Chapter 12: The Maid They Blamed

The kitchen drain spat Maren into filthy water beneath Rainmoth House. She landed on hands and knees, pain sparking through her ribs as the cold soaked through her dress. The stone floor was slick with grease and rot, and the stench of old cooking oil and mildew filled her lungs. Cael dropped beside her without a sound, then caught her elbow before she slipped on the slime. Above them, floorboards creaked with urgent footsteps. A man's voice asked something too soft to hear, followed by a sharp crack—a slap, or a fist against wood. Nessa screamed again. Maren moved. Cael caught her by the back of the cloak, his grip firm but not cruel. "Slowly." "She is being hurt." "And if you rush through a trapped house, she will watch you die before answering." Maren hated every practical word. She also obeyed. They climbed from the drain into a pantry thick with mildew and old flour. A rat fled across the shelves, its claws scratching against the wood. Beyond the pantry door, lantern light striped the kitchen floor in yellow bars. Two guards stood near the stove, talking in low voices. "Duchess says the maid stole grave jewelry," one said, his tone bored, as if discussing the weather. The other snorted. "Maid stole a corpse, more like. Whole city has gone mad. They say the Thornborn ghost walks the streets at night." Maren's hands went cold. Vespera had already chosen the story. Nessa would be blamed for the empty coffin, the missing ribbon, perhaps even Maren's "imposture." A servant could be executed by morning with no court vote at all, no trial, no witness but the duchess's word. Cael touched two fingers to the floor. Shadows slid under the pantry door like spilled ink, pooling and spreading across the kitchen tiles. The lanterns went out. In the dark, one guard cursed. The other had time to draw half a breath before Cael opened the door and struck. Maren saw only shapes: a hand over a mouth, a knee folding, the second guard reaching for his sword. She grabbed a cast-iron skillet from the wall and hit him behind the ear with all the strength she had. The clang made her teeth ache. The guard dropped like a sack of grain. Cael looked at the skillet, then at her. His expression was unreadable in the dim light from the window. "Effective," she said. "Loud." "He is unconscious, not reviewing acoustics." They tied the guards with apron cords, knotting them tight enough to hold. Maren wiped her hands on her ruined dress and took the stairs two at a time. Rainmoth House had been stripped of mercy. Empty rooms smelled of damp wood and fear, of dust and the faint copper tang of old blood. On the second floor, a chair scraped against the floorboards. Nessa's voice came next, hoarse but still herself. "I already told you. Lady Maren was breathing when they took her. If that ruins your duchess's evening, I hope it ruins dessert too." Maren's chest tightened. A man's voice answered, smooth and cruel. "Loyalty is charming. Fingers are optional." Cael's expression became very still. The shadows around his feet stirred, restless. Maren reached the door first. Through the crack, she saw Nessa tied to a chair, face bruised, blue servant coat torn at one shoulder. A ledger lay on the table beside her, exactly as the root vision had shown. The interrogator wore no mask. He had removed it to enjoy himself. Maren knew him. Beric Glass, a minor court clerk who had once corrected the spelling of her name on invitations while looking through her as if she were furniture. He had always been small, forgettable, the kind of man who fed on borrowed power. Beric lifted a small knife toward Nessa's hand. Maren pushed the door open. Everyone turned. Nessa stared at her. For one impossible moment, hope and horror fought across her face. "My lady?" Beric recovered with a clerk's quick survival instinct. He grabbed the ledger and stepped behind Nessa, knife at her throat. "Do not move." Maren did not look at Cael. If she did, Beric would see where the real danger stood. "You are not important enough to make threats." Beric flushed, his face reddening. "I hold your witness." "You hold a woman tied to a chair because without rope you cannot win an argument." Nessa gave a breathless laugh and immediately winced as the knife pressed closer. Beric's hand trembled. "The duchess said you would try nobility. She said it would make you stupid." "The duchess buried me alive and still failed to keep track of my body. I would be careful quoting her judgment." His eyes flicked to the shadows behind her, searching for the threat he sensed but could not see. Maren took one step. "Here is what happens next. You put down the knife, leave the ledger, and run. When Vespera asks, tell her Maren Elowen is no longer accepting messages delivered through bleeding servants." "Or?" The room darkened. The lantern flame guttered and died. Cael's voice came from everywhere, low and cold as winter stone. "Or I remove your shadow and leave the rest." Beric screamed before anything touched him. He shoved Nessa forward and bolted for the window. Cael's shadow caught him by the ankle, slammed him into the floor, and held him there, pinned like a moth under glass. Maren cut Nessa free with Beric's dropped knife. Nessa collapsed against her, shaking. "They said you were dead." "They were confident." "Your dress. Your hands. Saints, Maren, what did they do?" Maren closed her eyes for one breath. "Not enough." Nessa pulled back, tears cutting tracks through grime. "I saw them. Vespera, Aldric, the priest. They gave you something. You were breathing when they sealed the coffin. I tried to follow, but they locked me in the linen room until dawn." "Can you testify?" Fear crossed Nessa's face, but it did not stay. "Yes." Maren gripped her hands. "Then we get you out." Cael picked up the ledger. His face changed as he flipped through it, his jaw tightening. "What?" Maren asked. "This is not only household accounts." Nessa wiped blood from her lip. "It is the blood ledger. I stole it from Vespera's study last month when she told the physician to test Celeste's compatibility." Maren took the book. Inside were names, dates, payments, and notations beside each blood sample. Servants. Cousins. Dead infants from branch families. Vespera had been testing bloodlines for years, discarding failures like spoiled meat. On the last page, written in red ink: *Maren Elowen - viable source. Remove before transfer. Celeste requires crown-root supplement.* Maren felt the room tilt. The words blurred before her eyes. Nessa touched her sleeve. "There is more. Vespera's ceremony will not just crown Celeste. It will drain whatever is left of your claim through the old chapel root. If you are alive when it begins, it may pull from you." Cael shut the ledger. "Then the coronation is also an attack." Beric laughed weakly from the floor, blood trickling from his lip. "Too late. The rite starts at dawn." Maren turned toward him. He smiled through blood. "And the duchess moved dawn forward. The Glass Court already opened its doors." Outside, court bells rang again, louder than before, their iron voices splitting the night. Maren took the ledger, the witness, and the truth Vespera had hidden in numbers. But the danger had changed. The crown was not waiting for her to arrive. It had already begun to hunt her blood.