"𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘵?"
⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂જ⁀➴
Born into servitude, Zayd finds his place as the stablehand for the illustrious Fitzwilliam family. It is there that he forges a...
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Adelia dashed from the stables, her skirt billowing behind her as she traversed the sprawling fields and ornate corridors of the manor. Arriving at the imposing doors of the grand hall, she paused, gathering her composure before gracefully gliding inside. Within, her family was already assembled at the table, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight, engaged in the ritual of supper.
"Where have you been?" her mother demanded, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized her. Hastily, Adelia took her seat under her withering gaze. Isabella's icy blue eyes joined their mother's, two pairs of crystalline daggers piercing her as she struggled to conceal her breathlessness, hoping they would not notice.
However, her mother's keen eyes missed nothing. She noticed everything, especially when it came to Adelia's shortcomings. Adelia thought she had done well to avoid any telltale signs of her time in the stables—no hay or dirt clung to her skirt or skin—but her mother instantly noted the flush of her cheeks and the disarray of her windblown hair.
"You reek of horse," she spat. "Have you spent all day in the stables again?"
Adelia replied with casual nonchalance, "My mare is with foal. I deemed it only fitting to attend to her needs more frequently."
"Attend to your horse, or your stable boy?" Isabella's voice cut through the air like a whip, sharp and unforgiving.
Adelia found herself struck dumb by her sister's unexpected slight. Despite their distant relationship and skirmishes in their youth, she had never openly disparaged her in front of their parents. Isabella's indifferent gaze, devoid of emotion, only compounded Adelia's astonishment as she watched her resume her meal. Sensing the escalating tension and his wife's mounting ire, the Baron swiftly intervened, as was his custom, to shield his youngest daughter from further contention. It grieved him to witness her singled out for criticism, and he promptly moved to quell the discord.
"Now, now," the Baron soothed the women at the table. "Let us not engage in such pointed remarks over dinner. Adelia's frequent visits to the stables are perfectly justified. She and the stable boy have grown up in each other's company. With her fondness for horses and the riding lessons he dutifully provides, it is only natural for them to develop a friendship." Adelia's eyes crinkled as she beamed at her father. Isabella's expression remained stoic and unchanged, while a telltale vein throbbed on their mother's temple.
"It is high time that stable boy departed," her mother remarked, her tone laced with acid as she disregarded the Baron's attempt at peacemaking. "How many summers has he resided under our roof? Eight? Nine? I am reminded of the initial intention to host him temporarily. Yet, it seems we have been sustaining him for years now, to no avail."
Adelia shot a scathing glare at Isabella, silently cursing her for opening the floodgates of hell. What had sparked this sudden display of hostility? Beneath Adelia's composed exterior, a simmering fury threatened to boil over as she stifled a volley of barbed retorts, refusing to dignify her sister's remark with a response. Over the years, Isabella's glances at Zayd hadn't escaped Adelia's notice—not during her sister's leisurely perambulations around the manor, nor in their fleeting encounters within. Adelia was sorely tempted to expose Isabella's thinly veiled infatuation, to assert that her sister also had a covert admiration for the stable boy, and it was anything but discreet.
