This morning, Duke Julian and young Miss Lily were to depart for the kingdom of Elyndor. The palace was already abuzz with movement, boots tapping against polished floors, servants shuffling through tasks as if the world might tilt without them.
"Emily, clean the main hall," the head maid called, her sharp voice slicing through the noise. Her black hair was tightly coiled in a bun, no strand out of place, just like her temper. She was the one who had found me half-starved on the streets and brought me into this place. The one who gave me a chance, even if it meant scrubbing floors until my hands bled.
"Yes, ma'am," I murmured, grabbing the empty wooden bucket and heading toward the well.
Miss Lily had been unusually kind these past few days. It surprised me. She was only ten, yet carried herself with a quiet dignity that outshone most nobles I'd met. I'd assumed she'd be just like the rest—spoiled and cold. But she wasn't. There was something gentle beneath her stillness, something far older than her years.
As I heaved the heavy bucket into the well, a pair of voices drifted toward me—maids, speaking in hushed tones that grew sharper with each word.
"Girl, where did you get that?" one asked.
"Oh, this? Found it in that empty room full of jewelry."
"Really? Which room? Maybe I could find something to sell."
"The room of the Duchess," came the answer, casual as a whisper.
I froze.
"I thought that room was locked," the first maid said.
"It is. But the head maid gave me the key to clean it. I saw some jewelry and figured… I'd borrow a few things."
"Borrow? You mean steal."
"Whatever. It's not like anyone will notice they're gone."
"Do you still have the key?"
"What's it to you?"
"Don't play coy. You still have it, don't you?"
A pause. Then: "If you're going to judge me, then maybe you don't want it."
"Of course I want it!"
I didn't wait to hear more. That room—it was sacred. I'd seen Miss Lily sitting there more than once, curled in the corner, reading through crumbling books about her parents. The late duke and duchess. She never said much, but I could see it in her eyes. She missed them deeply. Maybe she just wanted to feel close to them again, to remember them. And these girls—these thieves—they made my stomach churn.
The bucket slipped from my hands and clattered to the stone path, water sloshing over the edge. I didn't stop to retrieve it. I ran toward the voices instead.
The maids turned just as I lunged for the key, snatching it from one of their hands.
"Hey!" the girl shrieked. "What gives you the right—?"
"You're the one stealing!" I shouted, trembling. "How dare you? You talk like you're entitled to it!"
Her eyes narrowed. "Don't act innocent. I've seen how close you are to Miss Lily. Don't pretend you're not just sucking up to steal her things. What else would a street rat like you want?"
My breath caught in my throat. "I would never steal from Miss Lily!"
"Oh, sure," another maid sneered, grabbing my wrist. "You think we're fools? You think you're better than us?"
The first girl grabbed my hair, yanking hard, while the other tried to wrestle the key from my grip.
"You still think you're above us?" she spat. "Let me tell you something, girl—you either steal or you starve in this world. No one cares how honest you are."
Their hands left bruises, their nails drew blood, and their words sank into my skin like thorns—bitter, sharp, and far too close to the truth. But still, I clung to the key like it was a sword, the only weapon I had to protect Miss Lily and the memory of her family.
When they were finally gone, laughter and curses trailing off behind them, I slumped to the ground. My arms trembled, legs aching, but I forced myself upright. My breath came in shallow gasps.
"EMILY! WHERE ARE YOU?" a voice rang out, urgent and sharp.
The head maid.
She spotted me and rushed over, her usual sternness replaced by genuine panic. "Oh my god! What happened to you?" she cried, slipping an arm around my waist and guiding me toward a nearby bench. I collapsed onto it, grateful for the support, even as pain flared in my side.
Her dark eyes searched mine. "Tell me. What happened?"
"Some maids… beat me up," I whispered.
"WHAT?" she barked, already bristling.
"They stole jewelry. From the late duchess's room."
The color drained from her face. "WHO?"
"The girl. The one you gave the key to."
She blinked, as if trying to process the betrayal. Then her jaw clenched. "Unacceptable," she said coldly. "She'll be thrown out before sunrise."
I just nodded, hoping the jewelry would make its way back to Miss Lily, to where it belonged.
That night, an unusual tension spread through the servants' quarters. The head maid summoned all the maids to gather in their shared bedroom for an emergency meeting. Candlelight flickered against the walls, casting long shadows over anxious faces. No one spoke. The air was thick with unease.
The head maid paced slowly, the click of her shoes echoing like a metronome of judgment.
"Someone," she began, her voice low and icy, "has been stealing from the late duchess's room."
A wave of murmurs swept through the group—fear, confusion, denial—but no one dared speak loud enough to draw attention.
The head maid didn't need a confession. She already knew.
She turned sharply and walked to the corner of the room where the girl stood—the same one who had mocked me earlier. Without a word, she yanked open the drawer beside the girl's bed. Gold, silver, and precious stones glittered in the candlelight.
Gasps filled the room.
The head maid didn't flinch. "You're fired."
"No—please, Ms.—I need this job!" the girl cried, her voice cracking as she dropped to her knees. "Please!"
"Guards," the head maid snapped. "Throw her out."
As the heavy steps of the guards approached, the girl stood quickly, her voice venomous now. "Wait! You think I care? I don't need this job. There are better ones out there—better than working for a murderer and a human trafficker!"
A stunned silence followed her outburst.
The guards grabbed her arms, but she shook them off, grabbing her things with shaking hands.
"You'll see," she spat. "I'll find something better than this cursed place."
Everyone except the headmaid stared with death glares. I have the feeling that in these past days, until I'm working at this mansion, my life will be a living hell.
Ever since the girl was caught stealing the jewelry, everything changed.
The other maids—those who once barely acknowledged me—turned cruel. They spat bitter words under their breath, shoved me in the halls, and threatened to leave their posts. "We're the only ones keeping this house running," one hissed in passing. "If anyone finds out you told, we'll make sure no maid ever sets foot in this place again. You'll be the one scrubbing chamber pots alone."
So I kept quiet.
It's been three days since the owner left, and each one has stretched longer than the last, heavy with dread. I worked in silence, watching every step, swallowing every insult. But even in this suffocating silence, I held on to one thing.
The note.
Miss Lily's room was quiet as I dusted the shelves and folded the covers on her small, well-kept bed. My eyes wandered to the vanity where she once sat brushing her hair, humming softly to herself. That's where I found it—her last note, carefully folded beneath the mirror.
Dispose of the evidence. I hope you'll put my teachings to good use.
She'd left it just before leaving with Duke Julian. I held the slip of paper between my fingers again, reading her neat handwriting until it blurred.
She was right.
I had to be smart. Smarter than them. I had learned to read and write because of her. Now I would use it—not just to survive, but to fight back. Not with fists, not with screams, but with words. With knowledge.
After finishing my chores, I slipped into the library, my heart racing with anticipation. Rows of books towered around me like silent allies. I scanned every spine, searching. There had to be something—something that could help me.
And then, tucked between a legal volume and a dusty tome on estate records, I found it.
A perfect book.