Sapphire approached the maid's small chamber quietly, her steps soft on the stone floor as she found Sarah busy folding linens. She immediately noticed the disappearance of the dark eye bags that had lingered before, Sarah had clearly been sleeping well.
"Let me examine you," Sapphire said softly, stepping closer.
She carefully checked Sarah's gums and tongue, her fingers gentle but precise. "Any side effects from the draught I gave you?"
Sarah paused her task and shook her head. "Only a slight pain right after taking it, but it went away quickly."
Sapphire nodded thoughtfully, then handed her another small vial. "Take this one after meals. It will help further. And make sure to keep coupling with your husband as I instructed."
Sarah smiled faintly, accepting the medicine. "Thank you, my lady. I will."
She hesitated for a moment, then leaned closer. "If you don't mind me saying, I overheard your talk with Raphael."
Sapphire's eyes narrowed. "What about him?"
"He once worked for Lord Typhon in his younger days. I heard them say it was a hard time for him back then. Not many know that," Sarah said quietly.
Sapphire tilted her head slightly, curiosity sharpening her gaze. "Worked for Lord Typhon? In what way?"
Sarah glanced toward the open doorway, lowering her voice. "As a guard, I think, maybe even one of his personal guards. That was long ago, before his wife, before the shop. Folk don't talk about it much, but old servants remember things."
Sapphire's mind reeled, trying to piece together the fragments, Raphael's temper, the blood on his tunic, his cryptic words. "Why would he leave such a position?"
Sarah smiled faintly, folding a piece of linen with practiced ease. "He gave it up after marriage, milady. Left Lord Typhon's service without hesitation. Folk said he was mad about her… completely taken. It was the only time I ever saw him soft."
Sapphire arched a brow. "Soft?"
"Aye," Sarah chuckled softly. "The kind of man who would wipe his wife's boots clean himself if she asked. Built that fabric shop from nothing, just for her. Said it'd keep her safe and busy while he handled the world outside."
Sapphire looked away, her fingers clenched "Doesn't sound like the man I know."
"People change," Sarah said, her voice gentle. "Especially when love dies… or is taken."
A silence passed between them, and Sarah added with a bit of hesitation, "Whatever he's become now, he wasn't always that way."
Sapphire nodded slowly, tucking the pieces together in her mind. The past didn't lie… but it didn't always tell the full truth either.
Sarah's hands moved swiftly over the linen, her tone sharp despite its calm.
"So what should I believe? That he loved his wife and.still killed her?" Sapphire spat, frustration lacing her words. She really wanted to believe him.
Sarah let out a quiet breath, eyes fixed on the folds she was smoothing.
"The wanton woman should be grateful she died an easy death," she muttered, almost to herself.
Sapphire blinked. "What?"
Sarah paused, then shrugged, still not meeting her gaze. "She was playing with fire, milady. And fire always burns."
Sapphire's brows furrowed, confusion tightening her chest. "Why would you say that?"
Sarah finally looked up, lips pursed. "Because I've said too much already. If you want the truth… you best hear it from Sir Raphael's mouth, not mine."
With that, she turned away, the conversation sealed like the linen she folded, neatly, carefully, but hiding far more than it showed.
***
Lady Ixora, daughter of Lord Hugh POV:
Lady Ixora was halfway down the marble steps, still tying the sash of her robe, when she paused. The maid had informed her moments ago that a royal envoy had arrived, odd for such an early hour.
But what made her freeze wasn't the news. It was the voice that followed.
"…That snake thinks he can buy peace with my daughter?!"
Her father's voice, deep and roughened with barely restrained fury, tore through the air like a whip. Ixora's breath caught. She crept closer, her bare feet silent on the stone, heart pounding.
"I knew it," Lord Hugh growled. "Cassian's behind this farce. Marriage? Ha! He dares to offer such filth under the guise of alliance?"
Ixora leaned against the wall, the scent of blood tea still clinging to her sleeve. She could feel the tension even through the stone.
Another voice, calmer, but firm, followed. "His Majesty believes it may… ease tensions between the Houses."
"Tensions?" Hugh snapped. "He killed my cousin. Burned our granaries. And now he wants my daughter as compensation?"
Ixora's fists clenched. Her jaw tightened.
Compensation?
So that's what this was. An arrangement dressed in silk and diplomacy marching her off like a trophy to the man her father loathed. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She stepped back, retreating into shadow, her jaw clenched so tightly her teeth ached as the room felt too small, the walls closing in with the burden of their decisions. Without a word, she grabbed her cloak and slipped out into the cool air, the door closing softly behind her.
She wandered through the market, hands brushing over things she didn't need, ribbons, scented oils, trinkets — buying them all the same. Each purchase was a silent rebellion, a way to fill the emptiness gnawing inside her.
The world outside was loud and bright, but inside, she felt a storm brewing, one she wasn't sure she could control.Her arms growing heavier with each useless purchase. Exhaustion tugged at her, but she wouldn't let it show. Pride wouldn't allow her to slow down now.
Lost in her own restless thoughts, she forgot her maids were nowhere near. Suddenly, she bumped into something hard, a broad chest. The impact threw her off balance, and she slipped, falling backward. Her precious purchases scattered across the cobblestones like spilled jewels.
Breath caught, she froze for a moment, cheeks flaming with embarrassment as she looked up at the stranger who had unwittingly caused her fall.
"Watch where you're going," the man grunted, already turning to leave without so much as a glance back.
Still sprawled ungracefully on the street, Ixora's eyes flared. "You fool! You bumped into me and didn't even catch me! Apologize now!"
The man paused, head tilting slightly as he turned to face her, offended, clearly, but more amused than anything. "Apologize? You ran into me. What is it with you pampered nobles?"
Ixora's face turned crimson. "I am a lady!"
He gave a slow, deliberate scan of her tangled brown hair, the dirt on her skirt, and the chaos of her spilled items. "Doesn't seem like it."
Her fists clenched at her sides as fury ignited in her chest. "You foolish man! How dare you! Do you even know who my father is? Do you want to die?!"
He chuckled, dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "What are you going to do? Call Daddy to fight your battles?" He leaned in a bit, smirking. "Typical coddled noble. Cumber world."
Ixora gasped, Cumber world? Her father would have beheaded him for less. She stood her ground, still seated on the ground—and pointed a trembling finger. "Help me up. This instant."
He raised a brow. "Ask nicely."
Her lips pursed so tight they nearly disappeared. "Do you refuse a lady in distress?"
"Not when the lady in distress has an unbridled tongue," he shot back.
Her pride screamed in protest, but she forced the words out. "Please."
He cupped a hand around his ear mockingly. "Didn't quite catch that."
"Please," she gritted.
Satisfied, he finally reached down and grasped her hand. His grip was firm, warm, too steady for someone so infuriating. He pulled her to her feet with surprising gentleness.
"Wasn't so hard, was it?" he murmured with a wink.
Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, hands in his pockets like nothing had happened.
Ixora stared after him, seething. "Arrogant bastard," she hissed under her breath.
But her cheeks burned in a way that wasn't just anger.