"I gave her a clean room to scrub. What I really wanted her to feel was how small I could make her, one order at a time."
— Astrid
025.
Seyra stepped into the Lady Royal chambers, and the first thing she noticed was how perfect everything looked. Nothing was out of place. Not a speck of dust could be seen anywhere.
Astrid sat on a velvet chair near the window, watching her with a smile that never quite reached her eyes.
"There she is," Astrid began, stretching the words out slowly. "My dear sister, who thought she could play games with my crown and still walk around like nothing happened."
Seyra said nothing, keeping her eyes down.
"Look at you." Astrid’s gaze dragged over her uniform, her messy hair, and the dirt still clinging to her hands from scrubbing floors all morning. "A maid through and through. It’s almost sad, really. You had a chance to be more than this, and you threw it back at me like garbage."
Seyra kept her expression blank.
"But let’s forget about that... for now." She clapped her hands with a smirk. "I called you here because my room needs cleaning."
Seyra glanced around. The floors gleamed. The bed was made with perfect corners. Every surface shone. There was nothing to clean.
"The room is already clean," Seyra said carefully.
Astrid blinked, then burst out laughing. "Oh my goodness, how clumsy of me."
She stood and swept her arm across the vanity table in one swift motion, sending bottles, brushes, and jars crashing to the floor. Powder scattered across the carpet in a cloud.
"What a mistake," Astrid whined, her voice dripping with false innocence.
Before Seyra could react, Astrid grabbed a makeup brush from the mess and hurled it straight at her.
Seyra jerked to the side, but the sharp metal edge caught her cheek, slicing a thin line across her skin.
Pain flared, hot and sudden. Seyra pressed her hand to her face, feeling warmth seep between her fingers.
"Oh, sorry," Astrid batted her lashes sweetly. "My hand slipped."
"Your hand didn’t slip." Seyra’s voice shook with barely contained fury. "Why are you doing this?"
Astrid shrugged and sank back into her chair, crossing one leg over the other.
"Watch your tone with me. Just because you spread your legs for the Alpha to earn his approval doesn’t mean you get to speak to me however you like."
Seyra couldn’t believe it. "So that’s all you think I have to offer him? My body?"
Astrid rose slowly, crossing the room until she stood close enough that Seyra could smell her expensive perfume.
"What do you mean, ’think’?" Astrid asked, looking her dead in the eye. "I know you have nothing else to offer."
Seyra’s fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Red growled low inside her, ready to lunge forward, every instinct screaming at her to fight.
Astrid’s eyes flicked downward, catching the brief flash of gold in Seyra’s irises.
Her smile widened.
"Oh, look at that." She clapped her hands, delighted. "Even your little wolf wants a piece of me."
She grabbed Seyra by the collar and yanked her closer, her own eyes flashing crimson red.
"Back away, Red," Seyra whispered internally, her heart pounding.
"She’s annoying us on purpose," Red snarled. "Let me handle her."
"Her wolf is stronger than you," Seyra warned. "If we fight now, we lose, and then we both get punished on top of it."
Red hesitated, snarling, before slowly retreating into the back of Seyra’s mind.
Astrid laughed and shoved Seyra hard enough that she stumbled backward and hit the floor.
"That’s what I thought," she quipped, satisfaction thick in her voice. "Keep your wolf in line, Seyra. Or I’ll let Nyx tear her apart."
"Noted," Seyra muttered through gritted teeth.
"Now clean," Astrid said, dropping back into her chair and picking up a small mirror to inspect her reflection. "Every bottle. Every speck of powder. I want this room spotless."
Seyra pushed herself to her feet, the cut on her cheek still stinging, and knelt to gather the scattered makeup.
A quiet laugh nearly escaped her as she worked.
Patience.
That was all she needed right now. She would endure this. She would endure every slap, every humiliation, and every small cruelty Astrid threw her way until the day she was strong enough to turn all of it back around.
So she scrubbed.
She wiped down the vanity, collected every shard of glass, and polished the mirror until it gleamed.
Astrid ordered her from one task to the next without pause, sending her to refold blankets that didn’t need folding, rearrange books that were already arranged, and scrub windows that had no smudges.
Seyra’s body ached with every movement. Her arms trembled from exhaustion, her stomach twisted painfully from hunger. She hadn’t eaten since the night before, and even then, it had only been a few bites snatched between tasks.
By the time Astrid ordered her to scrub the bathroom floor, Seyra could barely feel her own hands.
The bathroom, like everything else, was already spotless. Marble tiles gleamed under the chandelier light. But Seyra knelt anyway, dragging a wet cloth across the floor in slow, mechanical circles, her vision starting to blur at the edges.
When she finally finished, she pushed herself up to stand.
Black spots burst across her vision.
Her legs buckled, and for a moment, the whole world tilted sideways. She caught herself against the wall, her palm pressing flat against the cold surface, breathing hard until the darkness receded enough for her to see straight again.
Just a little longer. She could make it to dinner. She had to.
She forced her legs to carry her back into the main chamber, moving slowly and carefully, each step a small battle against her own exhaustion.
When she entered the living room, she found Astrid curled up on the chaise lounge, fast asleep, her chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths.
"She’s vulnerable," Red murmured, stirring awake again. "Strangle her now. No one would know."
Seyra almost laughed out loud at that, the sound catching in her dry throat instead.
"You’re ridiculous, Red," she whispered.
She used the quiet moment to slip out of the room instead, pulling the door shut softly behind her and leaving Astrid asleep among her spotless, perfect little things.
Seyra made it three steps down the hallway before her legs gave out completely, and she sank against the wall, sliding down until she sat on the cold floor, her whole body trembling with exhaustion and hunger.
She closed her eyes for just a moment.
Just one moment to breathe.
The sound of the palace bells rang through the hallway, echoing off the stone walls.
Seyra’s heart sank.
The Alpha was back.
That meant she needed to get to the kitchen, prepare his meal, serve him, set up his bath, and make sure everything in his chambers was ready.
There was no time to sit here and catch her breath. No time to let her body recover from a day that had already taken everything she had to give.
She just wanted to rest.
Just a few minutes. That was all she was asking for.
But the bells kept ringing, louder now, more insistent, and she knew she didn’t have the luxury of ignoring them.
Seyra forced herself up off the floor, her legs shaking beneath her. For a moment, she thought she might collapse right there in the hallway, but she caught herself against the wall and pushed forward, one unsteady step at a time, toward the kitchen.
Ruth spotted her before she even made it through the doorway.
"You look horrible," Ruth said, rushing toward her, concern etched across her face. "What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Sick?"
Seyra opened her mouth to answer, but Ophelia appeared first, cutting between them with a large tray already balanced in her hands. She shoved it into Seyra’s arms without hesitation.
"The Alpha is back," Ophelia said sharply. "Get to your work. Now."
Seyra said nothing. She gave Ruth a weak, exhausted smile, trying to reassure her, though she doubted it worked, before forcing her legs to carry her and the heavy tray toward the Alpha’s chambers.
By the time she reached his door, she was barely holding herself together. Her head throbbed with every heartbeat, and the edges of her vision kept dimming, flickering like a candle about to go out.
She knocked, balancing the tray awkwardly against her hip, and stepped inside.
Orin stood near his desk, Beta Magnus beside him, both of them mid-conversation. They turned as she entered.
Seyra forced her voice to work. "Should I take the food to the dining hall, Alpha, or leave it here?"
Orin’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. He crossed the room toward her, his steps slow and deliberate.
"What is that mark on your cheek?"
"I’m fine," Seyra murmured, bowing her head, hoping he couldn’t see how badly she was swaying on her feet.
"Eyes on me, little maid."
She lifted her head.
The room tilted violently.
The tray slipped from her hands, food and drink crashing to the floor, splattering across Orin’s boots and the hem of his robes.
"I’m sorry," Seyra gasped, already feeling herself falling, the floor rushing up to meet her. "I’m so sorry, I—"
Darkness swallowed the rest of her words.
She never felt herself hit the ground.
Someone caught her first.