Chapter 7

“You couldn’t have found a less flattering dress, commoner,” Aiden commented as he skulked over to her.

Violet always felt humiliated when he called her a commoner. She wondered if her lowborn blood was to blame for her poor presentation. Every time the viscountess or Aiden scolded her, their words scraped at her heart.

“I know it doesn’t suit me,” Violet said.

“Huh?” Aiden echoed, apparently taken aback that the girl had finally spoken to him.

He tried to say something more, but she quickly and rather awkwardly staggered away. Her demeanor was so cold that he did not dare prevent her from leaving.

Aiden clicked his tongue. “What’s her problem? She’s walking weird, too.” Although he was annoyed, his eyes never left her back.

Violet quickened her pace. Her skirt kept brushing against her swollen legs, but the most painful sensation came from inside her burning calves.

Her supposed divine power—if she had any at all—did not seem to be helping her now. Whatever power the Goddess had granted her was fickle. Sometimes her legs would heal quickly and perfectly, and sometimes she would be left in pain. The situation now was the latter.

She groaned. To be honest, the beatings were not that bad, but this time hurt more since she had not endured one in a while. Violet feared that she might collapse if she was subjected to anything greater. Trying to prepare herself mentally, she kept reminding herself that she had felt worse.

She desperately wished to see Daniel, who would smile gently and comfort her. Sometimes, he even helped her with her studies. In fact, he was the reason she was working so hard. He was the only one here she was able to speak to comfortably, as well. She imagined that he had no idea how much comfort he brought her.

He’s probably reading somewhere right now. Though Violet knew where his room was, she was too shy to seek him out. The only time she saw him was when he came to see her or they ran into each other by chance. She hoped that he would decide to take a break from his reading to stretch his legs and get some air.

A bird approached her with a chirp. Violet jumped and turned around.

Just like her healing ability, her ability to understand the language of animals came and went in bouts. Sometimes, birds spoke to her just the same as people, but most of the time they only twittered or chirped. She could also sometimes sense what plants wanted.

Unfortunately, her divine power only seemed to manifest in the strangest places. She pouted, wishing that it would heal her leg instead.

“I’m so pretty! I’m the greatest in the world. Even other males would fall for me! Tweet tweet!” the bird chirped.

People often speculated that birds’ songs were rejoicing over the coming of spring and lamenting the sunset. They said crows cawed to mourn death and the eagles’ screeches heralded war. How selfish and human-centered those ideas were.

“Oh, beautiful singer, please lay my eggs!”

Violet now knew that most bird calls were about mating, and she deemed understanding them to be the most useless of her powers. She had little interest in their courtship of one another or the other mundane calls she often overheard. Frowning, she headed somewhere that would be quieter.

She saw a chapel in the distance. Unsurprisingly, the Holy Kingdom’s nobles often had chapels on their properties where they could pray. The marquess was no different.

The chapel was located on a hill slightly above the manor. To get to it, one had to go through the rear garden and ascend a set of stairs. Though Violet had been too scared to walk around at first, she now felt more comfortable to venture out. Her feet shook unsteadily in her leather shoes as she stepped up the stairs.

Suddenly, a shadow jumped at her. She screamed and fell backward. The surprise was one thing, but falling and rolling down the stairs was awful. She groaned as her bruised legs throbbed.

“I-I’m sorry…” she mumbled, afraid that she might be scolded again. Lamenting how unlucky she was today, she looked up to find a familiar face.

Her own face drained of all color. The one who was coming out of the chapel toward her was Ethelmund.

“Are you all right?” he asked, reaching out to her with an expressionless face.

Violet could only nod. She had not seen Ethelmund since her disastrous final breakfast in the dining room. He was rarely around, too busy with his work as a knight, which required him to leave early in the morning and return home late.

Violet found him very difficult to be around. Not only did he hardly speak, but she also got the feeling that he found her unpleasant.

Ethelmund seemed to be observing her closely as he extended his hand further. Though Violet had accepted his hand before, she did not wish to do so again. Instead, she struggled to get to her feet on her own. Unfortunately, her legs had given out.

“Have you injured your leg?” the older boy asked, withdrawing his hand and crouching by her side. His profile, reflecting the sun, was far too close. It made her want to run away. She felt like she did nothing but humiliate herself in front of him.

“Have you sprained your ankle?” he asked, sounding exhausted.

Violet shook her head desperately, afraid that he might mock or even scold her if he found out that she had been beaten for her shortcomings. Maybe he would tell the marquess that she was hopeless and that they should toss her out.

Ethelmund was a mystery to her, and Violet could not predict his reactions. Aiden always teased her, while Daniel was kind. The oldest son, however, was expressionless every time she saw him. Violet had come to realize that most of the servants had divided opinions of him—they either liked him or feared him.

Unfortunately, Ethelmund did not back away. Instead, he tugged up the hem of her skirt without asking permission.

“N-no!” Violet screamed when she realized what he was doing. It was the loudest she had ever raised her voice in all the time she’d been at the mansion. It was also the first time she’d resisted. She found herself unable to meet his eyes, too embarrassed that he would dare to lift her dress.

As she squeaked and tried to yank down her hem, Ethelmund stared at her. She wondered fearfully if he was angry. However, he merely said, “I’m just trying to look at the wound.” Despite the clear refusal, he calmly pulled down her silk socks to feel her leg.

Violet gave up trying to protest. Apparently, he was determined. After pulling down her socks, he suddenly froze and looked up.

Violet blushed and hung her head. She was still too ashamed to meet his eyes, so she could not see what sort of expression he was wearing.

Ethelmund, on the other hand, saw an innocent little girl who was blushing because a man had pulled up her dress. “These wounds…” he said, frowning.

Violet remembered the swollen state of her legs. One look would tell Ethelmund all he needed to know. It was natural for anyone to frown after seeing that she had to be punished so harshly.

The viscountess was right. This was not the way a young lady should look at all. The discolored swelling was certainly ugly. The brutal lashings made her delicate skin swell, and in some cases, burst like blisters. Rose and Lina always used to frown whenever they saw her wounds, so she could guess at how disgusted Ethelmund must be as well.

“I’m sorry…” Violet whimpered, her eyes downcast.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked in clear annoyance.

Violet did not know what to say. Though she could not see his face, she was sure he was glaring at her menacingly. And as expected, when she finally glanced up nervously, she saw that he looked furious.

“I-I know that I don’t belong here. I’m sorry I can’t behave properly. And I’m sorry that the viscountess has to beat me, even though the marquess was so nice to let me live here. It means I’m not doing well enough,” the little girl said slowly. For a girl lacking formal education, it was a reasonably logical answer, though it was doused in tears.

Coming clean made Violet feel a lot better. She knew Ethelmund must be staring at her. She pictured his eyes full of contempt, just like Viscountess Iskinder’s.

The boy watched tears roll down Violet’s cheeks for a moment before he finally broke his silence and sighed. “If I may offer my opinion… I don’t think you should be wearing a dress like this yet, Your Holiness.”

Violet was devastated. The viscountess, Aiden, and Ethelmund had all said the same thing.

“I think we should ask Fynn to save the dresses until you’re ready.”

She hung her head. He was right. The excitement she’d felt about pretty dresses abruptly vanished as she thought about how unfit she was to wear them.

It was rather strange that Ethelmund remembered Fynn’s name, as she was Violet’s maid. However, Violet passed it off as him just being a smart young man.

She tried to hold back her tears, reminding herself that he was just telling the truth. Fearing that she might be scolded for crying again, she pursed her lips.

“I do not think walking around like this is doing your wounds any good. Why are you out here?” the young lord asked sharply.

“I wanted to see Daniel,” Violet replied tearfully.

“Have you told him?”

Violet nodded. She didn’t know what he was asking about, but she assumed that it was probably the viscountess’s scoldings, not her wounds.

Ethelmund frowned. Violet heard him sigh, then she was abruptly lifted up.

“Ah!” she screamed when her feet left the ground. She suddenly found herself in the older boy’s arms. He seemed to have no trouble lifting her, even though neither she nor the dress was very light.

“P-please, let me down. I’m sorry!” she cried. But just the same as when he’d tugged up her skirt, Ethelmund ignored her.

Violet wondered how she’d ended up in this situation. Not even Daniel had ever done anything like this. It was overwhelming to be carried by a noble lord, and the heir of House Ermengart, at that. Violet could not remember ever being held in someone’s arms aside from her father’s.

“I-I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be better. But you can’t carry me! Please, put me down!” Violet pleaded tearfully, more frightened than she had been when she was beaten.

Ethelmund stopped and looked down at her with his intense, blue eyes. Violet wondered if she had done something to offend the young lord.

“Is it really so strange that a brother would carry his little sister?” he asked.

The little girl could not say anything in response. While it was true, she could not yet accept that she was now his little sister. She found it hard to believe that Ethelmund was convinced of it, either.

When she did not reply, Ethelmund resumed walking, paying no regard to her distress. Violet had no energy to protest. She merely wished that they would arrive at wherever he was taking her quickly.

His hand was wrapped around her small shoulder tightly, but as they went down the steps, she found herself reaching out to clutch his arm. She quickly tried to pull away when she realized what she was doing, only for the boy to tug her arm up and around his neck.

Violet felt his strong arm supporting her waist as his breath tickled her ear. Her blush reached all the way to the tips of those ears. As he walked, the chapel grew smaller and smaller behind them.

“Welcome back, my lord.” The butler greeted them as they returned.

“Call Her Holiness’s maid. I’ll take her to her room,” Ethelmund replied.

His voice was the coldest Violet had ever heard it. The butler looked quite nervous, as well. Though she could not see Ethelmund’s face, she could tell that he must look quite frightening, judging by the way the maids around them were whispering.

They entered her room and Ethelmund sat her down by the table, staring at her pale legs. Violet wondered why he kept looking at them, but she was too ashamed to look at his face. She wondered if he was about to scold her for being so stupid. Perhaps he would command her to go without dinner or beat her himself.

As Violet’s thoughts spiraled, Fynn and the butler hastily entered the room.

“Does my father know about this?” Ethelmund asked, still staring down at the little girl’s calves without bothering to look up at the servants.

Violet was overwhelmed by the strength of his gaze. She glanced up at the butler and Fynn, who was pale. She suddenly realized that it was her wounds that were the problem, and not the fact that she had been scolded. Everyone was now staring at her exposed legs in shock.

She looked down at her own legs. They weren’t really all that bad, just a little bruised up.

Wondering what was so surprising, she glanced around again. Ethelmund sighed at her frightened expression.

“Lord Ethelmund, who could have— Fynn! You’re Her Holiness’s maid. Did you know about this?” The butler turned on the maid.

Fynn shook her head. “N-not at all. Her Holiness does not like it when I try to help her get dressed or bathe.”

Violet watched Fynn tremble. She felt sorry for her. She did not want the woman who resembled her mother to suffer. Ethelmund, however, merely stared at the scared maid.

“I-I’m sorry, Your Holiness,” Fynn said.

That was when Violet realized something was seriously wrong.

“Ethelmund, what’s going on? What’s with all the noise?” Aiden asked, barging into the room. He must have been roaming around in the hallways when he heard the commotion.

Aiden glanced at the maid and his brother before staring at Violet’s legs. “Huh? What’s wrong with your legs, commoner? When did you get all roughed up?”

“Aiden, if you speak like that to Her Holiness one more time, I’m going to personally teach you a lesson,” his brother scolded.

“Hmph!” Aiden snorted, but fell silent.

Ethelmund turned to Fynn. “You are her maid, but you abandoned Her Holiness and let her suffer through this. You didn’t even know it was happening, since you haven’t been properly assisting her. I don’t know whether to call it complacency or simple laziness.”

“L-Lord Ethelmund!” the maid cried out in shock.

Violet looked at the young man with surprise. She wanted to interject, yet she could not. She only vaguely understood that the problem was her wounds. They had upset the young lord, which in turn disturbed everyone else.

Ethelmund was the most frightening person Violet had ever met. When he was calm and collected, his quiet anger had the power to incite fear in anyone facing him. And yet, he was only just a boy coming of age.

Everyone watched Ethelmund nervously. Even Aiden had an expression on his face that Violet had never seen before.

“I don’t understand how someone who is supposed to be serving her could overlook this. If you truly did not know, I must question your capability as a maid,” he continued.

Violet blanched, realizing what he was about to do. Though she had witnessed plenty of fiendish young lords threatening to kill others, she had never seen someone strike such fear with mere words.

But as difficult as it was to speak up, Violet was not about to leave poor Fynn to her fate. “N-no, Lord Ethelmund! Don’t punish Fynn!” she cried as she limped toward him.

The boy’s cold blue eyes fell on her, watching her stumble before turning back to the maid. While he did not glare at her, the look on his face suggested that her attempt had been entirely unsuccessful.

Violet, however, was desperate. “F-Fynn didn’t do anything wrong. I hid it from her. I swear! Please, don’t punish her!” She was ready to fall on her knees as she peered up at Ethelmund pitifully.

Despite her pleas, he remained expressionless. He only stared at the young girl. Violet met his gaze, not averting her eyes.

“Clahadel, pay Fynn three times her usual salary and her severance,” Ethelmund ordered after a moment as he rose to his feet.

“L-Lord Ethelmund!” Violet cried again. She trembled and hobbled over to him.

This can’t be happening. Fynn can’t leave. She’s kind. The maid reminded Violet of her mother. Violet couldn’t allow her to leave like this.

What do I do? Should I ask the marquess to be lenient? If Fynn was sent away, Violet knew she would never see her again.

“I am your brother, not your lord,” Ethelmund said in a low voice.

Violet was at a loss.

“And I have full authority in this manor to act in place of my father. You cannot do anything to change my mind.” He gave the butler another quiet order, then left. He apparently had no intention of indulging Violet.

The girl could hear Fynn weeping. Realizing she had failed to persuade Ethelmund, she stared at the maid in a daze. Feeling guilty for everything that had happened, Violet approached her.

Fynn suddenly turned around and looked at the girl with a strange expression that Violet had not encountered before. For some reason, she looked more angry than sad. Her eyes were full of malice that sent chills down the little girl’s spine.