---
I shifted where I stood, suddenly too aware of myself. The stares came openly now, heavier than before, and I didn’t need anyone to say it aloud to know I was being judged.
Nearby, a man was bent beside a horse, one of its front legs resting on a low stool. He worked carefully, fitting a fresh iron shoe beneath the hoof, striking each nail into place with a hammer.
I flinched with every hit before realizing how foolish I must have looked. I’d heard horses didn’t feel pain in that part of their foot.
Still, I wondered if this was truly good for them. My lessons had never included anything about horses, so I had no way of knowing.
I just hoped the man—Andrew—would finish soon and put an end to the way the boys were staring at me, as though I’d wandered in by mistake.
Technically, I was smaller than all of them. Still, their doubt wasn’t subtle.
Andrew finally stepped back from the horse and called one of the boys over.
“Take this mare to the wash trough after she’s settled,” he instructed. “Check the straps and don’t rush it.”
The boy nodded and moved at once.
Andrew’s gaze then landed on me. His face showed no warmth, but no cruelty either. The others immediately returned to their work, as though a silent order had been given.
He walked toward me.
Cole stood just behind me, still carrying that unmistakable cheerfulness, as if seriousness had never quite found him.
It was impressive, really—how he could stay so bright even now.
“What’s your name, girl?” Andrew asked when he reached me.
He looked rough, like a traveling merchant hardened by years on the road. His hair was cut short, his beard unkempt, and his presence solid.
Still, he didn’t frighten me. Compared to Madame Avia, this was mild.
“Clare,” I replied.
Immediately, I felt a light nudge at my shoulder. I glanced sideways at Cole, eyebrow raised. He quickly gestured, then straightened as though nothing had happened.
It took me a second to understand.
I nodded faintly and corrected myself, standing straighter.
“My name is Clare… sir?”
The hesitation in my voice surprised even me. I was suddenly nervous, and I wasn’t sure why.
Andrew observed me quietly. He had clearly noticed the exchange, but chose not to comment. Instead, he nodded once and turned to Cole.
“Teach her the rules. Show her the basics.”
Cole snapped a sharp nod, almost too enthusiastic.
Andrew faced me again, studying me more closely. I grew uneasy under his gaze, briefly wondering if something was wrong with my appearance.
“Girl,” he said plainly, “you’re small. I don’t know why Madame Marsala placed you here, but that doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you. There’s no light work in this place.”
He gestured toward Cole.
“He’ll show you simple tasks until you adjust. And one more thing.”
His eyes traveled over my gown.
“You can’t work dressed like that.”
“Sir!” Cole responded immediately.
“Take her to change.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cole motioned for me to follow. I nodded and turned back briefly toward Andrew—Sir Andrew, I supposed.
But he was already walking away.
He was far too stern for someone who couldn’t be older than his mid-thirties.
Apparently, my reassignment from inner service to outer duty was the result of a single prank—one so disastrous it shook the servants’ quarters.
— Flashback —
I woke to loud screams and groaned softly.
“Do people not sleep at all?” I muttered. “What’s all this chaos about?”
Heavy footsteps passed outside my chamber. I glanced around, disoriented. The candle had long burned out, but that hardly troubled me—I was used to the dark. I dressed quickly in proper attire, slipped on my footwear, and stepped outside.
Several servants were moving hurriedly in one direction. I followed their line of sight and frowned.
They were heading toward the servants’ washroom.
That was when it dawned on me.
Oh no.
I hastened my pace and arrived just as the gathering formed. A small crowd had assembled—only girls. The servants’ lodging was divided into three wings: one for women, one for men, and one for the head servants.
This disturbance was confined to the women’s wing.
At the center stood five girls, their clothes smeared with filth, their appearance utterly foul. Leeches clung visibly to their skin.
The same creatures I had discovered earlier in one particular privy while on cleaning duty.
I bit my lip hard to suppress my laughter.
I hadn’t expected them to fall for something so simple. They were the very reason I’d been punished in the first place. Even so, the stench alone should have warned them.
All I had done was mix their morning wash water with what I had retrieved from that latrine.
The sky was still dim, dawn only just approaching.
As whispers spread through the gathering, the noise grew—until a sharp, commanding voice cut through it all.
“What is going on here?”
The presence alone was overwhelming. Everyone stiffened, sweat breaking out across faces. I felt it too—worse, because I knew I was responsible.
And I knew exactly who had spoken.
Madame Avia.
The head maid.
If Madame Marsala was fearsome, then Madame Avia was something else entirely. She bore herself like a seasoned general from the eastern continent—unyielding and exacting.
Her voice rang like an alarm bell. The crowd parted instantly.
She emerged with measured steps, as though the ground itself belonged to her. Her expression revealed nothing, yet it unsettled everyone.
Her gaze swept over the girls slowly. Even they seemed to forget their condition, more frightened of her scrutiny than their disgrace.
“Who did this?”
At her words, everyone recoiled, stepping away as though guilt were contagious.
Madame Avia was a woman in her fifties, deeply traditional, with a presence that demanded obedience. She served directly under the head lady of the Westwond household.
My thoughts raced. Her punishments were infamous—few endured them unbroken. I had no desire to become one of her examples.
I edged backward, hoping to slip away unnoticed.
I should have known better.
“You.”
Her voice landed squarely on me.
The crowd parted at once, every eye turning my way. I turned stiffly, forcing a smile that faltered under the weight of their expressions.
I lowered my gaze and bowed. “Yes, Madame Avia.”
There was no point denying it.
She studied me in silence. Each second felt heavier than the last. The pity in the others’ eyes did nothing to help.
Without a word, she gestured.
Three girls stepped forward immediately, gripping my arms as though escape were even possible.
They followed behind Madame Avia, pulling me along.
No one dared follow us—not even for gossip.
We left the servants’ quarters and entered the woods.
Madame Avia walked swiftly. The girls struggled to keep pace, and I struggled more, being dragged.
The deeper we went, the heavier the air felt. I noticed the unease in the girls as well.
We stopped before a swamp.
The stench was overwhelming. The girls released me to cover their noses.
Madame Avia stood unmoved.
The swamp was thick with greenish sludge and rotting waste.
This was where the household refuse was discarded—cleared only a few times each month.
I wondered how the old man tasked with cleaning it survived. His wages must have been substantial.
I had no time to consider further.
Madame Avia signaled.
Before I could react, hands shoved me forward.
I plunged into the swamp.
I managed to shut my eyes and hold my breath just in time, clamping my mouth closed—but it wasn’t enough.
When I surfaced, I retched violently. Again and again.
The stench clung to me so heavily I nearly lost consciousness.
That was her punishment.
I was ill for two days—not from swallowing the filth, which I avoided—but from the shock and trauma of it.
I would forever fear that swamp.
On the third day, though my head still pounded, I returned to duty—only to be met by Madame Marsala’s sharp reprimand.
Her words cut deeply.
Across the room, I spotted several girls—the ones affected by my prank, and others I’d previously antagonized. They wore smug expressions, pleased by my suffering.
My fists clenched.
Madame Marsala’s voice snapped me back. “Did you understand what I said?”
I hadn’t heard a word. I nodded anyway.
“Good,” she said. “Evelyn will take you to your new assignment.”
New assignment?
I barely had time to react before a taller, older girl with a severe expression appeared.
My feet moved before my mind caught up, and I followed Evelyn.
We walked far—beyond the mansion grounds—until the stables came into view.
She stopped abruptly.
“This is where you will work from now on,” she said coldly. “You are no longer an inner servant. Stay away from the mansion. We don’t need a troublesome cockroach like you.”
With that, she turned and left.
I stood there, confused, once again wondering why the other servants despised me so deeply.
Evelyn was the perfect example of unwavering loyalty to Westwond. I often wondered what the family did to earn such devotion.
I used to think the same way.
Now I knew better.
Aside from shelter, protection, and meals, there was little reward in serving a noble household for life.
Still, I couldn’t blame them. Many servants were raised to believe they had no life beyond service—and that their duty would pass to their children.
Yet once a servant turned eighteen, they were free to leave.
Only a few understood that truth.
A sudden tap on my shoulder startled me.
I turned sharply.
A boy stood there—tall, freckled, with striking blue eyes. He looked a few years older than me and radiated cheerfulness.
His clothes were caked with mud. He wore boots without stockings, his hair tied back with a cloth.
The smell was unpleasant—but after what I’d endured days earlier, it was manageable.
“Hello,” he said brightly, extending a muddy hand. “I’m Cole.”
I smiled awkwardly and nodded. He didn’t seem offended.
“You don’t look surprised they sent a girl here,” I said.
He laughed. “There’s work here suited for girls like you.”
“Girls like me?”
He scratched his head, cheeks reddening. “I mean—petite. And… pretty.”
I stared, then burst out laughing.
“You’re amusing,” I said. “That’s enough joking.”
I introduced myself. “I’m Clare. Show me around, and introduce me to the others. I hope they don’t look down on me.”
He nodded eagerly. “Come on.”
And just like that, we began.
---
After changing into a loose pair of strapped trousers—the smallest Cole could find—and an oversized shirt with rolled sleeves, I tied my hair into a slightly messy bun. I kept my shoes and socks as they were.
When I returned, Cole was waiting near the entrance, hands clasped behind his back, casually whistling while watching birds glide overhead.
His cheer no longer surprised me. I was beginning to accept that this was simply how he was.
When he finally noticed me standing close, his face turned a deep shade of red—so sudden it nearly startled me.
“Cole?” I asked, rushing forward and tapping his shoulder. “Are you alright?”
He covered his nose and turned away, nodding too quickly.
I frowned. That reaction made no sense.
I lifted my arm and sniffed myself. I smelled fine.
“Hey!” I smacked his shoulder, irritation creeping in.
He turned back, sheepish grin in place.
“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
I huffed and rolled my eyes.
“So are we working or not?”
He nodded, still apologetic.
“I really didn’t mean it. You just looked so—”
“Funny?” I cut in. “I know—”
“—cute.”
We spoke at the same time.
It took a moment to register.
“Wait—what? Cute?” I pointed at myself, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”
He flushed again and rushed to change the subject.
“Okay, we don’t have time, let’s—”
“Don’t you dare—”
“Alright! Let’s go!”
Before I could protest, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into a jog. He was taller, faster, and surprisingly strong. Breaking free was impossible.
What a way to start a new job.
Then a thought struck me.
“Wait—how much is the pay?”
“Three ounces of silver.”
“What?!” I shouted.
“Shh—” Cole covered my mouth instinctively.
I immediately shoved his hand away and wiped my mouth in disgust, glaring at him.
He scratched his head.
“Sorry. Forgot I still had mud on my hand.”
“If you ever do that again—” I snapped. “Disgusting.”
He nodded quickly.
“And how is it fair,” I continued, “that you all work like this for just two ounces of silver?”
The amount was ridiculous.
My previous position paid two ounces and nine coppers—far better than this.
Everything in this life felt unfair.
Bad luck clung to me relentlessly.
I slumped and sighed, frustration settling deep.
Cole stood beside me, awkward and silent. He seemed unbothered by the wage—probably because he’d never known better.
Arguing wouldn’t change anything.
I straightened and turned to him. He mirrored me immediately, attentive.
“So,” I asked, “what exactly are we doing back here? It smells.”
The rear of the stables looked similar to the front—each horse had its own stall, heads peeking out.
But this side was clearly different.
Low openings lined the wall, beneath each one a bowl filled with—
I grimaced and pointed.
“Is that…?”
“Manure,” Cole confirmed.
“Why are we even here?” I covered my nose at once.
Cole chuckled and pointed at the bowl, then at me.
“That,” he said, “is your job.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
Slowly, I shook my head.
Cole nodded in return.
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