Nysa ignored her, brushing past, but Kaeli's mocking laughter followed her like a shadow. "Bet they laughed at you. I would've."
She clenched her fists so hard her knuckles turned white, but she kept walking, refusing to give Kaeli the satisfaction of a reaction.
In her room, she finally let out a shuddering breath, pressing her forehead against the cool wood of the door as if it could steady her. The walls felt too close, the air too thick, suffocating her. She wanted to collapse onto her bed and never move again, she knew it was already too late to go to Madame Selene's shop. Instead, she rolled up her sleeves, her movements mechanical, and threw herself into chores—anything to keep her hands busy, her mind numb.
She scrubbed the floors until her hands were raw and red, the rough bristles of the brush scraping her skin. She swept every corner, dusted shelves that didn't need it, hauled water from the well until her arms trembled with exhaustion. The physical pain was easier to bear than the storm inside her chest.
As she gathered the laundry near the back of the house, her hands paused on a bundle of Kaeli's clothes. She reached into the pocket of a crumpled blouse, checking for pins or forgotten trinkets—and her fingers brushed against a folded slip of paper.
Nysa frowned, pulling it out. It wasn't hers. Likely nothing.
But something made her unfold it.
The moment she did, her blood ran cold.
It was a note.
The handwriting was a jagged scrawl—messy, rushed—definitely not Kaeli's. The ink was smudged in places, as if the writer's hand had been shaking with spite or excitement.
Nysa's breath hitched as her eyes devoured the words, each one carving deeper into her chest.
> Make sure you take her money before the week ends. I'll make it seem like I'm lending her the dress, but I've got just the one—it's already torn, and I'll make it worse. That way, when she shows up, they'll all see her for what she is. Serves her right for acting all high and mighty. You know where she keeps the coins. Take just enough so she doesn't notice until it's too late.
> —Cara.
The world shattered.
Nysa's fingers trembled so violently the parchment nearly slipped from her grasp. She clutched it tighter, her nails digging into the paper, leaving crescent-shaped marks.
Cara.
Her best friend. The one who had held her hand when she cried, who had whispered secrets in the dark, who had sworn, "No matter what, I'll always be on your side."
And Kaeli— her tormentor, the one who had always looked at her with those cold, mocking eyes.
They had done this to her.
The missing savings—the coins she had scraped together for months, hidden beneath the loose floorboard near her bed. The ruined dress—the one Cara had pressed into her hands with a too-bright smile, saying, "You'll look stunning in this at the celebration!" The way Kaeli had smirked as she left for the palace, tossing one last glance over her shoulder—knowing.
It wasn't bad luck.
It wasn't an accident.
It was calculated. Cruel.
A knife twisted in her chest, so sharp she gasped, her free hand flying to her heart as if she could physically tear the betrayal out.
She had defended Cara. Trusted her. "She wouldn't do that," Nysa had insisted, voice trembling but certain. "I know her."
And this was her reward.
The note slipped from her fingers, fluttering to the floor like a dead leaf. Nysa staggered back, her legs buckling beneath her, until the edge of the stool beside the water basin struck the back of her knees. She collapsed onto it, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps.
A sob clawed its way up her throat—hot, furious, humiliating. She pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling it.
No.
She wouldn't cry. Not here. Not now.
But the betrayal burned, spreading through her veins like poison, searing every memory, every laugh, every whispered promise.
Her fingers curled into fists so tight her nails bit into her palms.
There were no words. No excuses left.
Only pain.
And something else—something dark and hungry, rising like a beast from the ashes of her trust.
Rage.
Resolve.
A slow, shuddering breath escaped her lips.
Then—
Nysa stood.
Her reflection in the water basin's surface was a stranger: eyes glistening, jaw set, mouth a thin, bloodless line.
---
The moment Nysa entered the house, the air shifted. Kaeli's mocking laughter still echoed faintly in her ears, but Nysa had more pressing things on her mind.
Kaeli's door was shut, but muffled laughter seeped through the wood. Nysa didn't knock. She shoved it open hard enough for the handle to hit the wall with a crack.
Nysa held up the crumpled note between them. "Care to explain this?"
Kaeli didn't even turn around. "Oh, that?" She shrugged, meeting Nysa's eyes in the mirror. "Must've fallen out by accident."
"Bullshit." Nysa's voice was quiet, but it shook. "You planned it with Cara. You knew I borrowed that dress. You knew how long I'd saved up from the shop just to have something nice for once. And you made sure I'd walk into that banquet looking like a fool."
Kaeli shrugged, examining her nails. "You were going to waste it on some silly gown anyway."
"It wasn't yours to take!" The words burst out sharper than she intended. "Why do you even hate me this much?"
Kaeli's smirk wavered. For a second, she looked almost uncertain—then she laughed, brittle and sharp. "Maybe I just wanted to see if you'd finally snap."
Something in Nysa broke.
The slap rang out before she even realized she'd moved. Kaeli's head jerked to the side, a red mark blooming across her cheek.
Kaeli lunged up, fury flashing in her eyes, and struck back—harder. The force sent Nysa stumbling, her knees hitting the floor.
"Pathetic." Kaeli loomed over her, voice dripping with venom. "You cling to that pitiful little dignity of yours like it makes you special. Newsflash—it doesn't. You're still just the charity case Father tolerates out of guilt."
.
.