REIGN

Chapter7 "Nothern Witch"

OLIVIA (VALAIS-WEST KINGDOM)

Olivia sat alone in her small, dim quarters, the events of the past days replaying in her mind like a twisted fable. She was supposed to be preparing for her marriage to one of the noble sons from the East-a marriage that would have fortified her family's alliance with Valais and strengthened their position. Her future had been secured. Or so she'd believed. Now here she was, alone and chained, and her home was in ruins, taken by the very man who once promised peace.

The new Lord Braham had torn everything apart with chilling ease, and his pride was evident in every smirk and sneer he'd directed at his "spoils." That the cursed King's daughter-had chosen her as a personal servant was just another insult, a mockery of her once-high position. Olivia gritted her teeth as she looked around her sparse quarters, a thin mattress the only comfort in this cold, unfamiliar place.

"This isn't forever," she murmured, trying to steel herself. "I'll find my brothers, and we'll make them pay."

She washed quickly, her hands scrubbing away the grime from her time in the cells. She'd been given a plain dress in a dull gray-a far cry from the colorful gowns she once wore but, she supposed, better than the filthy rags she'd had before. With a final deep breath, she moved to the door, ready for her first task: delivering food to the cursed princess herself.

The castle corridors were alive with the murmur of servants and the distant clang of hammers as repairs continued. As she passed, she caught glimpses of other servants, a few of them familiar faces from her homeland. They didn't make eye contact, but she could feel their silent sympathy-a shared recognition that they were all prisoners in this gilded cage.

When she reached Irene's door, Olivia hesitated. 'Why did she choose me?' The question gnawed at her. Did Irene want to watch her suffer? Did she enjoy lording her power over her new "slave"? Olivia's jaw clenched as she knocked.

"Come in," came Irene's soft voice from the other side.

Olivia opened the door and stepped in, her gaze carefully neutral as she walked toward the small table near the window and set down the tray of food. Irene sat by the window, her gaze distant as she watched something outside. Her profile was striking against the morning light-skin as pale as porcelain, red hair like fire catching the sun, and eyes that glinted green as emeralds. She seemed lost in thought, almost fragile. Olivia scowled at herself for thinking it; fragility was not a luxury the northerners could afford.

Just as Olivia was about to leave, Irene's voice halted her.

"Do you hate me?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. Olivia's mouth went dry. Did she know? Had she guessed? Olivia stayed silent, unsure if speaking would give away too much, but Irene turned, her gaze meeting Olivia's with unsettling intensity.

"Do you?" Irene asked again, her voice soft, yet oddly steady.

Olivia swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet those piercing green eyes. "No," she replied, a lie she barely kept from cracking. The truth was, she despised this girl, her father, and everything they represented. Yet something in Irene's gaze made her uneasy. Those eyes seemed to see past her mask, peering into the thoughts she fought to hide.

Irene's lips turned up in a small, knowing smile. "Good," she murmured, turning back to the window. "Then you may go."

Olivia didn't need to be told twice. She spun on her heel, feeling a chill creep up her spine as she quickly exited the room. She felt as if Irene's gaze followed her long after she closed the door, like she was some strange sorceress or even a witch. 'Yes', Olivia thought, her heartbeat quickening. 'That's it. She is a Nothern witch, and her father's cursed.* That would explain the strange hold they had over people, why her own people bowed so easily.