Chapter 40: The Challenge

The moment Leroy turned away, Zara advanced with the determination of someone who believed victory was near. Lorraine saw her coming. She considered walking off. After all, she didn’t entertain pests. But something about Zara’s smirk made her stop. The Serrathian orphan had a spark in her eyes. Arrogance. Challenge. And Lorraine didn’t want to be the one to walk away from a challenge. Was it her anger toward Zara herself? She certainly couldn’t say. It was most certainly something more. Yeah, she was leaving, but still, this was her place. Her mansion. She was the lady of the manor. She shouldn’t back away from pests like the mistress. If she did, who knew? Her past days of cowering and hiding in shadows might return. She didn’t want to revert to the life she lived in her father’s house. She needed to assert her dominance. She needed to show her power. If Leroy took the power from her hands... Then... She’d think about that when the time arrives. "Soon, I’ll be taking your bedchamber, Princess," Zara said. Her voice glittered like polished steel. "It’s only a matter of time." Lorraine’s smile didn’t falter. She had once pitied this girl, truly. An orphan from a conquered land, clinging to the hem of a powerful man. For a time, Lorraine had considered letting her be. But this little thing didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. She turned to Sylvia, gave her the signal, and signed with steady, precise fingers. Sylvia, ever faithful, translated aloud with a deadpan sweetness: "You’ll have to either beg me or kill me for that to happen." Zara let out a single laugh, tossing her auburn curls over one shoulder. "Then I’ll kill you," she said boldly. Lorraine raised a brow, her gaze unblinking. Sylvia glanced at her mistress, awaiting the next blow. The Princess didn’t disappoint. "You shouldn’t run your mouth, little girl," Lorraine signed slowly, deliberately. She waited for Sylvia to speak before giving Zara a long look that said everything her silence didn’t. And it landed. Zara’s smile wavered. Being called a child by a woman with such frightening poise made her want to scream. She straightened, shoulders stiffening with fury. "My curse might get to you," Lorraine added. Sylvia relayed the message with a smug smile. She knew Lorraine didn’t mean it literally. Lorraine had no need for curses. She herself was enough. Lorraine had already decided: Zara would die. Eventually. Painfully. Just not today. Zara scoffed and let out a laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "You think you scare me because you’re the prince’s wife?" she snapped. "You think you can hide behind your title forever?" Lorraine held her smirk. Zara stepped forward. "I could snap your neck right now and no one would even blink." Lorraine didn’t move. Her posture was regal, her eyes gleaming with cruel calm. The Serrathian girl didn’t know what she was playing with. Lorraine wasn’t just the mute wife of Leroy Regis. She was the kingdom’s buried secret. The one people only spoke of in whispers. She was the one who ran the shadows, revered and feared. She had seen a hundred "Zaras" in her life and managed to squeeze the light out of all of them. Zara, for all her hiss and venom, was just a snake playing queen in someone else’s den. Sylvia stepped forward instinctively, putting herself between them. One look from Lorraine stopped her. If Sylvia touched Zara, Leroy would retaliate. Lorraine wasn’t going to let her take that risk. Not yet. Instead, Lorraine smiled faintly... and stuck her leg out, just enough. Zara, storming forward, didn’t see it. She tripped. A sharp gasp tore from her throat as she stumbled forward, arms flailing, panic flashing across her face. And then... Lorraine caught her. She didn’t even flinch as she grabbed Zara by the arm and yanked her back to balance. Her grip was firm, unsympathetic, graceful even. Even though Zara was taller and stronger, Lorraine moved her like a puppet. Zara’s face flushed with shock and fury. Her heart raced in her chest, her vision swimming. "What’s going on here?" The deep voice behind them was unmistakable. Leroy. Lorraine turned slowly, still holding Zara, her face unreadable. Of course, he had been watching. Always the careful lover. Ready to swoop in the moment his mistress tripped on her own pride. Lorraine’s stomach twisted. How very noble of him! Sylvia stepped in again, gently guiding Zara away from Lorraine while creating a safe gap between the two women. Lorraine’s heart burned, a quiet fury rising in her veins. Her fingers curled against her gown. How easy it would be to slap Leroy again. Hard. Punishing. Right across those perfectly carved cheekbones. Maybe she’d slice her hand open, but it would be worth it. She didn’t. Instead, she smiled. And then signed. "I was just telling Zara that I’m assigning her a maid," Sylvia translated. "She’s a guest. It’s only proper I look after her." Zara blinked, caught off guard. "I don’t want a maid." Leroy, however, smiled faintly. "Do that. She needs to learn the ways of Vaeloria." He sounded satisfied. Relieved, even. He regretted being harsh on Zara for breaking their rules. It would be better if she learned the rules. Lorraine, to him, was finally softening and reaching out. This was her olive branch. The silent princess was trying to make peace. How wrong he was. Lorraine tilted her head ever so slightly, her smile deepening. Not in sweetness. In promise. Zara didn’t see it. But Leroy did. And something in him stilled. There was a softness in her face he hadn’t seen in a long time. A single golden curl had slipped from her carefully pinned hair and rested on her cheek like a whisper. She only wore her hair like that at home when she was relaxed. At ease. His hand moved before he could stop himself. He reached out to tuck the curl behind her ear. He loved the feeling of her hair on his fingers. Lorraine’s eyes flickered with surprise, a moment of disbelief crossing her face. Why did he believe he had the right to lay a hand on her whenever it suited him? Hadn’t he just been entangled with his mistress? What could possibly draw him back to her now? Before she could even think, her hand flew up. She brushed his hand away, not even looking at him, as if swatting a fly. Then, she walked past him like he didn’t exist. Leroy stood there, hand still raised. The warmth of her skin lingered on his fingers, but she was already gone. His eyes followed her retreating form, something strange and restless stirring in his chest. He didn’t understand it. But it clawed at him. Zara reached for his arm. "Leroy—" He didn’t respond. He turned and walked away. Zara’s jaw clenched. Her fingers curled into fists at her side. She’d just been humiliated by a conceited mute woman. She had to get rid of that woman. Fast. She needed to protect Leroy from such an uncouth woman that he couldn’t control. She knew he depended on her.