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The heavy door clicked shut, the sound echoing through the silence of this cathedral-sized bedroom, leaving me alone like a final sentencing.
"I am going to go get him."
The words echoed, bouncing around my mind like a loose coin in a dryer. Zander Voronoff, the Ice Duke, the man who had terrified an entire room of people into submission just hours ago, was currently walking to the East Tower to retrieve a five-year-old.
A five-year-old who was almost mute, traumatized, and viewed his uncle as a literal monster, and for me, a personification of death.
[SYSTEM CALCULATION: PROBABILITY OF SUCCESSFUL INTERACTION...] [...CALCULATING...] [RESULT: 0.4%.] [SYSTEM PREDICTS CRITICAL SCENARIO FAILURE. PREPARE FOR IMPACT.] This is going to be a disaster.
"Tell me about it," I muttered, swinging my legs off the bed, again.
The System wasn't wrong. Zander didn't know how to talk to a child. He barely knew how to speak to me, and I was technically an adult. He treated people like equations. If a variable was "inefficient," he solved it through any means or removed it without an ounce of care. But Kaelen wasn't an equation; he was a terrified little boy who needed reassurance, a hand to hold, not "remediation."
I stood up. The dizziness was still there—a soft grey fuzz at the edges of my vision—but the bread and broth had done their work. It's a miracle, I almost ran out with my 16% stamina. My legs held, though they felt like they were made of damp straw.
I looked down at myself. The white cotton nightgown was lovely, soft, and warm, but in the flickering firelight, it was completely transparent. I couldn't run out into the hallway like this. I couldn't save Kaelen, looking like a Victorian ghost. I needed something more useful than this, sort of an armor or decent at least
"Come on," I whispered, pacing the thick wool rug. "Where are the clothes?"
As if summoned by my anxiety, there was a frantic, scuffling knock at the door.
"Enter!" I called out.
The door cracked open, and three maids spilled into the room. They moved in a tight, huddled formation, like penguins in a blizzard. They were terrified. But unlike the morning, where their terror had been directed at the Duke, this time their wide, white-rimmed eyes were fixed solely on me.
I took a single step forward, and they collectively flinched back.
"G-Governess!" the lead maid squeaked. She was holding a pile of fabric as if it were a holy relic, like a ticking bomb. "We... we have brought the... the 'apparel'! A-as ordered! Please… don't…"
I paused. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, thick with a strange, suffocating tension. They were afraid of me. Me. The "garbage like girl." The thief who should've been reprimanded.
[SYSTEM ALERT: REPUTATION UPDATE.] [REPUTATION (HOUSEHOLD STAFF): 'THE DUKE'S MAD DOG'.]
[DESCRIPTION: YOU ARE THE ONE WHO SURVIVED SUCH INTERROGATION. YOU ARE THE ONE WHO WHISPERED IN THE DUKE'S EAR AND SENT THE HEAD BUTLER TO THE DUNGEONS. YOU ARE UNPREDICTABLE. YOU ARE DANGEROUS.]
Mad dog? I almost laughed. I was a girl in a nightgown who had just sobbed and cried over a bowl of warm… fresh soup. But to them, I was the executioner's favorite axe.
"Thank you," I said, trying to keep my voice soft, my tone low and steady. "Please. Just put them on the bed."
The maids scurried forward, deposited the clothes, and retreated to the door as if the bed was caught on fire, the floorboards were made of lava.
"Is there... anything else... G-Governess?" the lead maid stammered, clutching her apron.
"No," I said. "Just go."
They didn't wait to be told twice. The door slammed shut, and I was alone again.
I turned to the clothes. I expected the grey, scratchy wool uniform of a servant's uniform, the drab, stiff, punishing fabric I had worn before. I reached out and touched the pile.
It was not wool. Instead, I touched silk. A fine, deep midnight-blue silk and soft, brushed cotton. And... was that cashmere?
It was simple, with no lace or frills, but the fabric was exquisite. It was the kind of dress a noblewoman would wear to a private library, not something a servant would wear to scrub floors. I at least know a thing or two about how a staff and a real noble would typically dress, in such an occurrence, and this is not what I expect! A gasp of relief escaped my lips.
[ITEM ACQUIRED: 'THE LADY'S DAY DRESS'.] [QUALITY: EPIC.] [ STAT'S +15 AUTHORITY, +DIGNITY, -20 SERVANT VISIBILITY] [NOTE: THIS WAS LIKELY PULLED FROM THE 'GUEST WARDROBE'. IT FITS YOUR 'REPUTATION' BETTER THAN YOUR BUDGET.]
I pulled it on. It fit perfectly, the high collar and long sleeves giving me a silhouette that commanded respect. It was warm, soft, and had a faint lavender scent. I pulled on the thick stockings and the smooth leather boots they had brought.
I caught my reflection in the massive, gilt-framed mirror over the vanity. The girl staring back at me didn't look like a beggar anymore, nor a thief. Her face was still pale, her bright blue-tinged eyes huge and shadowed, and her silver-blonde hair was still a bit wild, but the dress changed everything. It gave her lines. It gave her dignity. It made her look like someone who belonged in this capacious room, not a dungeon.
"Okay," I whispered to the reflection. "Time to govern."
I turned, threw open the door, and ran.
The hallway outside the guest wing was a different world from the main kitchen, halls, and servants' wing. Here, the floors were covered in plush runners, muffling the sound of each step I took with my boots. Crystal sconces held magical lights that didn't flicker or smoke. It was warm.
I ignored the servants I passed; I wouldn't care as they pressed themselves flat against the walls. Terrified shadows as the "Mad Dog" flew by.
I had no idea where I was going, but I knew the layout of the castle from the novel. The East Tower was... that way. Across the main atrium, past the portrait gallery.
I picked up my skirts and ran.
I reached the top of the Grand Staircase, the one that overlooked the main entrance hall, and stopped.
I heard footsteps. Heavy, measured, familiar footsteps. And silence. I looked down.
Below, Zander Voronoff was crossing the black marble floor of the entrance hall. He was walking with his usual, terrifying grace, his long strides eating up the distance. He was back in his shirtsleeves, having seemingly forgotten he had burned his coat.
And in his arms... was Kaelen.
But he wasn't holding Kaelen, not even a cradle. Not really. He wasn't carrying him on his hip like a normal person carries a child. He was holding Kaelen like a bomb. Or perhaps, like a costly, very fragile vase that he suspected might burst.
He held the boy slightly away from his body, his large hands gripping Kaelen under the armpits like he was transporting uranium without an instruction manual. Kaelen's legs dangled uselessly in the air, his arms pinned to his sides, stiff as a board. The child was catatonic with terror, his eyes squeezed shut, his face a mask of pale, frozen horror. He wasn't moving. He almost seemed like he wasn't even breathing. He was just a stiff, silver-haired plank of wood being transported by a giant.
Zander looked stressed. His brow was furrowed. He was walking a little too fast—a man trying to finish a task before it exploded in his face.
"Oh, my god," I breathed.
I ran down the stairs, my boots echoing, making a soft thud-thud-thud on the carpeted steps.
Zander stopped. He looked up, and for a split second, He saw me, the Ice Duke, for the first time since I'd met him, looked genuinely relieved to see me.
"Governess," he said. He didn't shout, but his voice carried up the stairs. "You are remedial."
"Dressed," I corrected, breathless, reaching the bottom landing. "I am dressed."
I walked toward them. Kaelen's eyes snapped open at the sound of my voice. He saw me—the blue dress, the clean face. He blinked, not recognizing me for a split second. I wasn't the "soot-monster" from the tower anymore, until he saw my eyes.
And then he squirmed. It was a tiny movement, a kick of his dangling legs.
"Put him down," I said, reaching them. I didn't bow. I didn't curtsy. I just reached out.
"He is 'transported'," Zander said stiffly. "We are 'in transit'."
"He's not a briefcase, Your Grace," I snapped. "You're holding him like a sack of potatoes. Put him down."
The Duke looked at the child dangling from his hands, then at me. "He refused to walk," Zander stated defensively. "He 'froze'. It was inefficient to wait."
"He was paralyzed with fear because a man akin to a Grim Reaper walked into his room!"
Zander stiffened. "I am not—"
"Put. Him. Down."
Zander lowered his arms. Kaelen's boots touched the marble floor. The second—the microsecond—his boot touched the marble, he bolted. He didn't run away or through the door. He ran to me.
He slammed into my legs, burying his face in the skirt of my silken dress. His small hands grabbed handfuls of the expensive fabric, clutching it so tight his knuckles turned white. He was trembling so hard I could feel him through the layers of silk and cotton. He hid behind me, putting my body between himself and his uncle.
Zander looked at his empty hands. His face twitched—a complicated, awkward movement. Then he looked at Kaelen, who was effectively using me as a human shield.
"He seems to have 'located' you," He muttered.
I put a hand on Kaelen's head. His hair was soft, but matted with dirt. I smoothed it down, letting my hand rest there, a heavy, warm weight. "It's okay," I whispered to the top of his head. "I'm here. I told you I'd come back."
Kaelen didn't speak. He just nodded into my skirt, a frantic, jerky movement.
I looked up at the Duke. "Where," I asked, "were you taking him?"
Zander clasped his hands behind his back, regaining his composure. "To the guest wing. An Adjoining chamber to yours. It seemed 'logical' to keep the 'assets' in proximity."
Assets. We were assets now. Well, better than "vermin." It's such an upgrade.
"Adjoining mine?" I asked.
"Yes. There is a connecting door," he said. "It will allow for 'monitoring'. Without 'interference'."
He meant he could put us in a box and not have to look at us. "Fine," I said. "Show us."
The walk to the guest wing was absurd. Zander walked in front, like a vanguard. I walked three paces behind him. And Kaelen walked attached to me. He refused to let go of my skirt, crabbing along sideways, keeping one hand gripped on the fabric, his eyes darting around the hallway as if assassins were hiding out of the vases.
We reached the door to the rooms. Zander pointed to the door next to it. "There," he said. "It is prepared."
He opened the door to the child's chamber. I peered inside. It was nice, clean, and warm. It was a smaller version of the other guest room, with a bed, a fireplace (lit), and a rug- but empty. It had no toys. No books. No color. It was a room for an adult, just a smaller noble cell.
"Is it acceptable?" Zander asked. He sounded oddly unsure. He was looking at me, waiting for the assessment.
"It's warm," I said. "That's a start."
I looked down at Kaelen. "Do you want to go in?"
Kaelen peeked around my hip. He saw the fire and the bed, and shook his head violently. He pointed at the other door. He didn't let go of my dress.
"He wants to stay with me," I said.
"That is inefficient," Zander said with a little sigh. "The beds are singular. The—"
"He's scared," I cut him off. "He's not going to sleep alone in a strange room five minutes after being abducted by a giant."
Zander bristled. "I did not 'abduct'—"
"We're staying in my room," I declared. "Tonight. Only until he stabilizes."
I didn't wait for permission. I turned and opened the door to my room. Kaelen scurried in instantly, diving for the area near the fireplace, just like he had in the tower.
I stood in the doorway, looking back at the Duke. He was standing in the hall. Alone. He looked lost.
He had fixed the problem. He had provided the rooms. And yet, the child had run from him.
For a second, I felt a pang of... something. Pity? No. Understanding. He really, truly, had no idea what he was doing. He was trying to solve a calculus problem, and the problem was crying and hugging a skirt.
"Your Grace," I said softly.
He looked up. His obsidian eyes met mine. "Thank you," I said. "For getting him."
He stared at me. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked at the empty doorway where Kaelen had vanished. "It was the 'policy'," he muttered.
He turned on his heel. "I will send dinner. For two."
He walked away, his strides long and fast, fleeing the scene of the awkwardness.
I watched him go- the tyrant, the 'Ice Duke." He was terrifying and was dangerous. But as I watched him retreat down the long, empty hall, he just looked like a man who was very, very bad at this, being a simple human being.
Click. I stepped into the room and closed the door.
I turned around. Kaelen was standing by the fire. He wasn't cowering. He was standing, looking at me. His magenta eyes weren't filled with hatred anymore. They were filled with curiosity.
He pointed a small, trembling finger at the door I had just locked. Then he pointed at me. And then... he did something that stopped my heart.
He opened his mouth. His lips were dry. His voice was a rusty, unused whisper. It wasn't a word. It was barely a sound. "...Ba..."
I froze. "What?" I whispered, dropping to my knees.
He looked at the door again, his brow furrowed in a tiny, serious frown. "...Ba... Bad..."
He looked at me. "...Man."
"Bad man," he whispered.
It was his first words. My heart twisted. His first words in months. And they were a judgment on his uncle.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I gave him a weak, watery smile. "Yeah," I whispered. "Yeah, Kaelen. He's a slightly bad man."
Kaelen looked at me. He hesitated. Then, he leaned into my hand as I brushed his hair back, as we shared just a little moment. "...You?" he whispered.
Who are you?
He was asking what I was.
I looked at this child. This future villain. This breaker of worlds. I looked at the small hand clutching my sleeve. "Me?" I said. "I'm... I'm the Governess."
Kaelen stared at me. He seemed to weigh the word. He looked at the fire, at the bread on the table, at the soft bed. He looked back at me and gave me a decisive, solemn nod.
"...Guv... ness," he tested the word. He nodded. He accepted the title.
He walked over to the rug, grabbed a pillow from the bed, dragged it to the front of the fire, and curled up on it. He wasn't hiding anymore. He was just... resting.
I watched him as the System pinged softly in my head.
[SCENARIO COMPLETE: 'THE RETRIEVAL'.] [KAELEN VORONOFF: TRUST LEVEL INCREASED.] [CURRENT TRUST: -50 / 100] [STATUS: CAUTIOUSLY OPTIMISTIC.]
I leaned my head against the doorframe and slid down until I hit the floor, exhausted to my core. I was overwhelmed. I was terrified of tomorrow, but as I watched the silver-haired boy sleep by the fire, I knew one thing.
I had survived Day One.
(End of Chapter 13)
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