You have a week.
That was all the note said.
The writing was messy, like someone had scribbled in a hurry. There was no seal, no sign, no brand. Only the weight of their command.
It wasn't fair, Serenya thought. How could she possibly find anything in just a week?
The Captain seemed to already be onto her. She needed more time to gain his trust.
Her fingers clenched until the parchment was nothing but a crumpled ball. A week. Seven days. To gain his trust, to pry out the secrets he's been hiding and to save her family's name. This was a risk she hadn't agreed to before. But there was no way to deny or argue against them. They found her when it suited them, not when she sought them.
Last night still haunted her: the click of the lock, his gaze pinning her in place, her hands holding the papers, her lie. A laughable one. It was a miracle she escaped unscathed. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that he had given her an obvious second chance-and maybe the last one.
Serenya tucked away the note, making a mental reminder to dispose of it when she gets the chance. Her thoughts betrayed her for a moment, wandering back to her family. What must they be doing now? Elira's soft laughter and Calen's stubbom pout. Do they forgive her? They must miss her dearly like she misses them. if everything somehow goes as planned, she could be back home by the end of the week. But how, what plan?
She blinked hard, forcing her gaze upward to stop the tears. This wasn't the time. She had chosen to do this. For them.
She smoothened her skirt, straightened her shoulders and adopted the docile servitude into her expression. She could not show the thunder that is clawing inside her chest.
The manor hummed with the evening preparation when she found Brisa carrying a tray towards the kitchens. Marta's voice carried from upstairs, making sure everything was in order. Serenya hadn't taken five steps towards the kitchens herself when a voice cut down the hallway.
"Rhyn."
Her heart jolted, slamming hard against her ribs. Captain. There was no doubt. That was his voice. Was he back already? Why is he calling her? She turned, slowly. It was him.
He stood there, his tall and imposing figure in the middle of the hallway. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Come with me."
Serenya bowed her head and murmured a soft, "Yes, sir," and walked toward him. He turned and gestured her to follow him. She did, walking a few steps behind. The parchment weighed heavy as a stone in her pocket. Darian led through the halls, the I silence broken only by the echo of his boots on the floor. Servants hurried past-some looking at the floor, some staring at her- but the Captain didn't slow his pace. Serenya did not dare ask where they were going, afraid her voice would break. Her throat was dry and her palms damp.
When he did stop, they were right infront of his study. Her blood turned cold.
The new lock hung on the door, gleaming like polished brass against the dark wood. The Captain opened the door with a key he kept attached to a chain on his coat. He stepped inside and held the door open. "Come," he ordered.
She obeyed.
The study smelled the same as last night, slightly warmer due to the sunlight shining in. The desk was barren-not the mess she had left last night. Everything had been replaced, stacked and hidden away.
Darian crossed to the desk and pulled out a drawer. He reached for a stack of parchment tied neatly. Taking a seat on his chair, he motioned her to sit across from him. "Come, sit." She did as she was told.
"Do you know why I have brought you here?", he asked, his voice low and calm. Serenya forced herself to meet his gaze. Faltering would mean guilt. As far as he knew, she had nothing to be guilty about.
"I'm not sure, sir.", she said softly. Then, "Is it because of my carelessness last night?"
She knew it was crazy to bring it up, that was exactly what he wanted. But it would have been suspicious if she ignored it or acted unaware.
Darian's eyes didn't waver, instead resting on her with a weight that made her chest tighten. He leaned back slightly in his chair, gazing at her as if measuring the nature of her soul. "Carelessness?" His voice was soft, almost deceptively. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it was something different. Something much more intentional. You wouldn't tell me if I asked you now, would you?"
Serenya felt her throat go dry. She pressed her hands together in her lap and her brows furrowed. "I have no way of proving anything to you, sir. It is up to you to believe me or not. I will be out of here if you ask me to." Risky, she thought, but necessary right now.
A thin, almost imperceptible smile brushed his lips. "Good," he said. "Because carelessness has consequences here. And mistakes cannot be undone. I do not believe you but I have no way of finding out the truth. So I will keep you here, right infront of me."
She felt her heart thud. He reached for the parchment and took out one. It was a letter. "Do you understand the importance of letters? The information lying within these pages? Empires could rise and crumble merely on the strength of a few characters of ink on parchment. A message delivered, a decree issued-thats all it takes. And the deciding factor is the hands that it falls into. Do you understand me?"
Serenya swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."
"Good," he said quietly, "I want you to transcribe these letters. Be sure to copy them precisely as they appear in the originals and enter them into my book."
She nodded, "I will try my best to copy them accurately."
He cut her off, "Your best won't be enough Precision, observation, discretion. These are not merely words. They are the difference between survival and ruin."
She nodded, his stare pressing her down. Every instinct in her screamed to look, to memorize the contents but she dared not to. She wondered why he was even entrusting her with this. He must have realized she was looking for something in this very room. Is this some ploy to lure me out?
The Captain set the letter down and leaned forward on his elbows. "Do not mistake my patience for leniency," he said, his tone calm. "I have no tolerance for foolishness. You will follow my instructions exactly. Every word, every stroke, every detail."
"Yes, sir," she whispered again, the word barely escaping her lips.
He stood, moving with the authority of a predator, and circled the desk slowly. Serenya's eyes followed his every movement, her heart hammering. He stopped behind her chair, close enough that she could feel the chill of his presence at the nape of her neck.
"Do not fail me, Rhyn," he murmured, voice low and carrying something akin to warning. "Because if you do, you will not find mercy here anymore.....or anywhere."
Her hands shook as she reached for the quill. She set to work, copying each letter with painstaking care, aware of his gaze over her shoulder with every line. Every word had become a battlefield, every mark a test.
Time stretched unnaturally as she went on. The Captain, seemingly satisfied by her beginning, sat down again in his chair and brought out another record of parchment to complete another task. The study remained silent except for the scratching of her quill and the turn of parchment. Serenya could feel the pulse of danger through the air, all while the note in her pocket weighed down her soul.