CHAPTER 213: MIRA

The servants’ corridors of the palace were a different world from the grand halls and opulent chambers where nobles conducted their affairs.

Narrow passageways connected the working areas of the palace, kitchens, laundries, storage rooms, allowing staff to move unseen through the building’s infrastructure like blood flowing through hidden veins.

Mira navigated these corridors with practiced ease, her arms laden with fresh linens destined for Her Majesty’s chambers.

The fabric was fine Nevareth silk, impossibly soft and infused with subtle warming enchantments to counteract the northern cold.

Eris had been pleased with them, had even smiled when Mira first delivered them, remarking that Nevareth’s amenities were more sophisticated than she’d expected.

That smile made everything worthwhile, the long hours, the suspicious glances from other servants, the whispered accusations that she was the foreign queen’s spy.

Mira didn’t care what they said. Eris had saved her from a life of abuse in Solmire, had given her purpose and protection when she had nothing, had seen value in her when everyone else had treated her as disposable.

She turned a corner, heading toward the service stairs that would take her to the upper levels, when a figure stepped out from a side corridor, blocking her path.

Lady Isolde.

Mira’s steps faltered, instinct screaming warnings even before her conscious mind processed the threat. The corridor was empty, deliberately so, she realized with growing dread. This wasn’t a chance encounter.

"You," Isolde said, her voice dripping with disdain. "The little witch’s pet."

Mira kept her eyes lowered, trying to step around the noblewoman with the practiced deference of someone who knew her place. "Excuse me, my lady. I have duties to attend to."

A hand shot out, fingers wrapping around Mira’s upper arm with bruising force. The linens tumbled from her grasp, spilling across the floor in a cascade of white silk.

"I don’t think so," Isolde hissed, yanking Mira sideways and slamming her against the stone wall hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. "We need to have a conversation, you and I."

Pain radiated from Mira’s shoulders where they’d struck the unforgiving stone. She gasped, trying to pull away, but Isolde’s grip was iron-strong, fueled by rage and something darker.

"You were the one who went to report to that bitch about what I was saying, weren’t you?" Isolde’s face was inches from hers now, close enough that Mira could see the fading bruise on her cheek, the mark Eris had left. "You went running to your mistress with tales, got me humiliated in front of the entire court."

"No," Mira managed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t, I wouldn’t, "

"Liar!" Isolde shook her violently, Mira’s head cracking against the wall. Stars burst across her vision. "You expect me to believe it was coincidence? That she just happened to know everything I’d said about her?"

"My lady, please, "

"Don’t ’my lady’ me, you little snake." Isolde’s other hand came up, gripping Mira’s chin and forcing her head up, making her meet those furious green eyes. "You’re her spy, her creature. Everyone knows it. You’d do anything she asked, wouldn’t you? Even lie to my face."

Something shifted in Mira then. Fear giving way to anger, to indignation on behalf of the woman who’d given her everything. She stopped trying to pull away, stopped cowering, and met Isolde’s glare with one of her own.

"I don’t have to lie," she said, her voice steadier now despite the trembling in her limbs. "You deserved what you got. You spread vicious rumors, tried to turn the court against Her Majesty, insulted her to anyone who’d listen."

She lifted her chin as much as Isolde’s grip would allow. "You earned that humiliation all by yourself."

For a heartbeat, Isolde simply stared, shock registering on her features that this mouse of a servant girl had dared speak back.

Then her hand moved in a blur.

The slap echoed through the empty corridor like a whip crack. Mira’s head snapped to the side, her cheek exploding with sharp, stinging pain.

Before she could recover, another slap came from the opposite direction, then another, each one harder than the last.

"How dare you," Isolde snarled between strikes. "How dare you speak to me like that. You’re nothing. Less than nothing. A servant girl playing at importance because her mistress keeps her close."

Again and again, the blows fell, Mira’s face burning, tears streaming involuntarily from the pain and shock. She tried to raise her hands to protect herself, but Isolde grabbed her wrists and slammed them back against the wall, pinning her in place.

"This is payback," Isolde said, her voice gone cold and deadly calm, somehow more terrifying than the rage had been. "For the humiliation I suffered. For the bruise she left on my face. For every snicker and whisper I’ve had to endure since that day."

She released one of Mira’s wrists only to grab her throat, not quite choking but applying enough pressure to be a threat, a promise of what could happen if Mira continued to resist.

"I will tell my mistress," Mira managed through the pain, through the tears, clinging to the only protection she had, "and she’ll..."

Isolde laughed.

The sound was harsh, mocking, utterly devoid of humor. "She’ll what? Come after me? Burn me like she burned Lady Bianca’s hand? Oh, I’m terrified." Her smile was a vicious thing.

"By this time tomorrow, your precious mistress will have far bigger problems than a slapped servant."

Her grip on Mira’s throat tightened slightly, enough to make breathing difficult. "I know what she’s hiding."

Confusion cut through Mira’s fear. "I don’t know what you, "

"Don’t play stupid." Isolde leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper.

"The instability. The thing inside her that’s going to tear her apart from the inside out. Did you think we wouldn’t notice? That we wouldn’t investigate?"

Mira’s eyes widened, genuine terror replacing the pain of physical abuse. How did she know? What had Isolde learned?