The castle on the hill

6

Days stretched into an agonizing silence following the incident in the east wing. The memory of your defiance hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the precarious position you'd placed yourself in. The other maids avoided your gaze, a mixture of fear and admiration flickering in their eyes. You, the quiet one, had dared to challenge the daughters.

One chilly afternoon, a heavy silence settled over the castle. Even the usual creaks and groans seemed muted.  Then, a crisp rap on your door shattered the stillness. Your heart lurched in your chest. It wasn't the usual knock of the head maid, Elena. This was different, sharper, carrying an undercurrent of authority that sent shivers down your spine.

Taking a deep breath, you cautiously opened the door. Standing in the hallway, her tall figure casting a long shadow, was Lady Dimitrescu.  She looked even more imposing up close, her dark eyes glinting with an unreadable intensity.

"You," she stated, her voice a low contralto that resonated in the hallway.

You swallowed hard. "Yes, my Lady," you stammered.

"Come," she commanded, turning and gliding down the hallway. You followed, your steps hesitant and unsure.  Where was she taking you?

The Lady led you through a labyrinth of corridors, her black dress billowing behind her like a dark cloud. Finally, she stopped before a set of imposing oak doors and pushed them open.  The room beyond was large and luxuriously furnished, a stark contrast to the austerity of the rest of the castle.

Lady Dimitrescu strode towards a mahogany desk adorned with ornate golden inkwells and quill pens.  She turned, her gaze fixed on you.

"Prepare me tea," she ordered, gesturing towards a side table laden with a silver teapot and delicate porcelain cups.  "And do it properly."

You blinked. Preparing tea was usually Elena's duty, a privilege reserved for the head maid. But you didn't dare question her.  Numbly, you approached the table. Your hands trembled slightly as you filled the kettle with water from a nearby carafe.

Lady Dimitrescu watched you with an unreadable expression on her face.  Her silence was unnerving, the weight of her gaze making it difficult to concentrate. As the water boiled, you felt a bead of sweat trickle down your temple.

"Stand straight," she suddenly commanded. Her voice was sharp, laced with a hint of impatience.

You straightened your back, trying to quell the nervous tremor that ran through you.  Her eyes narrowed, scanning you from head to toe.  She seemed to be judging your posture, your every move.

Finally, she spoke again. "You disobeyed my daughter," she stated, her voice devoid of emotion.

The kettle whistled, shattering the silence. You quickly poured the water over the loose tea leaves in the pot, the clatter of the porcelain cup against the saucer the only sound in the room.

"You spoke in defiance," she continued, her words carrying a subtle undercurrent of curiosity.

You kept your eyes downcast, focusing on your task.  Adding a touch of honey, stirring the concoction just the right amount – every movement felt deliberate, a silent plea for understanding.

When the tea was ready, you carefully poured it into a cup and presented it to Lady Dimitrescu on a silver tray.  She took the cup from you, her long fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting moment.  A jolt of electricity seemed to run through you, sending a shiver down your spine.

Lady Dimitrescu took a sip of the tea, her eyes closed for a moment.  Then, she opened them, her gaze fixed on you once more.

"You will prepare my tea from now on," she declared, her voice leaving no room for argument.  "And you will do everything Elena instructs you to do."