Chapter 9: cat's out of the bag

The smell of onions and roasting meat clung to the air like a heavy curtain as I trailed after the maids. My body was tired, but my mind wouldn’t quiet, humming with a restless unease that made every step feel jagged. After moving my things into the shabby room Onyx had chosen for me, I hadn’t been able to sit still.

So when the maids mentioned preparing dinner, I volunteered or maybe just followed without asking. Anything was better than being alone with my thoughts.

The kitchen was a sprawling chamber of stone, its walls stained with decades of smoke and grease. Firelight flickered in the open hearth, casting long shadows over copper pots and knives that glinted like teeth. The air was alive with movement: the clatter of spoons against pans, the hiss of water on hot iron, the low murmur of the servants as they moved about in a well-practiced rhythm.

I tried to disappear into the background, pulling up my sleeves and setting myself to peeling potatoes. My hands moved mechanically, but my mind wasn’t on the task. It drifted, again and again, back to him. To Onyx. To the way he had stared at me as I fled his chambers, as though he were memorizing every inch of me. To the sound of destruction that followed me down the hall, rage shaking the very walls.

I squeezed the knife tighter until my knuckles whitened. I didn’t want to think about him. Not here. Not now.

But peace was never meant for me.

The scrape of sharp heels on stone alerted me before I even looked up. A hush fell over the kitchen, the rhythm of work faltering as though the very air had stiffened.

Then I saw her.

Morgana.

Her presence was like a storm, filling the room before she even spoke. Tall, draped in a gown the color of deep wine, her black hair coiled in intricate braids that gleamed under the firelight. Her eyes, dark, sharp, venomous, landed on me almost immediately.

And then she smiled.

Not a pleasant smile. A predator’s smile.

“Well, well,” she drawled, her voice sweetened with malice. “If it isn’t the little whore.”

My stomach dropped.

I straightened slowly, the knife still in my hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her expression hardened. She strode toward me, the sharp click of her heels echoing through the kitchen. Before I could step back, her hand lashed out.

The slap cracked against my cheek, sharp and stinging, sending my head whipping to the side. The knife clattered from my hand, spinning across the table before falling to the floor.

Gasps rippled through the maids.

I pressed a hand to my burning skin, the shock of it stealing my breath. “What the hell—”

“You filthy little thief!” Morgana snarled, her voice dripping with venom. “Did you really think no one would find out? That you could crawl into his bed and keep it secret?”

Her words slammed into me, sharp and suffocating.

Crawl into his bed.

Skye.

She knew.

My heart thundered in my chest as I blinked at her, the world tilting in sudden disarray. How could she know?

“How…?” The word barely escaped me, my voice small, trembling.

Morgana’s lip curled. She took a step closer, her eyes flashing with cruel satisfaction. “You should see your face. Pathetic. Did you really think Skye wanted you? That he would risk everything for some half-blood wretch who doesn’t even belong here?”

The words tore at me, sharper than her slap.

“Lady Morgana, that’s enough,” one of the older maids whispered, stepping forward. But Morgana didn’t even glance her way.

“You disgust me,” she spat. “You seduce him, poison him, and for what? To climb higher? To cling to scraps of power you’ll never deserve?”

I stiffened, my hands trembling at my sides. The maids were closing in now, some trying to put space between us, their voices nervous and low.

But Morgana wasn’t finished.

She lunged at me again, this time grabbing at my arm. I twisted away, stumbling into the table. Pots clanged, and a bowl of chopped herbs spilled to the floor.

“Stop it!” I shouted, my voice breaking with anger and desperation. “You don’t know anything!”

Her laugh was cruel and sharp. “Oh, but I do. I know everything.”

My chest tightened, my lungs straining against the panic that clawed at me. How could she have found out? Had someone seen us? Had Skye told her? No. No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

But the way she looked at me, like she held the blade and I was already bleeding, made doubt curdle in my gut.

The maids finally forced themselves between us, pulling Morgana back as she spat curses, her hands clawing the air as though she still meant to strike me.

“Don’t touch me!” she screeched at them, her face twisted with fury. “She’s nothing! She’s dirt! And Skye, Skye will see her for what she really is soon enough.”

Her words echoed in my skull, each one a dagger.

The maids pushed her toward the doorway, their hands firm but trembling. Morgana struggled, her gown catching on the stone floor, but they managed to drag her out of the kitchen, her insults spilling behind her like poison.

And then, silence.

The clatter of pots, the hiss of boiling water, even the crackle of fire seemed to fade, swallowed by the stillness that followed her storm.

I stood there, my hands trembling, my cheek still burning from her slap.

The maids looked at me, their faces unreadable. Some pitied me. Some avoided my gaze entirely, pretending to busy themselves with their work.

But none of it mattered.

Because her words were still ringing in my head.

She knew.

And if she knew, then it was only a matter of time before Onyx did.

My breath hitched, and I clutched the edge of the table for support, my knees threatening to buckle.

What was I supposed to do now?