I opened my palm and found a piece of candy resting there. Its shiny wrapper caught the light for a moment, but the bright color didn't stir any excitement in me. I had no appetite for sweets. No appetite for anything, really. Something about today felt... wrong. Off-kilter. Ayoma had been acting strange—more than usual—and my grandmother, too. Or perhaps they had always been this way, and I had simply been too distracted, too naive, too desperate to belong to see it.
But if they had always been this way, why was Grandma suddenly so wary of Ayoma? She never liked her, not truly, but now her wariness had teeth. There was something more behind her glares and short answers. Something sharper, something darker.
My mind was a swirling mess of questions that refused to settle. I tried to push the thoughts away, tried to clear my head, but they clung to me like a heavy fog that refused to lift. And in the middle of that fog, without even realizing it, my feet had carried me up to the second floor.
The part of the house where my family lived.
It might sound odd to someone else....someone normal, that I lived on a separate floor from them, but in this house, that was the norm. They allowed me to stay, barely, and made sure there were walls between us wherever possible. Physical ones. Emotional ones.
A dozen small, deliberate separations that made their feelings loud and clear.
I turned, meaning to go back to my corner of the house before anyone noticed me, before anyone had a reason to ask what I was doing there. But before I could retreat, I caught sight of someone standing near the hallway closet.
She was not particularly slender, not delicate like those women in old paintings, but her presence filled the space as though it belonged to her and always had. Her skin was porcelain-pale, her features sharp and beautiful, framed by hair that caught the faint light from the window. She wore a crisp green shirt that looked freshly pressed, as if she'd dressed not for comfort but for control.
My mother.
She turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice smooth, but with a hint of suspicion woven into the edges.
"I came up by accident," I replied quietly. "I'll leave now."
She didn't step aside. Instead, she gestured toward the hallway. "Now that you're here, you can come with me to fetch some clothes for your brother."
Of course. Her precious son. The golden boy who could do no wrong. The one who's existence I hate. Honestly if he died, that would've been better.
I forced a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "How convenient. Nothing brightens my day like being dragged along to cater to someone who'd rather I didn't exist."
She gave a soft, mocking laugh. "Don't be so dramatic. A few shirts won't kill you."
I crossed my arms, still standing firm. "And yet, somehow, you never ask him to do anything. I guess the rules don't apply to royalty."
Lily stared at me as though in shock, her smile disappearing. How did a seven-year-old girl, who once begged for her mother's affection with teary eyes and trembling hands, learn to wield sarcasm like a weapon?
How did the same child who once clung to her skirts and pleaded for bedtime kisses now throw sarcasm with the ease of someone twice her age?
Lily's mood worsened, as she knit her brows.
"Careful, Yuri." Her eyes glinted with something dangerous. "That sharp tongue of yours might eventually cut through all the goodwill this family has shown you."
I raised an eyebrow, not backing down. "What goodwill? Letting me live in the store-room like some ghost that haunts the halls? Letting me exist yet let me die at the same time? Just as long as I stay quiet and invisible, right?"
Lily leaned slightly closer, her voice softening into something deceptively sweet,. "You know, Ayoma has been acting strangely lately. Don't you think?" She said, as to try and change the topic of the conversation.
My stomach tightened. There it was. The warning, cloaked in casual conversation.
I matched her tone, tilting my head. "Strange how? You mean not smiling when you insult her in passing? Or just failing to read your mind like the rest of us?"
She clicked her tongue in dissatisfaction. "You're mastering the art of speech. Not sure if that's something to be proud of."
I met her gaze without flinching. "Guess it runs in the family. Or skips it entirely."
She paused at the stairs, looking down them, then back at me. Her smile turned sharper. "You know, if you keep refusing to do these simple little things I ask…" She trailed off, then looked me dead in the eye. "I might have to let Ayoma go. After all, what's the point of keeping a maid who can't manage her own charge?"
I stared at her, stunned for a heartbeat. The threat was delivered so casually it took a moment to fully register.
"So now we've moved on to blackmail. Nice. You didn't even bother to warm up."
"Let's not be so dramatic," she said again, her voice almost melodic. "Think of it more as… encouragement."
She turned and started down the stairs, not waiting to see if I followed.
I did.
Not because I wanted to. Not because I cared about whatever errand she'd cooked up. But because if I didn't, Ayoma would pay the price.
I didn't dare challenge her, because that would be the greatest mistake I would regret.