"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 knelt in the study, her father's figure casting a long shadow over her bowed form.
The Baron sat, his elbow perched heavily on the armrest, his face hidden behind a hand that shielded him from the distressing sight at his feet. Since Adelia had been dragged in by the guards, half-dressed and disarrayed, he had not once met her gaze.
Amidst the chaos of her entrance, Isabella and Eliza's presence went nearly unnoticed. Abigail, who had also been called upon, stood pallid and frozen like a statue. Her wide eyes were locked on her Lady's pitiful form splayed upon the floor. Flanking the room were two guards who bowed their heads in deference. They maintained their reverent postures, averting their gaze to ensure the family's privacy.
The Baroness stood sentinel-like by her husband. Her gaze was a searing examination as she dissected every dishevelled aspect of Adelia's appearance—the rain-drenched hair clinging like forlorn vines, the loose underdress betraying an unintended glimpse of her breast, and the mud-splattered hem of her skirts tracing a trail of dirt across the pristine floor to where she knelt.
The Baron stole a glance through the crevice between his fingers before directing his command to Abigail, his face flushed with embarrassment. "Fetch a blanket immediately. Cover her shame." Abigail returned swiftly with a thick, woollen blanket that she draped over Adelia's shoulders, shielding her from the room's prying eyes.
Since childhood, Abigail had witnessed all of Adelia's joys and sorrows, but never before such a public spectacle of shame. "You must be strong, my Lady," Abigail whispered, her voice low and soothing, meant only for Adelia's ears. "This storm will pass. Trust in your father's judgment, even if it feels harsh now."
"Do not speak to her," the Baroness snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a cold blade. "Do not look at her. Stand by the door." Abigail obeyed without another word, retreating to her shadowed corner.
As Adelia was covered, the Baron's face emerged. Silent tears streaked down Adelia's cheeks as she beheld the devastation etched upon her father's countenance. Never had she seen him so shattered. Amidst the emotions that streaked his face—pain, regret, contempt—his expression spoke of deep heartbreak.
"Adelia," he began, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. "Do you understand the gravity of your actions?"
Adelia longed to curl into a weeping ball and surrender into the darkness of her chambers, where she could sleep off this nightmare. But she knew she must not. Throughout her life, Adelia had always used her wit and charm to extricate herself from trouble. If ever there was a moment to wield those gifts, it was now. Summoning every ounce of courage, she met her father's gaze.
"Father," she began, her voice a fragile whisper, "I know I have brought shame upon this family, but my heart is not governed by duty alone. Zayd... he is more than just a stable boy to me. He is my solace in a world that has always seemed so stifling."
