Father stood tall in the entrance wearing a suit much more discreet than his usual attire, expressionless.

  For a couple of seconds, nobody moved. Adrenaline flooded through me. My fingers, still covered in flour, tightened around the edge of the counter.

  "I imagine you must be a member of House Velmire." Mariel was the first to break the silence.

  I felt Hana's hand rest on mine.

  When Father removed his gaze from me, it was only to look down with disinterest at the woman addressing him. "I'm Alya's father."

  My mind raced and froze at the same time. Only one thing was certain—I needed to do something. Act.

  I straightened and took a discreet deep breath. For once, my mask would be used to protect someone other than myself. I turned to give Hana a warm, reassuring smile and squeezed her hand.

  "I'm sorry, Mariel. I'll step out for a moment to talk with my father."

  Mariel turned in confusion and worry. Her eyes conveyed the message clearly: are you sure?

  I nodded and made my way toward Father.

  Once outside, our eyes clashed. I held his freezing stare stonily. I'd be the wall between my family and the people inside this cozy home.

  "What, exactly, do you think you're doing, Alya?"

  "Fixing the mess that either you or Grandfather made, Father." I answered in an almost bored tone. "How do you think people would have reacted if word came out that one of our maids was beaten like that?"

  Father's expression didn't change when I confronted him, but something in his posture sharpened.

  "A servant girl was punished by the head of the house. She disobeyed, stole potions. She interfered where she shouldn't have."

  My blood drained from my face.

  He knew.

  And if he knew, then Grandfather...

  "You mean," I retorted with careful precision, "that Grandfather nearly killed her."

  Father's jaw ticked—just once. Confirmation.

  My pulse roared in my ears, but my face remained a perfect mask.

  "Father, you know as well as I do that a scandal would stain House Velmire far more than a girl's disobedience ever could. Especially with today's political climate."

  He narrowed his eyes.

  I stepped closer, lowering my voice as though confiding something strategic, something practical. My mind raced, conjuring something a Velmire would say. Something that would satisfy him.

  "I moved her away from the manor to keep things quiet. To keep us untangled from unnecessary eyes. I made sure she received medical care where no servants, guests, or journalists would see her condition. You saw her face with your own eyes. And that's after treatment. Imagine that face on the front page of a journal, with our name written all over it."

  Father's suspicion didn't fade, but neither did he contradict me.

  He was calculating. Good.

  "And the family? What have they seen? What do they know?"

  "Nothing beyond what is manageable." I replied smoothly. "They think I'm worried about her condition, rather than our reputation." An idea struck me. "I promised compensation in exchange for their discretion. A simple, clean arrangement."

  Father's eyes flicked to the house behind me, assessing the risk like a general surveying the field.

  "You handled this without consulting me, and without alerting your grandfather."

  I bowed my head just enough to appear obedient, not enough to look meek.

  "She was starting to gather attention from the other maids. I needed to act quickly, for the good of the House."

  We studied each other for a long moment.

  "Very well. I will provide the compensation. I have a checkbook in the car. Fetch your things. We're leaving immediately."

  I nodded once. "Of course."

  I turned toward the house, my spine rigid, my breath shallow.

  Once inside, the door shut behind me with a soft click, and my mask finally cracked.

  Hana and Mariel were waiting in the tiny living room—Mariel wringing a dish towel in her hands, Hana pale and gripping the back of the sofa for support. They'd stopped their conversation as soon as I stepped inside.

  "Alya." Mariel whispered, worry and relief mixing in her eyes. "You don't have to go back with him if you don't want to."

  My breath hitched. I forced a shaky smile. "Yes, I do."

  Hana flinched like someone had tugged a stitch in her side. "But Alya, if your grandfather—"

  "That's exactly why I have to go back." I interrupted gently. "If I stay here, we could be in danger. All of us. Much more than if I go there."

  Mariel stepped closer and cupped my cheek with a trembling hand. "You don't deserve to live like that, darling."

  I swallowed down the knot forming in my throat. "Maybe not. But I'll be alright. I know how to handle that, I promise. I'll stay in contact."

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Hana reached out, and I took her hand. Her grip was warm, fragile, desperate.

  "You can't go back alone, Alya, you can't." Tears gathered in her eyes.

  "I won't be alone." I squeezed her hand. "I have both of you now. And that changes everything."

  I managed a small smile. Mariel's hand cupped my shoulder.

  "Listen to me." I leaned closer to my friend. "I'm not going back to be like before. I—I'll never be the same, and it was thanks to you. I would have never had the courage to open my eyes by myself." I inhaled sharply, steadying my voice. "I'm going back to change things this time. They won't expect a wolf in the snake's den."

  I smiled.

  Hana blinked, confused. Then a small, heartbroken smile tugged at her lips.

  "You need to be careful, child." Mariel's voice was filled with worry, but there was something like pride shining in her eyes. For Hana or for me. Maybe both.

  "I will be. I need time. And I need to move carefully. If Grandfather thinks you matter to me, he won't hesitate to use your safety against me."

  Mariel nodded, her head heavy with the gravity of the situation. She pulled both of us into a careful embrace—mindful of Hana's ribs—and we held each other, not unlike the night before.

  "You're family to us, Alya." Hana murmured. "Whether you're in this house or not."

  My vision blurred.

  "Thank you." I whispered brokenly. "Thank you for... everything."

  I broke away with visible effort and went toward Tiana's room.

  The small bed.

  The fuzzy socks I still wore.

  The cardigan waiting on the chair.

  I folded each borrowed item carefully before placing it on the bed.

  Changed back into my clothes. They felt foreign. Cold, stiff, suffocating. Then laced up my boots with trembling fingers.

  When I reemerged, Mariel and Hana were standing by the dining table, stealing glances toward the window. Behind the soft orange curtains, the shape of Father's car was visible.

  "Promise you'll write." Mariel asked.

  I approached them with a smile. "I promise. I might not be able to do it often, but I'll write."

  "And promise you'll come back." Hana asked eagerly. "Once you can."

  I hesitated for a second. "I swear it."

  That was enough. Hana walked into my arms, sobbing softly.

  I held her with all the love I'd never been allowed to show.

  Then, when I couldn't bear another moment, I stepped back, wiped my teary cheeks, and smoothed my blouse.

  I had to be flawless when I stepped outside.

  "My father is writing a check for you. I told him I bought your silence on the matter." Before either could protest, I added, "Use it in case Hana needs more medical care. Please. It's the least they can do after..."

  Mariel sighed deeply and nodded.

  I went outside to get the check. Cold air greeted me.

  Father's tall frame was illuminated by a streetlamp, standing beside the back of the car, signing the piece of paper on the roof without looking up.

  I inhaled once, let the chill fortify me, and walked toward him with the perfect composure of a Velmire heir.

  "I'll give it to them. I'd like to get this over with, as I imagine you must want it too."

  I took the envelope with the family crest on it. I didn't wait for his response before walking back inside.

  When Mariel's eyes looked at the envelope, her eyebrows drawn, I decided to leave it on the table.

  I kissed Mariel's cheek, got engulfed in one last hug by both of them.

  "Stay safe." Hana whispered.

  I nodded against her soft curly hair.

  "You can come back any time, darling. Remember that." Mariel insisted, stepping back.

  I nodded once more.

  "Thank you. You too, stay safe. I'll... I hope to see you soon."

  "I hope so too."

  Before my eyes could betray me once more by letting the floodgates open, I turned and left with slow steps, gathering myself.

  When I slid into the car, my mask was perfectly in place.

  I sat staring out the window, my posture mirroring Father's beside me. Neither of us spoke. We didn't need to.

  Outside the car, the lower quarters bustled with life, just like that morning, under the bright city lights. My world had just crumbled, but life moved on. And I had to move on and keep up with it.

  "I noticed how lacking my training has been so far."

  I broke the silence.

  Father's only answer was the sideways glance he gave me.

  "My knowledge of healing magic is non-existent. I would have managed the crisis myself, had I been able to." I continued nonchalantly.

  Father didn't respond right away.

  The silence shifted. It no longer felt hostile, but pensive, as he pondered my words like chess pieces before answering.

  At last, he exhaled through his nose. "Healing is not a discipline we typically require in the household. There are specialists for that."

  I didn't turn to look at him. I kept my gaze on the blur of passing buildings, my hands folded neatly in my lap. "Specialists that don't belong to our household. Whose mouths might not always be discreet. Or—" I turned to look at his pensive profile. "They might take too long, in an emergency." I turned back to looking outside the window. "I just think it might be in our best interest if I gained some knowledge. Aside from my current education, that is."

  A pause. Father finally turned to look at me.

  "It would take time from your current training with Magister Valdosta."

  I turned to meet his calculating eyes. "I don't plan on becoming a medic, Father. If anything, it could improve my training. I'd have broader theoretical grounding. No mage has ever been hindered by understanding too much."

  Father's jaw worked subtly. Thought, not tension—I noted.

  "Besides—" I added softly, a small smile tugging at my lips. I made sure to force my smile to reach my eyes. "It reflects better on our House if I am... competent."

  His eyes narrowed slightly. That seemed to do it.

  "Very well. I'll locate a tutor. Someone discreet."

  I inclined my head.

  The city lights faded behind us. The car's soft engine was the only sound I heard for the rest of the trip back to the manor. Once the car turned onto the private road, I kept my mind from going back to the small cozy house I'd woken up in that morning and instead focused on creating a plan to escape my family's influence.

  For the moment, the best course of action seemed to be to use said influence to refine myself into someone who could one day fight it. Magister Valdosta's training became more valuable than I had imagined.

  Just as the first outline of the manor gates appeared through the windshield, Father spoke again.

  "Your grandfather is unaware you were gone last night."

  My breath stilled. I'd been almost expecting to be summoned to Grandfather's study right away.

  I turned my gaze toward Father. He sat straight, but his eyebrows betrayed him. Too tense, I noticed.

  "He won't hear it from me. Nor you. I will inform him that I saw to the maid's dismissal and made sure no scandal is generated. He doesn't need to know you involved yourself. Do you understand?"

  I took a moment to stare into his grey eyes. A shade of grey so similar to mine—yet I'd never thought of them as similar to mine... until now. Scared. Lonely.

  I had to tear my gaze away as my chest tightened painfully. I swallowed.

  "Of course." I murmured. "... thank you." I whispered even lower. Barely audible.

  He nodded and turned back to staring straight ahead.

  The car slowed as it reached the circular driveway. The manor loomed above us, its windows gleaming under the magical torches like watchful eyes.

  The driver opened my door. Father's voice stopped me before I could move to get out.

  "Alya."

  I turned.

  "You'll go straight to your room. Tomorrow, you'll go back to your training routine. You'll behave as though nothing happened."

  I inclined my head, ignoring the dull ache in my chest. "Nothing happened."

  When we entered the foyer, I allowed myself a quick glance toward Father. He was fixing his coat, his hands lingering on the cashmere a second too long. Behind the perfectly styled black hair, the smooth skin and elegant poise—I could see it. Thessalian Velmire. As scared and exhausted as I was.

  I lowered my gaze. No—I couldn't afford to sympathize with him now. And I knew, from more than a decade of experience, that nothing would result from it. I knew better than to expect an emotional connection with my father.

  I turned away before the softness in my chest could betray me and walked straight to my room, just as I'd been instructed.

  My boots echoed in the lonely path—sharp, hollow steps swallowed by high ceilings and cold walls. The manor felt suffocating, as it always did. Maybe more so, now that I knew my only companion was gone.

  When I reached my room and closed the door behind me, silence fell like heavy rain.

  I stood still for a moment. My gaze swept the familiar space—the neat bed, the polished furniture, the tall window overlooking the frozen gardens, the empty tea table.

  Everything was untouched, perfectly ordered, clinically quiet.

  Had I really been gone only one night?

  It felt like I'd left a lifetime ago.

  My chin trembled before I caught it.

  I pressed my fingers to my lips, swallowing the ache.

  Hana's bright laugh.

  Mariel's warm hands.

  The cramped little room with fuzzy socks and hand-stitched blankets.

  The smell of soup simmering on a modest stove.

  A whole different life I'd allowed myself to dream that morning.

  It seemed so unreachable now.

  I wiped the two stray tears that had managed to slip down my cheeks.

  There was no room for that here.

  I crossed the space to my wardrobe, pulled out a simple nightgown and went to the bathroom.

  I ran the shower until the water was steaming, then stepped into it, letting it wash away the flour that somehow stuck to my arms, the lingering scent of spices in my hair, the faint trace of street dust on my skin. Piece by piece, it rinsed off the remnants of a day that no longer belonged to this world.

  When I wrapped myself in a towel and changed into my nightgown, I felt heavier.

  My earlier resolution started wavering. I was certain that distancing myself from my family's flawed ideas was the right thing to do. But how? How could I ever thrive by myself, and more importantly, keep the ones I cared about protected? There was no way my father, let alone Grandfather, would let me go after spending so many resources into my upbringing.

  My heart thumped inside my chest like a wild animal trying to get free from its cage. I pressed my fist against my sternum. Breathe. I focused on counting my shaky breaths.

  Once I reached thirteen, the pain in my chest was just a dull ache.

  "One step at a time." I whispered to myself.

  I slipped beneath my blankets.

  The tray of untouched dinner sat where a servant had left it while I was in the shower.

  I turned toward it, wondering if Hana and Mariel had finished making the cookies.

  If they'd turned out well. If they'd eaten them.

  I let out a soft, sad laugh against my will.

  I turned off the lights.

  Sleep, however, refused to come.

  My thoughts looped endlessly. Hana's pale face that morning. The lively city. Father's words and expression. Mariel's kindness. My uncertain future...

  With an exasperated sigh, I turned on the lamp on my bedside table.

  I opened the small drawer, looking for my sleeping drops.

  My fingers brushed paper instead.

  I stilled. Slowly, I took out the folded piece of paper.

  The article I'd torn from the newspaper a while ago. I smoothed the creases with my thumbs. And there he was.

  Sirius Lioren, speaking to a crowd that stretched beyond the edges of the photograph. His expression fierce, determined. Defiant.

  I stared at the image for a long moment.

  I didn't know this man.

  I had no proof he'd ever listen to me, let alone help me.

  And yet...

  He was the first person I'd known who stood before power, not behind it.

  Who spoke with passion for people like Mariel.

  Who dared challenge families like mine.

  An idea—thin, fragile, frightening—began forming in my mind.

  I folded the article again, slower this time.

  I set it gently back inside the drawer.

  The lamp stayed on long after my eyes finally closed.