Esmeralda did not scream.
She did not throw things or rage like the nobles expected her to.
She smiled.
The kind of smile that was all teeth beneath silk.
"So," she said lightly, adjusting the emerald ring on her finger, "the maid thinks herself untouchable now."
The maids gathered in the side corridor froze, heads bowed low. No one dared meet her eyes.
Esmeralda paced slowly, heels clicking against marble. "The Demon King himself spares her," she continued, voice sweet. "Even dares to be reprimanded by her." She laughed softly. "How novel."
Her gaze snapped to the head maid.
"I want her disciplined."
The head maid swallowed. "M-Mistress Esmeralda, the girl is under—"
Esmeralda's hand shot out, gripping the woman's chin hard enough to make her gasp. "Do not finish that sentence."
She leaned close, whispering, "I don't want her dead. Not yet. I want her small."
The head maid nodded frantically. "Of course, Your Grace."
Esmeralda released her and straightened. "Good. Then let's begin."
---
Lena felt it before she understood it.
The whispers.
When she entered the kitchens, conversation died abruptly. When she passed through the corridors, maids stepped away as if she carried rot instead of water buckets.
Velvet tried to speak to her that morning—and was sharply pulled aside by another maid.
"Don't," the girl hissed. "You'll get punished too."
Punished.
By midday, Lena was summoned.
Not to the barns.
Not to the animal sheds.
To the laundry pits.
Ashikai's ears flattened the moment he saw the assignment slate. "That's not normal."
"What is it?" Lena asked, already tired.
He read aloud grimly. "Boiling wash. Deep pit. Solo duty."
Her stomach dropped.
The laundry pits were punishment work—steaming stone basins filled with lye-soaked water meant to strip blood and grime from soldiers' uniforms. The heat alone could blister skin.
"This is Esmeralda," Ashikai growled. "I can smell it."
Lena exhaled slowly. "Figures."
She rolled up her sleeves anyway.
---
By evening, her hands were raw.
Red.
Blistered.
Steam clung to her hair, sweat soaking through her clothes as she hauled dripping fabric from the pit. Her arms trembled with exhaustion.
Ashikai paced helplessly along the edge. "This is insane. They're trying to break you."
"Yeah," Lena muttered. "Get in line."
A sharp voice cut through the steam.
"Careful."
Lena turned.
Two noble maids stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with barely concealed delight.
"One wrong move," one said, "and you'll spill boiling water on yourself."
The other smiled. "Would be tragic."
Lena stared at them, then deliberately lifted another bundle of soaking cloth.
Steam surged.
Her foot slipped.
Ashikai yelped. "Lena—!"
She barely caught herself, boiling water sloshing dangerously close to her legs.
The maids laughed.
That was when something inside her snapped.
Lena straightened slowly, water dripping from her arms, eyes dark and steady. "You done?"
The laughter faltered.
"Because I am," she said quietly.
She stepped toward them, still dripping, still shaking—but unbowed.
"Tell Esmeralda something for me."
The maids stiffened.
"She can take her silks," Lena continued, voice low, "wrap them around her pride—"
Ashikai coughed loudly. "Language."
"—and choke on them," Lena finished coldly.
The maids recoiled, pale.
"You'll regret this," one hissed.
"Probably," Lena replied. "But not today."
---
That night, Lena collapsed onto her bed, hands bandaged crudely. Ashikai curled against her, uncharacteristically quiet.
"She's escalating," he said softly. "She'll use rules next. Accidents. 'Mistakes.'"
Lena stared at the ceiling. "Let her."
"You can't fight the palace alone."
"I'm not alone."
He looked up at her.
She met his gaze.
"Neither are you."
Outside the window, a shadow passed over the moon.
And in her chambers, Esmeralda stood before a mirror, eyes burning.
"Enjoy your defiance while you can," she whispered. "Tomorrow, I take something you can't slap back."
---