Chapter 117 An eye for an eye

Chapter 117 An eye for an eye
Celeste:

It became clear before midday that Maureen was no longer guessing.

She had figured something out.

Not everything—no, not yet—but enough to shift her behavior in a way that made my instincts sharpen painfully. From the moment the morning began, she had not rested once, not sat for long, not allowed a single task to pass through another pair of hands without her involvement. At first, I assumed it was lingering anxiety from the poisoning, perhaps some desperate need to reclaim control over her surroundings. But by the third summons… then the fifth… then the eighth…

I understood.

This was intentional.

Calculated.

Cruel in its precision.

“My Luna requests you in the storage wing,” one of the junior maids announced breathlessly, bowing her head as I stepped into the corridor.

I had just returned from the northern kitchens—after being sent there to personally inspect dried herbs that had already been verified twice by other staff. Before that, I had been ordered to review linen inventories in the lower quarters. Before that, I had been made to oversee guard rotations, something that had never once been part of my responsibilities.

And still—There was more.

Always more.

“Of course,” I replied calmly, though the faint burning behind my eyes had begun hours ago.

It was subtle at first.

Just a prickling heat.

Now it pulsed.

Deep.

Unsettling.

Like something inside my skull was slowly waking.

By the time I reached the storage wing, Maureen was already there, standing beside a long wooden table stacked with bundles of parchment and sealed jars. She didn’t turn when I entered. She didn’t greet me immediately. She simply continued reviewing a scroll as though my presence was an afterthought.

“My Luna,” I greeted, lowering my head respectfully.

Only then did she glance up.

Slowly. Carefully.

“There you are,” she said calmly. “You took longer than expected.”

“I came as quickly as I could,” I answered, keeping my voice steady despite the growing pressure behind my temples.

She hummed softly, tapping the parchment once before rolling it closed.

“Good,” she murmured. “Because I have another task for you.”

“Take inventory of the southern herb crates,” she continued. “Every jar. Every seal. Every label. I want a full report written and delivered before sunset.”

That was impossible.

Not difficult.

Impossible.

There were hundreds of jars.

Maybe more.

Even with assistance, it would take hours.

Alone—

It would take everything.

Still, I lowered my head again.

“As you wish, Luna.”

She watched me carefully as I turned to begin.

Not casually.

Not absentmindedly.

But with the focus of someone measuring endurance.

Testing limits.

Waiting for cracks.

And that was when I truly understood.

She wasn’t assigning tasks.

She was draining me.

Piece by piece.

Hour by hour.

Like a hunter tiring prey before delivering the final blow.

By midday, the pain in my eyes had deepened into something vicious.

Sharp.

Relentless.

Each blink sent sparks of white heat across my vision. Each movement felt heavier than the last. Sweat clung to my skin beneath the fabric of my uniform despite the cool air inside the storage wing.

Still—

Another summons came.

“Celeste,” another maid called, breathless again. “The Luna requires you in the upper hall.”

Of course she did.

I swallowed hard, forcing my breathing to steady before making the climb.

One step.

Then another.

Each stair felt longer than the last.

When I reached the hall, Maureen stood near the windows, bathed in pale afternoon light. Her posture remained upright, composed, regal—but I noticed the faint tremor in her hands now, the exhaustion weighing on her shoulders as heavily as it did mine.

She was tiring herself too.

Not by accident.

By design.

“You called for me, Luna,” I said quietly.

She turned slowly, her gaze settling on me with unsettling calm.

“Yes,” she said. “You look tired.”

A faint smile touched her lips.

Not kind.

Not sympathetic

“I am managing,” I replied carefully.

“I’m glad,” she murmured. “Because there’s more.”
“I need you to review the accounts from the eastern wing,” she continued. “Every record. Every expense. I want discrepancies listed before nightfall.”

That was when it became undeniable.

She wasn’t hiding it anymore.

She wanted to see how long I could endure.

How far I could be pushed.

How quickly the cracks would show.

My jaw tightened slightly before I bowed once more.

“As you wish.”

But when I lifted my head again—

She was still watching me.

Not as a mistress watched a servant.

But as a predator watched prey already limping.

\---

By late afternoon, my vision blurred at the edges.

The pain behind my eyes pulsed violently now, sharp enough to steal breath from my lungs. The fox-eyes did not tolerate exhaustion well—too much strain, too much magical interference, and the illusion holding them in place would begin to falter.

She was forcing that moment.

Dragging it closer.

And the worst part—

She was exhausting herself in the process.

By the time I was summoned again, the corridor swayed slightly beneath my feet.

“My Luna requests your presence immediately,” the guard announced.

Immediately.

I forced my body forward, swallowing hard as I approached her chambers once more.

When I entered, Maureen stood beside the table again, pouring tea with steady hands—though the faint shake in her fingers betrayed her fatigue.

We stared at each other.

Face to face.

No servants nearby. No distractions lingering at the edges of the room. Just the quiet hiss of hot liquid filling porcelain and the faint scent of herbs curling into the air like something alive.

“You want tea?” she asked calmly, pouring the steaming liquid into a delicate cup with slow, measured precision.

Moonveil.

My throat tightened slightly at the sight of the pale silver steam rising from the surface. Even from where I stood, I could feel the faint stirring behind my eyes—the subtle warning, the quiet instinct telling me this was not something I should allow into my body.

“Thank you, Luna, but I must decline,” I replied quickly, keeping my tone respectful but steady.

Her hand paused slightly above the table.

“Why?” she asked, setting the teapot down with deliberate care. “You’re going against your Luna.”

The words sounded gentle.

But there was iron beneath them.

“I am barely recovering,” I answered carefully, keeping my posture straight despite the tension creeping into my spine. “Taking Moonveil tea would only worsen my condition.”

Her lips curved faintly.

Not warmly.

Just enough to show she had expected resistance.

“Oh come on,” she murmured softly, sliding the cup across the table toward me. “Moonveil tea helps you relax. Please, have a sip. You surely can’t go against your Luna.”

There it was. Not a request. A command wrapped in sweetness.

I swallowed slowly.

The room felt tighter now, heavier, like the walls themselves were pressing inward.

Refusing again would draw attention.

Refusing again would create suspicion.

And suspicion—

Was dangerous.

Very dangerous.

So I stepped forward.

Slowly.

Every instinct in my body screamed against it, but I forced my hand to move, fingers wrapping around the porcelain cup. The heat seeped into my skin instantly, burning slightly against my palm.

I lifted it.

Held it.

For a second too long.

Then— I drank. One sip. Small. Then another.

The liquid slid down my throat smoothly, deceptively soothing, its herbal sweetness lingering against my tongue.

For a moment—

Nothing happened.

Just silence.

Just stillness.

Just the quiet ticking of time moving forward.

Then Maureen smiled.

Soft.

Satisfied.

“Good now the tea would make you relax and feel better.,” she said calmly. “Stay.”

The single word landed heavier than any command before it.

Stay.

Not leave.

Not return later.

Stay.

I lowered the cup slowly, placing it back onto the table with careful precision, forcing my breathing to remain steady even as the first faint spark of discomfort flickered behind my eyes.

“Yes, Luna,” I murmured.

Seconds passed.

Slow.

Unforgiving.

The burning began softly at first—a dull warmth pressing behind my vision, barely noticeable, easy to ignore.

Then—

It spread.

Sharpened.

Deepened.

Like needles sliding beneath my skin.

My fingers curled slightly at my sides as I forced myself to remain still, to keep my face neutral, to keep my breathing even.

Five minutes.

That was all it had been.

Five.

And already the pressure inside my skull had begun to rise.

Maureen said nothing.

Did nothing.

She simply remained where she stood, pretending to review parchment, her gaze occasionally lifting to glance in my direction.

Another minute passed.

Then another.

By the seventh minute, the burning had grown sharper, crawling behind my eyes like something alive, something furious, something trying to claw its way free.

My vision blurred briefly at the edges.

I blinked once.

Then again.

Too slowly.

Too carefully.

I could feel it now.

The heat building.

The irritation swelling.

My eyes— They were reacting.

Violently.

My fingers pressed lightly against my palms as I fought the urge to raise a hand to my face. Showing weakness here—now—would be fatal.

Still—

The pain surged again.

Stronger.

Sharper.

My eyes burned.

Gods—

They burned.

“Are you alright?” Maureen asked suddenly, her voice light, almost casual.

I swallowed hard.

“Yes, Luna,” I replied, forcing steadiness into my tone.

She tilted her head slightly.

Studying me.

Not believing me.

Another minute crawled past.

Then—

Finally—

“You may leave,” she said calmly, waving her hand dismissively as if nothing significant had happened.

Relief didn’t come.

Not fully.

Because the damage had already begun.

I lowered my head once more in acknowledgment before turning toward the door, forcing each step to remain steady despite the fire now tearing through my vision.

By the time I reached the corridor—

My eyes were burning.

Violently.

Uncontrollably.

And when I passed the polished metal surface hanging along the wall—

I saw it.

Red.

Bright.

Unnatural.

My eyes were blood-red.

I turned away quickly, quickening my pace as panic began to crawl up my spine.

I had to get back.

Now.

The moment my chamber door shut behind me—

I broke.

A raw, strangled cry tore from my throat before I could stop it, my hands flying to my face as the pain surged violently through my skull.

“Ah—!”

The sound echoed against the stone walls, sharp and desperate.

I stumbled forward blindly, knocking over a small table in my haste. The crash barely registered through the roaring pain in my ears.

My knees hit the floor hard.

Hands clutching my face.

Fingers digging into my temples as if I could rip the agony out by force.

The burning intensified.

Blinding.

Merciless.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down my cheeks, hot and endless, as another scream ripped from my throat.

“NO—!”

The fox-eyes throbbed violently, pulsing beneath my lids like something furious and alive.

She had done this.

Maureen had done this.

Deliberately.

Knowingly.

Cruelly.

Minutes passed like hours before the pain began to dull, fading slowly into a throbbing ache that left my entire body trembling.

My breathing came in ragged bursts as I collapsed fully onto the cold floor, chest heaving violently as the aftermath of the pain left me hollow and shaking.

Silence filled the room again.

But it wasn’t peaceful.

It was suffocating.

Hours passed.

Slowly.

Painfully.

And as the sun dipped beyond the horizon, darkness crept across the room, swallowing the last remnants of daylight.

By then—

The pain had faded.

I sat upright slowly, my fingers trembling as they lowered from my face.

My vision returned in fragments, clearing just enough to see the shattered table lying across the floor, broken wood scattered like debris from a battlefield.

My breathing slowed.

Steady.
Something unforgiving.

She had hurt me.

Knowingly.

Intentionally.

Deliberately.

All while smiling.

All while pretending innocence.

M
y fingers curled slowly into fists at my sides.

Fine.

If this was the path she had chosen—

Then so be it.

A slow breath left my lungs as I lifted my head, my gaze hardening into something far more dangerous than pain.

“Band by band…” I whispered hoarsely to myself.

A slow, humorless smile curled against my lips.

“You want war, Maureen…”

Another breath.

Slower.

Colder.

More deliberate.

“Then I’ll give you war.”

My nails dug into my palms as fury burned quietly beneath my skin.

“I swear it…”