his hand while he dreamt.

I found him lying down as usual. He didn't get up to greet me instead he watched me through careful slitted eyes. When I curtsied and awaited instructions he said nothing for a long while. Long enough for my knees to begin to ache.

"You called for me young master", I finally said in desperation, hoping he'd give me a task.

"I can't sleep".

Had he said that a month ago I would've sang him a song. Told him a story a heroic story in which he fought beasts. Stroked his hair as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

But I couldn't do that anymore.

I felt guilt as he waited for me to do what I normally would. But he knew as well as I did that I wouldn't.

"Would you like me to get you a glass of milk?" I offered, hoping he'd agree.

"No". There was no hesitation.

"I see".

That got me nowhere!

"Sing me a lullaby. I - I command you", I heard his voice crack as he spoke. Not used to commanding me.

I sang a lullaby that my mother had constantly sang to us as children. It made almost no sense to me then and even now. But I couldn't complain when it was the only song ever sung to me.

Little daisy~

Dancing in the breeze~

How your colour vibrates like stars among trees~

One day when I grow up~

I want to be a daisy~

To be as beautiful as thee~

The rest was just a humming noise filling out the time when you just started again.

He watched it while staring at me and as the song came to a stop he spoke up.

"Why won't you treat me properly?" He looked at me with his eyes that were beaten by the death of his mother and the loss of his friend.

"I'm sorry young master, but I'm a maid now. I can't be friends with you like before", I felt my throat con-stricken as I explain. It hurt me just as much.

"Father said you are a slave", he said in a low melancholic voice, "that means you belong here forever".

"That is true", I remember how I had fisted my hands back then. How I hated to be called slave. To be looked down on and reminded of how I was a lesser being.

"Then why don't you just be my friend? It was much more fun that way and you'll be here all the time anyway", he explained his words in a way that suggested it was a great idea.

But it couldn't happen.

It wouldn't.

"A slave can't be friends with a noble, your highness. I am below you. I am the dirt in your path", i bit my lip as I explained.

"I don't care about that! Why can't we?" He threw off his blanket in frustration. He was having such a temper tantrum, almost stomping his feet. His eyes glistening with fresh tears as he glared at me.

"You deserve better", I muttered to him.

That was the moment that sent our relationship spiralling down an abyss. Lost. Broken. And dead.

His face portraying an emotion I would later be very familiar with.

Anger.

"Maybe I do".