I'd barely finished brushing down the black stallion when the peace started slipping through my fingers. The stables smelled like warm hay and leather, like a slice of sanity in a world that felt stranger by the day. I ran my palm over the horse's neck, trying to memorize the calm — like saving a breath before diving underwater.
I knew Madam Ann would start calling for us soon. Dinner prep, laundry, lessons, chores — same old rhythm. So I walked back toward the mansion, brushing straw from my dress.
Emily was already at the entrance, waving both arms like she was directing a plane to land.
"Valeri! Hurry up," she called, grinning despite the sweat on her brow. "If we finish early, we might actually get a full hour before dinner."
I jogged the last few steps, rolling my eyes. "You're such a timekeeper. I swear you should've been born with a watch strapped to your wrist."
She laughed and pulled me inside. Neither of us knew what was happening a few miles away in the woods — water surging where there shouldn't have been water, a bright blue lake glowing like a jewel under a hidden waterfall. It rippled with energy and flashed once, a brilliant light twisting like a living thing before it disappeared, leaving nothing but calm water and silence.
The next morning, the mansion buzzed like an overworked hive. Servants darted from room to room. I had laundry duty today, which meant a mountain of wet fabric and aching fingers.
I dunked another sheet into the tub and muttered, "I really, really need to invent a washing machine. My hands are going to look eighty before I'm twenty-five."
No one answered — just the slap of wet linen. Then the sky darkened.
I glanced out the window. "It's about to rain? Seriously? It wasn't supposed to rain."
I wasn't a weather forecaster, but since landing in this world, I'd weirdly been able to read the climate like a book. This wasn't right.
The wind picked up, strong enough to snap clothespins and nearly rip the sheets — and me — away. "Oh no you don't!" I hissed, fighting the gusts.
Emily and two other maids came running, hair and skirts whipping. "Valeri, grab the line!"
A male servant reached us just in time, grabbing my arm and hauling me back before the wind could take me. The door slammed shut behind us with a violent clatter, and the storm broke.
Rain poured like the sky had ripped open. Anyone outside now would be lost, or worse.
"I guess these clothes will be for another day," Emily panted, leaning against the door.
"Yeah," I said, still catching my breath.
We hung what we could on the laundry-room balcony and shut the windows. The master came back, eyes narrowing at the downpour like it was a personal insult. No one went outside for the rest of the day.
By nightfall the storm finally calmed. Everyone drifted off to sleep. I tried to, but sleep came like a trap door.
The nightmare started again.
I was five, crouched in a closet. Shouting. Glass breaking. I clutched a ragged wolf plushie to my chest. In the shadows, a baby wolf with nine tails watched me — silent, its silver eyes glowing.
"I didn't ask to get pregnant," my mother's voice hissed.
"I told you to get rid of it," my father snapped back. "Now we're starving. I'm bankrupt—"
I peeked out, and my mother's gaze landed on me like a blade.
"You brat. What are you doing up? You're supposed to be sleeping."
"I was hungry, Mummy," little me whispered.
"You see? Always hungry," my father snarled. An apple flew at me from the table. They'd ordered takeout but wouldn't give me any. I picked up the apple with tiny hands, tears in my eyes.
The scene shifted. eleven. My mother had borrowed a luxury car, hired a fake driver, and warned me not to mention how we really lived. We went to a mansion for some "friend's" party.
My dress was too fancy, too revealing. I kept tugging at it. My head hurt but I said nothing. My mother's eyes flicked to me from across the room, a strange smirk on her lips.
"Sweetie, what's wrong?" she asked, voice soft—too soft.
Older me watching whispered, "No, please, not again..."
She led little me up a maze of stairs. "Just lie down, okay? Sleep it off."
The door shut. Click. Locked.
Another click. Steps.
"Well, she wasn't lying. You're a beauty, just like your mother," a man said.
"Mum?" Little me whispered, thinking it was her.
Rough hands. A scream "LET ME GO, LET ME GO". A slap. Older me clawed at the dream, trying to wake up. Tears burned my eyes.
"Stop, STOP, STOOOOOP!" I screamed from her eyes, not able to stop it from happening again. Her clothes were torn; she was forcefully held to the bed.
When it was over, my mother came in, phone chiming. She looked at me with disgust, then satisfaction. Another scene flickered: blood on a knife, a little girl stabbing and stabbing. The scene changed; another body was nearby. 13-year-old me just killed my parents with the pain of the assault she had to endure since that party. Her mother continued to use me , she turned me into an underage prostitute, selling my body to older men, pedophiles, to make money.
I couldn't breathe. "Wake up," I begged.
I jolted awake, heart pounding, sweat soaking my nightclothes. My eyes felt empty.
Outside, thunder rolled. The lake in the forest churned red like blood, then went calm again, as if it had grieved with me.
The next morning, I schooled my face into a poker mask, answering my tutor's questions like nothing had happened. Inside, my thoughts were a storm.
Sir Lorcan raised an eyebrow. "Your focus is slipping, Valeri."
I managed a smile. "Just a bad night. What were you saying?"
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Do you know the truth of the Seven Kings?"
"No. Should I?"
"They are brothers," he said simply. "Once, they were princes under a god-king — their father. A tyrant who burned villages for sport and slaughtered innocents for disobedience. They united, overthrew him, and tore his empire apart, each taking a piece. But the blood of a god-king stains everything it touches. None of them are innocent, and none of them have forgotten the throne they broke."
A chill ran through me. "Sounds like a family dinner I'd want to skip."
He almost smiled. "Indeed. But history has a way of returning."
I thanked him, gathering my books. As I walked past the window, something flickered at the edge of the forest — a shape, or a glow, just beyond the mist.
I wiped at the fog on the glass, heart beating faster. Nothing. Gone.
"Get out of your head, Valeri," I muttered to myself. "You need sleep. If only that damn nightmare would leave me the f**k alone."
Voices drifted from the kitchen. I squared my shoulders and followed them.