The town still buzzed with gossip and disdain, but within the palace, the morning unfolded with its own peculiar rhythm. Isabelle and her daughters-in-law had arrived late the previous night, dined lavishly, and retired to their rooms.
Before sleep, they had left behind a strict structure of how they expected their mornings to be conducted — a list of rituals that seemed more suited to a temple than a household.
As the sun rose, Carmine made her way to the in-laws' chamber. The two women, Emily and Gweneth, had been given the same room and one bed, a decision Isabelle had insisted upon for "bonding." Carmine entered quietly, finding them in deep sleep.
Her eyes caught on Emily's neck, where faint scars traced the skin, and along the edges of her chest where the heavy necklaces had left their mark. The jewels are eating her alive, Carmine thought grimly, before waking them with a gentle call.
Her next duty was far more taxing. Waking Isabelle required precision. Carmine knocked three times — no more, no less — before entering with a dark incense stick, its smoke curling through the chamber. Isabelle believed this "awakened" the room, a ritual Carmine found ridiculous but followed nonetheless.
The morning continued with endless demands. Isabelle insisted that the curtains of the entire castle be chained every morning, evening, and night. Carmine had to oversee the process, ensuring every drape was pulled and fastened exactly as instructed.
Then came breakfast: one bowl of warm water for both in-laws to share, a strawberry yogurt mixture for Isabelle, and a plate of fruits arranged to her liking. Lunch preparations followed immediately after, leaving Carmine nearly exhausted before the day had even begun.
Yet Isabelle's audacity knew no bounds. As Carmine presented the meal, Isabelle sniffed and remarked, "The curtains do not look good. My maid from Hauston will be arriving soon. Save the work for her — she knows better."
Relief washed over Carmine at the thought of handing over these absurd duties, but her mind quickly shifted elsewhere. She had not seen Elaine in three days since their return.
The girl had vanished into silence, weighed down by her mother's disgrace and the cruel whispers of the court. Carmine knew she would have to deal with Elaine soon, and the thought unsettled her more than Isabelle's theatrics.
The palace was suffocating under its rituals, its gossip, and its secrets. And as Carmine stepped out into the corridor, she realized that the true storm was not Isabelle's demands, but Elaine's absence.
To be continued…