Chapter 7：I Couldn’t Swim Before

Joanna barely registered her discarded cloak pooling on the floor. She burst from the chamber, the winter air slicing through her thin shift. Brenna stumbled after her, clutching a heavy shawl. "Milady! Wait! The cold bites!"

Cold? Meaningless. Elena. In the water. Only one place in Amber Court held water – the stagnant, ice-locked lotus pond.

A single shattered goblet had bought Joanna three years of hell. If Elena drowned now, in her court, Lord Cedric would tear Joanna apart with his bare hands before sunset.

Chaos reigned at the pond's edge. Elena thrashed wildly in the black, icy water, a jagged hole punched through the surface pane. A cluster of gawking servants crowded the stone bridge, frozen specters.

"You!" Joanna's shout cracked like the ice itself. "Are you all stone? Can no one swim? Why isn't someone in there?"

A footman shuffled, eyes averted. "W-We can swim, Mistress. But… the Second Daughter… her virtue…"

"Virtue?!" Joanna's glare could have shattered rock. "Weighs more than her life?" Without another word, she plunged into the glacial breach.

The water wasn't deep. But the cold was a thousand knives stabbing bone. Sludge sucked at her boots, treacherous, threatening to anchor her in the depths. She fought the frozen muck, dragging Elena's panicked, slippery form towards the bank, hauling dead weight against the numbing agony.

Brenna met them, thick blankets already waiting. She swathed the shivering forms the moment they collapsed onto the frost-crusted stones.

"Stones and shadows!" Brenna's voice whipped out, shedding its usual softness. "Stop staring! Physician! Now! You two—help them inside! Blast every furnace! Kettles on! Ginger wine! Move!"

The courtyard exploded into frantic activity.

Then Jade stormed into Amber Court, Lord Cedric a dark shadow behind her. The maid's sharp eyes took in Elena's pallor, the sodden hair, the violent tremors.

"Milady!" Jade shrieked, throwing herself at Elena. "Are you hurt?" Her head snapped up. That accusing finger stabbed towards Joanna, still gasping on the ground. "Her! She pushed you!"

That finger. That lie. Identical to the Crystal Goblet betrayal. Joanna felt the old, buried ember of fury ignite into an inferno. But before the scorching retort could escape her lips, Brenna was a furious blur.

Crack!

The slap echoed like ice breaking over the silent court. Joanna's breath caught. Lord Cedric froze, stunned.

Brenna planted herself, fists digging into her hips, glaring down at Jade clutching her cheek. "Filthy tongued adder!" she spat, venom raw. "Can't speak truth? I'll rip it out myself! Were it not for my lady diving into that cursed pit your jewel here would be frozen fish bait!" She leaned in, voice a hiss. "See your mistress wrecked, you slime, and your first breath is poison? A dozen eyes watched mine save her! Make the charge? Prove it. Or I'll slice that lying mouth so fine, not even a seamstress could mend it!"

...

Iron Saint's Heart! Joanna stared, stunned. The quiet shadow who served her… possessed a fury worthy of Valeridge's berserkers?

As the stunned silence stretched, Elena stirred. Propped up by a maid, she coughed weakly, eyes red-rimmed pools of outrage. "Y-You… dare strike my maid?" Her voice trembled, weak but venomous.

Lord Cedric's fury finally ignited. "Insolent wretch!" he bellowed, stepping forward. "To strike a servant under my eye! Who sponsors this defiance?!"

"I do."

Joanna's voice cut through his bluster, soft as falling snow, cold as the Abyssal Deep. She tightened the sodden blanket, shivers wracking her frame. Ice crystals webbed her dripping hair. Pale, water-logged, she was a stark sculpture of endurance beside the bundled Elena. A mere few paces separated her from Cedric, yet a gulf seemed to yawn wide.

"My handmaid," she stated, meeting his furious glare without flinching, "corrects a treacherous, lying worm within my own court walls. I find it… fitting."

Treacherous worm. The words landed like hammer blows. Cedric's expression darkened. Elena flinched back into her maid's arms.

A spasm of coughs shook Elena. "Yet… violence…" Fresh tears traced paths down her chilled cheeks. "Beneath us…"

Cedric's protective rage surged, tangled with the sting of Joanna's earlier renunciation of their name. Was this defiance, this flaunting of Brenna's violence, another blade aimed at his guilt? "She speaks true!" he declared, voice hardening into river stone. "Brutality has no place! Moreover," he turned his accusing stare fully on Joanna, dripping with disbelief and contempt, "you drown on dry land."

He knew. The memory crashed over her – the frantic plunge into the Ravensmere after Silas's useless earring, the choking terror, the black water closing over her head… Cedric dragging her, retching lake water, onto the deck. Of course he dismissed Brenna's claim.

Tremors – raw, violent – began to shake Joanna's core. Cold? Or the volcano of rage this brother could still summon? "So," she forced out, teeth clenched against the tremors, "Lord Cedric also judges… I pushed her?" Her eyes, glacial fire fused into diamond, locked onto his.

He held his tongue. The fierce denial stalled as he truly saw her – wrapped like a storm-tossed sailor, radiating a terrifying, brittle stillness. The words died unsaid.

Her gaze shifted to Elena. Just a look. It was enough. Elena dropped her eyes, silent. Wordless. Just as she had stood three winters prior. The tearful confession moments ago felt like a cruel farce.

"Ha."

The sound escaped Joanna – short, sharp, laced with acid so pure it seemed to etch the frosty air.

Elena flinched as if struck, fresh tears welling.

Cedric's protective fire roared. He couldn't strike Joanna. The target shifted. "You!" he barked at Brenna. "Attend the Steward! Twenty strokes!"

Brenna's face set in defiance, but she dipped a curtsey. "As you command, M'lord."

A cold, wet hand clamped onto her arm, anchoring her. Joanna kept her hate-filled gaze on Cedric. "Brenna serves me this hour. My needs press. The manner of your sister's plunge… and the hand that pulled her out… I suggest you unearth that truth. After dry clothes." She turned, pulling Brenna with her.

Two steps, then a pause. Half-turning, her voice sliced the chill silence, low and precise: "Couldn't swim. Until… a year and a half past. Four washerwomen held me under the scouring tanks. On the bank. Prodding poles like spears against trapped otters. Held me under… counted seasons before allowing air. One learns swiftly in such waters." Without waiting for the impact, she walked into Amber Court, Brenna in tow, the heavy door sealing the frozen tableau outside.