"The blue one—have her hair in waves," Lisbeth ordered the two maids helping me get ready. She picked up the empty vials and tossed them into her small bag.
"I was worried you'd resist drinking them," she said, her hands caressing my face. "Remember what they gave you—always. Rid that scowl from your face. I did what every mother would do."
No mother would do what she did.
I rolled my eyes, and she pulled the strings of my corset tighter, making it harder to breathe.
I needed to leave this place somehow—far away, where they could never find me. But the count's estate was on an island, the Celestara Isles. How would I ever get out of here?
"Your father has finally decided to join us for supper, so be on your best behavior," she said as she walked out.
The maids finished curling my hair, their fingers working in silence, eyes averted. One of them… Petra, I think… placed a sapphire pendant around my neck. Its cold touch startled me, making me flinch ever so slightly.
They both immediately dropped to their knees, heads bowed.
"Forgive us, my lady."
I was horrified—but seeing the fear in their eyes, I regretted the misery I had written into them with my pen and laptop.
"I'm okay, it's fine," I said quickly, voice softer. They stood up, but didn't meet my eyes. Their heads remained bowed.
"I love the work you've done. I've never been more beautiful," I added awkwardly, trying to break the ice.
Their silence answered me more clearly than words could.
Taking the hint, I gave a small nod and turned to leave—though I wasn't exactly sure where the dining hall was.
The hallway was dimly lit, shadows stretching long across the cold stone walls. My shoes clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing louder than the last. I winced. The sound was too bold, too loud—I had to tiptoe. I needed to find the dining room quickly, before mother dearest came for me. I couldn't let myself be dragged there by my hair again.
Just before I turned the corner, something caught my eye—a portrait hung on the wall.
A painting of Iris and Rebekah, seated side by side.
I froze.
At first, I couldn't tell who was who. They looked identical—two peas in a pod. The same dark curls, the same soft jawline, the same elegant tilt of the chin.
But the eyes. The eyes never lie.
One pair was warm but wary, like they carried the weight of a thousand secrets. The other... sharp, too sharp, like polished glass ready to cut.
I stepped closer, heart pounding. I knew which one I was meant to be. But which one was I?
"You hate that portrait. Wonder what's got you staring at it with such keen admiration," a voice broke my chain of thoughts.
A young man stood a few steps away, watching me with an amused expression. He must be the brother.
"Father hates waiting," he added, turning and walking past me.
I followed.
Two guards stood at the arched entrance, their faces blank, their posture rigid. One of them pushed the heavy door open without a word.
There he was.
The owner of the estate. Celestara's Lord. My father.
He was a man carved from cold stone. To his other children, he was unaffectionate and distant—but to Rebekah, he was something else entirely.
He looked up slowly as I entered, his pale eyes settling on me with unreadable weight. Lisbeth sat beside him, wine in hand, her smile tight, victorious.
I curtsied.
"Father."
"It's the first right thing you've ever done, boy," the Count said, patting Cedric's shoulder before walking toward me.
I stiffened.
So did Lisbeth. Her smile faltered.
Before I could react, he engulfed me in a tight hug, arms strong and sure, like a man clinging to a miracle. I stood frozen, confused, breath caught in my throat.
Then he pulled back slightly, just enough to pat my hair with a tenderness I didn't know he had.
"I thought I lost you, Rekha," he murmured, eyes glistening with something raw and real. Hope. Grief. Love.
Oh no.
My heart ached—for him, for the weight in his voice. And for her. For Rebekah.
Why hadn't anyone told me she was still missing? Why had no one said I was her twin?
"My lord," Cedric's voice broke through the silence, strained but respectful.
"That's Iris."
The room went still.
The Count's hand froze mid-motion, still tangled in my hair. I closed my eyes, expecting him to yank it—but he didn't.
His eyes flickered from Cedric to me. The warmth vanished, snuffed out in an instant.
"You invite me to dine with my daughter missing?" he roared, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.
I flinched, stepping back. Lisbeth rose from her seat, her expression composed but her posture stiff.
"The guards are working hard, my lord," she said, smoothing her gown. "She couldn't have gone far—"
"It's been two days!" His voice cracked. "And you think she just wandered off?"
The silence was suffocating. His grief, raw and bleeding, filled the room.
"You want me to sit here, drink, and dine—while she's freezing, or dead somewhere out there?"
I stood frozen, the air around me thick with guilt I hadn't earned—but felt all the same.
Then his grief turned sharp, a dagger in every word.
"You abandoned her because she was disabled. You all must be relieved she's gone."
He looked at Lisbeth, then at Cedric, and finally me.
"Just like the two of you, she is my daughter. And your sister. Shame on you. You'd rather feast than look for her."
With that, he turned and stormed out, the doors slamming behind him.
Cedric gave Lisbeth a hard look, shaking his head before following after him.
Lisbeth gestured for me to sit, her smile gone, replaced by a mask of cold calculation.
But I couldn't.
Like the Count, I was angry. Disgusted.
Without a word, I pulled the dress to free my ankles and made a run for it.