Chapter 27: new mode

Chapter 27: new mode
The castle always buzzed, a hive of whispers and hurried steps, but that morning the air felt different. I felt it on my skin as soon as I left Onyx’s room. Every gaze clung to me longer than it should have, every hushed word rose just high enough to sting.
The news had spread.
Onyx hadn’t wasted time. By dawn, he had already told the staff, the guards, the council. His mate was no longer a maid. She was a member of the household.
And so they looked at me differently now, but not the way he probably imagined. Their eyes weren’t filled with respect or loyalty. They were filled with suspicion, envy, malice.
I walked through the corridor with my head down, fighting the urge to curl in on myself. The same women who once shoved buckets into my arms and laughed at my clumsy mistakes now pressed themselves against the walls, stiff and mocking, as though suddenly my presence demanded a courtesy they didn’t want to give.
“She thinks wearing clean clothes makes her a lady,” one of them hissed under her breath.
“Wait until she embarrasses him in front of the court. She’ll crawl back to the kitchens soon enough,” another sneered.
I ignored them, though each word bit into me like glass shards under the skin.
Aristea waited for me near the stairwell. She stood tall, a basin of folded linens in her arms, but her gaze was steady when it found mine. No mockery there. Just quiet recognition.
“Milady,” she said, voice calm but deliberate.
The word hit me like a slap. It wasn’t just for show—she said it loud enough for the others nearby to hear. Their snickers died quickly, swallowed by silence.
“Don’t,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Don’t call me that.”
Her lips quirked faintly. “You’ll have to get used to it.”
I clenched my jaw, refusing to let her see how much it unsettled me. Together, we moved down the corridor, but she angled closer, her voice dropping low so only I could hear.
“You’ve caused an uproar. The castle thrives on gossip, and now you are their feast.”
“I didn’t ask for this,” I muttered.
“I know.”
We entered the chamber Onyx had arranged for me—larger than the servant’s quarters but nowhere near the lavish suites of nobility. Still, it had a proper bed, a wardrobe, even a vanity by the window. My belongings had been set neatly inside, as if to remind me this was no passing whim.
I turned to Aristea, arms folded. “Why did you agree to this? To serve me?”
She set the linens down on the edge of the bed, smoothing them with careful fingers before looking up. “Because I asked you to choose me. And because you did.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand you.”
“You will,” she said softly. “In time.”
Her calmness unnerved me. The way she seemed to know more than she let on, the way she never flinched at the shifting storms around us.
I sat heavily on the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands. “This is a nightmare. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want a title. I just want to disappear.”
Aristea’s voice was gentle but firm. “And yet you cannot. Do you not see it? Onyx binds you to this place. The council will not ignore it, and the family cannot. You are tied whether you wish it or not.”
The words sank like stones in my stomach.
A knock at the door pulled us both to attention. A pair of maids stepped inside, their faces pinched tight, their movements stiff. They carried a tray with bread, fruit, and tea, but their eyes flicked over me with thinly veiled disdain.
“His Lordship requested breakfast be brought to… her quarters,” one of them said, dripping venom into the pause.
They set the tray down harder than necessary, bread shifting from its place. One of them sneered openly. “I wonder how long until you forget how to carry one of these yourself.”
My cheeks burned. Aristea’s gaze sharpened, but before she could speak, I lifted my chin. “You can leave it there. And the next time you bring food, knock properly and speak with respect.”
The words tasted foreign in my mouth, arrogant even, but I forced them out. Onyx had said they would respect me, hadn’t he?
The maids’ mouths fell open slightly, disbelief flickering before one of them scoffed. “As you say… milady.”
Their curtsy was mocking, but they left quickly.
The moment the door shut, I collapsed back on the bed, groaning. “Gods, I sound ridiculous.”
“No,” Aristea said simply. “You sounded like someone learning how to claim her space.”
I pressed my palms over my eyes. “I don’t want space. I want peace.”
She hesitated, then sat across from me. Her hands folded in her lap. “Do you remember what I told you before? That I was searching for you?”
I nodded, wary.
Her gaze held mine, unwavering. “It wasn’t chance that brought me here. I knew who you were the moment I saw you. You carry the blood of the rightful line. The one they tried to erase.”
My breath caught. “Stop.”
“It is the truth.”
“I don’t want it!” The words tore out of me, sharp and desperate. “I don’t want a throne, or a crown, or any of it. Let them keep their kingdom. Let them choke on it.”
Her voice softened, though her eyes burned with intensity. “I understand. But whether you want it or not, you are marked. That is why Onyx clings to you so fiercely. That is why the council whispers. That is why Morgana strikes like a viper.”
I shook my head violently, my pulse pounding in my ears. “No. No, I am just me. Just Blair. A girl who scrubbed floors and fetched water.”
Aristea leaned closer, her tone steady. “And yet you are more. The bond proves it. You cannot run from what you are.”
Tears burned hot in my eyes. I hated her for saying it, hated the truth lodged in her words. My chest felt too tight, the room too small.
“I don’t want it,” I whispered again, broken.
“I know,” she said softly. “But wanting does not change what is.”
A heavy silence settled. Outside the door, I could hear the faint shuffle of footsteps, the snickers of the other maids lingering, listening. No doubt tomorrow their whispers would be twice as sharp.
But Aristea reached across, her hand brushing mine briefly, grounding me. “You don’t have to decide everything now. For now, breathe. Learn. Watch. When the time comes, you will know what to do.”
I clutched the sheet at my side, heart hammering.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I couldn’t change who I was. But gods, I wanted to.