What a splendid palace this is," Elvira exclaimed, her voice bright with a radiant smile. "Don't you think so, sister? Shall we take a walk through the glass garden?"
Olivia turned her head slightly, offering no reply, her face a mask of indifference. Yet, despite her feigned disinterest, her steps grew slower, more measured, her gaze carefully following every movement her sister made—even though she remained a pace behind.
Elvira walked ahead with the ease of someone who knew the grounds intimately, her steps light, almost confident, as though every stone and path belonged to her. Olivia's lips curved into a sly smile. So, it is as I thought, you cunning little wretch. You know these corridors too well. Otherwise, how would you have found your way to my chamber that night when you slipped into the palace? Clearly, there is a rat within these walls feeding you secrets.
The two sisters crossed into the glass garden, the servants' eyes no longer upon them. The air seemed to shift at once, heavy with tension, and Elvira's expression changed as swiftly as a mask being cast aside. Gone was her cheerful demeanor; in its place lingered a sharper, darker edge.
Without warning, she raised her hand, her palm slicing through the air toward Olivia's face. But Olivia caught her wrist with a firm grip, stopping the blow before it could land.
"Well, my dear elder sister," Elvira hissed, her voice low but seething, "I see you have grown bolder in defying me of late."
Olivia did not answer. Her eyes held Elvira's with a cold, unflinching silence that seemed to mock her more than words ever could.
"I overlooked your insolence before," Olivia continued, leaning closer, "but this time, I won't allow you to humiliate me at your leisure." A sharp, derisive laugh escaped her lips. "Who would have thought that even dogs could learn to disobey their masters?"
Her tone shifted suddenly, cutting through the air like a blade. "But this isn't why I came. We will meet next week, at the usual place. Father has demanded your presence. And should you fail to come…" Her smile turned poisonous. "I believe your husband would find your old letters rather… enlightening. Wouldn't you agree?"
Olivia's throat tightened. She swallowed hard, her heart lurching with a dread she dared not reveal. Elvira had discovered the truth. She knew of Matthias—and now she would not hesitate to wield his name like a weapon, pressing it against Olivia's heart until she bled.
Before Olivia could summon an answer, the sound of footsteps echoed against the marble paths of the garden. Both women froze, the tension between them snapping taut like a bowstring.
Through the arch of climbing roses appeared the Duke himself, At his side walked Isabella, her expression calm yet watchful, as though she had already sensed the fragile storm brewing.
The instant Elvira caught sight of them, her features transformed once more. All trace of venom vanished, replaced by a polished smile so graceful it might have deceived any bystander. She stepped back with deliberate ease, sliding her wrist free from Olivia's grip as if nothing untoward had happened at all.
"Such a lovely place for a stroll," Elvira murmured lightly, dipping her head toward the Duke. "But I shall not intrude further. Enjoy your walk."
And with that, she turned on her heel and departed swiftly, her skirts brushing the stone floor like whispers of secrets carried away.
Olivia watched her sister's retreat, unease stirring in her chest. So quick to flee? she thought. Not a word, not a scheme? Why now does she restrain herself? The absence of mischief unsettled her more than any open threat.
She felt Isabella's gaze upon her. The younger woman had seen enough to know something lingered beneath the surface. Olivia, regaining her composure, lowered her voice and leaned subtly toward her.
"Isabella," she murmured, her tone steady but edged with caution. "From this moment on, keep your eyes sharp. Watch every detail—every gesture, every word. Do not let a single thing escape you. Do you understand?"
Isabella's eyes widened slightly, then she nodded with quiet resolve. "Yes, my lady."
Together, they turned their attention back to the Duke, though Olivia's thoughts remained clouded, haunted by the silent storm her sister had left behind.
The Duke's gaze followed Elvira until she vanished, then returned to Olivia. A faint shadow crossed his eyes, though his tone remained calm.
"Your sister seems… restless. Has she troubled you?"
Olivia folded her hands neatly, her expression serene. "Restless, perhaps. But trouble? No. Nothing worth your concern, my lord."
He studied her a moment, as though searching for cracks. "I should hope so. The peace of this house depends on harmony, not quarrels."
Her lips curved faintly. "Harmony is what I strive for each day."
Isabella, sensing the chill, kept her eyes lowered, silent as a bird between hawks.
The Duke inclined his head, suspicion flickering in his gaze. "Very well. I trust you will continue to… strive."
"Always," Olivia answered softly, each word carrying a hidden edge.
Silence fell, heavy and cold—their words polite, their eyes betraying secrets and a fragile balance ready to break.
Olivia sat alone in her chamber, the silence thick as her thoughts churned. Doubt gnawed at her mind like a restless shadow—doubt about Elvira, her sudden composure in the garden, her veiled threats, and most of all the unseen hand within the palace that aided her. Somewhere in these walls, a traitor moved unseen, whispering in her sister's ear.
Her reverie was broken by the soft creak of the door. Kyra entered, balancing a silver tray, her voice gentle.
"My lady, I've brought your supper."
Before Olivia could respond, Isabella followed her inside, the faint rustle of her gown filling the chamber. Olivia's sharp gaze fell on Kyra. "Leave us."
The servant bowed with obedient grace and slipped away, the heavy door closing behind her.
Isabella voice cut through the quiet, firm and commanding. "We need to talk."
Olivia hesitated only a moment, then met her Isabella's eyes. "I know," she replied softly, moving to the table as Olivia gestured for her to sit.
The two women settled opposite one another, the glow of the candelabra casting wavering light across their faces. But before Olivia could speak, Isabella broke the silence, her words tumbling out, urgent and uninvited.
"Olivia, why did you ask me to be cautious? Why do you fear that arrogant girl so much? Why have you been so cold, so guarded these days?"
Olivia raised a hand, her expression calm, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of irritation. "Steady yourself," she said coolly, lifting a spoonful of food to her lips. "Can you not see I am eating? Let us finish the meal, and then I shall tell you what you wish to know."
Isabella bit back her impatience, forcing herself to obey. She took up her spoon and began to eat in silence, though her gaze never left Olivia. She watched closely, waiting for the moment she would finally break the walls she had built around herself.
But then—suddenly—Olivia froze. Her spoon clattered against the porcelain bowl, the sound sharp in the stillness. Her face drained of color, horror flashing across her eyes. With a violent motion, she pushed back from the table, gagging, the food spilling from her mouth as she retched.
Isabella shot to her feet in alarm. "Olivia—what is it?!"
Her voice came ragged, trembling with terror. "Don't eat another bite, Isabella—don't touch it!" She clutched the edge of the table, her breath shallow. "It's not animal flesh… it's human."
The words struck like thunder. Isabella's hand flew to her lips, and with a gasp she threw her spoon aside, the clatter echoing in the chamber. Her eyes widened, horror burning in them.
"Olivia…" Her voice broke, scarcely more than a whisper. "How—how could you possibly know, it was human meat ?"