The servants whispered of it first     low, hushed tone in the scullery, careful glances over their shoulders.

"No bodies in months."

"Not even a missing handmaid."

"She's... keeping the hounds close."

The gossip curdled into tension. In this place, peace was suspicious.

The Duke heard the murmurs eventually, though not out concern for his daughter. No   Lord Arlowe's interest was never in her survival, only the optics of his House. When his wife died, he had found no use the child she'd left behind.

Her cruelty had been a convient excuse to ignore her entirely. The worse she became, the more relieved he was that he'd withdrawn from her life     proof, in his mind, that his absence was justified.

Still, even a father of such moral rot knew her continued existence held value. A daughter could be married off. A pawn could be moved. A pawn could be sacrificed.

For now, though he watched from a distance. And Seraphine, blissfully unaware of her 'father's' renewed curiosity, spent her days in the stables, her hounds at her heels, riding farther and faster into the summer woods.

But boredom never lasted forever. And somewhere in the heart of the Dukedom, the game was beginning to shift.

                                                                                                                        

The morning sun was pale and quiet when a soft knock came to her door. Mina, still groggy from yesterday's long ride with Cookie, groaned and swug her legs over the side of the bed.

A maid entered, curtsying so low it nearly grazed the floor, holding a folded sheet of heavy parcgment,

"My Lady, a letter from the Duke," she said.

Mina froze. The Duke? To me? She blinked, heart skipping a beat. He had never sent her anything directly      not in the original story, not in his life. Not once. Her hands trembled as she took the parchment, weighing it, turning it over, examing the wax seal. The Duke's sigil gleamed in the morning light.

This can't be real.

 

She broke the wax seal carefully, unfolding the letter with a mix of awe and disbelief.

Lady Seraphine.

You are hereby granted permission to attend the Academy upon reaching your seventeenth year. Preparations and instrucation will be arranged in due course.

-Your Father, the Duke

Mina's eyes widened. Permission. From him. The Duke. Me?

Her chest tightened. She wasn't yet seventeen     only months away    and yet here was a direct letter, offering her the chance to leave the duchy and attend the Academy. She had never expected even a nod in her direction, much less an invitation like this.

Her mind raced. Why now? Why would he suddenly permit the infamout villainess    whispered about in horrified tones, the one everyone assumed would never see the world beyond the duchy     to attend the Academy?

Part of her was wary. She had no idea what would come of this, and excitement didn't even feel right. But another part... a small, fragile part, thrilled at the thought of stepping outside her gilded cage, even just a few hours.

Impulsively, she threw on a riding outfit, tugged on a cloak and slipped quietly from her room. The stables    and Cookie    were the first place she needed to go.

The stallion lifted his head as she approached, nostrils flaring softly. She ran a hand down his mane, speaking as if he could answer.

"Cookie... the Duke... he... he actually sent me a letter," she whispered, voice trembling. "Seventeen. Academy. I dont'... I can't understand why... but I had to tell someone. You'll be here, won't you?"

She lingered by his stall, stroking the curve of his neck, pouring her astonishment, confusion, and cautious hope into the quiet morning. The words left her in a rush, fragile and trembling, before dissolving into silence.

On impulse, she leaned closer, pressing her forehead against Cookie's warm coat   seeking comfort. For a fleeting moment, it worked.

And then, in the hush between breaths, she felt it.

A presence. Watching.

Her chest tightened. She turned her head slowly, and in the corner of her vision, the shadows shifted

Not empty. Not alone.

Someone was there.