The North's Shadow

Silverware and Shadows

As I followed the head maid Edna's brisk, no-nonsense pace down the winding corridors, Duke Valouron's words echoed in my mind, each one laced with his infuriating self-assuredness. "You'd do well to forget about such things." I clenched my fists, barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes at the memory.

Who appointed him the Grand Protector of all Knowledge? I'd barely had a moment alone in the library—let alone a proper chance to uncover anything remotely helpful about my grandfather—before he strode in with his warnings and cryptic comments.

As we stepped into the vast dining hall, which stretched almost too far to be practical, I caught a few sideways glances from the maids passing by, their low voices trailing in barely hidden whispers and chuckles. Great. My reputation precedes me, I thought, rolling my eyes.

The hall, with its towering windows and grand chandeliers casting a cold, silver light across the room, was beautiful in an austere, intimidating way—just like everything in this place.

Edna continued, crossing her arms as she gave me a once-over. "I expect every surface to be spotless, every piece of silver gleaming," she said, leaving me with a pointed look before stepping out to retrieve linens, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor.

I exhaled sharply, glancing down at the pan loaded with silverware. What I wouldn't give for a modern dishwasher. I hoisted the pan, its unexpected weight tilting my balance. I took a careful step forward, but the unfamiliar hem of my gown snagged under my boot. Before I knew it, the entire pan tipped forward, sending silverware clattering across the floor in a thunderous crash.

From the doorway, I spotted Gregory's disapproving gaze, his brow furrowing as a few maids snickered softly behind him. Perfect. I could practically feel his irritation radiating across the room.

"Unbelievable!" Edna's voice snapped through the air as she returned, her eyes widening at the sight of forks and knives scattered like debris from an explosion. "I leave you alone for two minutes, and you've managed to turn the dining hall into a battlefield."

I flushed. "Guess I'm better suited to dressing like a lumberjack than a lady-in-waiting," I grumbled, bending down to gather the silverware with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. All I want are flannels and coffee. Is that too much to ask? I muttered under my breath, cursing the ridiculous gowns and impractical uniforms.

One of the maids smirked as she passed, whispering something to her companion. I couldn't catch it, but I knew enough to recognize pity mixed with amusement in their glances.

Just then, the door swung open, and I looked up to see Duke Valouron stepping in, his sharp gaze surveying the chaos. He took in the scene with what could only be described as a slight glimmer of satisfaction.

"What in the realm is going on here?" he asked, crossing his arms with that air of superiority that grated on my nerves.

I straightened, trying to look composed. "Just a minor... mishap. This gown isn't exactly made for heavy lifting."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching as if holding back a smirk. "Perhaps in addition to your duties, you should learn to adapt to more refined attire."

My patience snapped. "Perhaps I could if I didn't have to balance ten pounds of cutlery and a gown that could double as a circus tent."

Edna hid a smile, but Duke Valouron's expression stayed stoic. "If you're to remain here, Miss Mackey, I suggest you learn the ways of this place without further... mishaps."

"Got it," I muttered, suppressing the urge to toss a spoon in his direction.

His eyes drifted over the mess, and for a heartbeat, I caught the faint curve of a smirk. He shook his head, barely concealing a sigh as he glanced at Edna. "Make sure it's handled." His words were dismissive, and he didn't bother to look back as he exited, leaving me fuming.