"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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When Adelia entered the study, she found her entire family gathered. The heavy curtains were drawn tight against the morning light, leaving only the spitting fire to cast flickering shadows across the room.
Her parents loomed by the crackling hearth, their expressions marked by grave concern. Isabella was the only one seated, her composure contrasting with the chaos at her feet where Eliza, her red-haired maid, sprawled in disarray. Tears streaked down Eliza's flushed cheeks as she clung desperately to Isabella's skirt, whispering words that Adelia strained to hear from across the room. Isabella's expression gave nothing away, as if Eliza was not there at all.
Her father appeared worn, the lines on his face carved deeper than Adelia had ever seen. Whether it was the play of shadows that the flames cast harshly across his weathered skin or the toll of a sleepless night, she couldn't tell. But it was when she looked at her mother that she knew something was terribly wrong.
"Come in." The Baroness's voice retained its usual sharp, cutting edge, though her eyes betrayed her. They were red-rimmed and swollen, the delicate skin beneath them puffed and shadowed. "Close the door behind you."
"What's the matter?" Adelia's voice trembled with a shrill edge as she stepped inside. Abigail closed the door behind them, then stood quietly at the edge of the room, her head bowed low.
"What has happened?" Adelia asked again, this time directing her question to her father. Adelia's gaze moved from him to the sunken face of her mother, then to her sister and her maid. Eliza, still crying, stifled her sobs in an effort to remain silent.
"Speak, my Lady," Eliza pleaded with Isabella, gripping the folds of her Lady's skirt tightly. Urgency trembled in her whispers, her eyes pleading for a response, but Isabella remained silent and unmoving. "My Lady, I beg you. Say something!"
Isabella swayed under Eliza's grip, the maid's trembling hands clutching her legs. She tried to kick free, but Eliza only tightened her hold.
"We need to discuss something important with you," the Baron began gently, Eliza's cries fading into the background. Though he appeared weary, a tender warmth shone in his eyes as he gazed upon his daughter. "There have been some changes. Sit down, my dear."
Adelia took a few steps forward but did not sit. She and her family now formed a tense circle. "What is it that we must discuss?" she asked.
The Baron's eyes darted nervously, his weight shifting uneasily from the balls of his feet to his toes. He rocked back and forth in this motion several times before finally summoning the courage to convey the news.
"The Duke... has expressed his wish to marry you," he admitted.
Adelia was silent for a moment. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards, a confused smile forming even as her brow furrowed in despair. A disbelieving chuckle caught in her throat, fizzling into silence by the time it reached her lips. She looked around the room to meet each pair of eyes, half-expecting someone to share in her incredulity with a laugh. When no one did, her smile faltered. She glanced back at Abigail, who was still staring at her feet.
