"Theoretically, of course," Lady Mallory emphasizes, staring at me intently.If you ask me, handing something as lethal as this plant to someone she sees as a thirteen-year-old girl doesn't seem like the smartest idea on her part.
"Why? Why now and not before?" I ask, trying to stay composed as I attempt to decipher the puzzle that is the woman in front of me.
"Because you've supported Malcol in ways you didn't before, because he cares for you as much as you care for him, because you're willing to risk yourself for that, and I know you'll now do what's necessary to keep them safe," she says, adjusting herself before leaning closer. "Because now you understand that I don't need to dirty my own hands to get rid of you if you ever become a threat to my son," she adds in a low voice, without a shred of doubt.
I could reply that the one who holds the cow and the one who kills it are equally guilty, but her tone makes my skin prickle, so I keep the comment to myself while trying to push away the suffocating feeling of the humid, heavy greenhouse air.
I fold my arms and lean forward.
"But if you had something like this, why haven't you used it already?" I don't even need to specify on whom.
Lady Mallory nods and reclines back in her chair, lacing her fingers together.
"I began this project after the first night of my marital life. It was enough for me to understand what kind of person I had been bound to, but it took years to create such a perfect specimen. Once I had a son, there was far more to consider—and far more to lose. I no longer lived for myself alone.»As I said, there are many inconveniences: the fatal consequences of such a man's downfall, but above all, that I might be linked to the act. Anyone perceptive would look to me first. I always feared that if I were gone, no one would protect Malcol. But I am no longer alone in this, and no one would ever suspect a child who shows love for her father. Never," she says with unsettling calm, though the satisfied gleam in her eyes betrays her.
I swallow hard. The need to escape this glass trap begins to tighten around my chest. I stand up immediately.
"I understand, and I appreciate your gift… I think," I say, unable to fully conceal the doubt in my voice.
I reach for the plant, but she stops me, gripping my wrist firmly.
"Wait," she exclaims, leaning toward a wooden case with a handle and metal latches I hadn't noticed beside her chair. "We wouldn't want anyone to see this gift, would we?" she asks, eyes narrowed at me.
"Of course not," I say quickly, hoping she doesn't notice the sweat running down my back.
"Even if someone did see you, I could always say you stole it from me without my knowledge," she comments, placing the small pot inside the case with delicate care. "It's more for your safety than anything else."
When she hands it to me, she takes my face in her hands and leans in even closer.
"I know you'll do well. You truly are a brave and intelligent girl," she says with a gentleness that feels foreign coming from her, though the warm smile fits her disturbingly well. "Though far too cynical for your own good," she finishes, with a teasing lilt.
I step back and shrug.
"I don't know—maybe cynicism is what keeps me standing sometimes," like now, when I refuse to show fear.
"Perhaps," she replies thoughtfully, studying me with a hand on her chin. "By the way, don't forget to water the plant twice a week. That will be enough."
"Understood. I'll keep that in mind, Katlya," I reply, holding her gaze for a few seconds. "I suppose I can call you that now, don't you think?" I add before turning away, not waiting for her response.
Leaving the greenhouse is an immediate relief. The suffocating climate and the stench of rotting leaves cling to me like an invisible weight. I take a deep breath and hurry toward my room, the guard assigned to me following as a silent reminder of how vulnerable I am here.
"Did everything go well, my lady?" Magdia asks as soon as I step inside.
"Yes, but I need a moment alone," I respond, letting myself fall into an armchair.
"Of course, my lady. We'll withdraw, but call us if you need anything," she says formally, giving me a look equal parts inquisitive and worried. Eleni leaves as well, more subtle about her concern.
A vortex of doubts spins in my mind.Katlya… is she on my side, or just pretending until it's convenient to stab me in the back?Gods. Anyone here can stab you in the back. Or from the front, if necessary.
I feel trapped in my thoughts, so exhausted that I lose track of time—until I finally realize something simple and cruel:If I don't act, this world will devour me.
The truth is I have no choice. Trap or not, there is no other way out.So I will have to kill a man… or rather, a monster.Because not doing so will kill me, and there is nothing worse than that.
I open the case. I take a dry petal that had fallen in the pot and crush it with a brooch until it becomes powder. I fold it into a small paper square and call my attendants.
"Magdia, I need you to guide me to my father's office," I say bluntly.
The two glance at each other, alarmed. Eleni avoids my eyes; Magdia clears her throat.
"My lady, I don't think that's a good idea. Your father arrived at the villa yesterday. He's the kind of man one shouldn't address unless he speaks first. If you encounter him, I fear he won't take it well," she says with painful tact.
I walk toward the door, afraid of losing my momentum.
"It doesn't matter, Magdia. Just guide me," I command, leaving no room for protest. I turn briefly. "Eleni, it's better if you stay here."
"But, my lady, I want to go with you," she says almost shouting—very unlike her.
Magdia begins walking down the hall.
"For your own good, do as I say, Eleni," I warn gently as I leave.
We walk through service corridors I've never seen before. I always avoided the main mansion… because of the man I am now approaching directly, as if walking toward the gallows.
Once inside, I notice everything is even more luxurious than I remembered: walls lined with paintings in golden frames, red carpets, furniture carved or gilded in gold.
Finally, Magdia stops.
"We're here, my lady," she says, standing beside a column. "Those doors, where the guards are, that's your father's office," she indicates with her eyes. "We could still turn back," she whispers, head bowed.
"There's no turning back, Magdia. Even if I wished it. Wait for me in the service corridors. I'll find you when I'm done," I say sincerely.
She looks like she wants to protest, but glances at the guards and simply nods before leaving.
I approach the intricately carved double doors, but the guards cross their spears, blocking my way.
"By direct order of Regentus Mallory, access to this chamber is strictly forbidden without his explicit authorization. His will is law. His word, decree," they recite in unison.
"Do you even know whom you're barring, you pair of blasphemers? I am the daughter of Regentus Mallory, and you don't want to imagine what will happen if I tell him of this offense," I say with studied indignation. "Though I'm sure you can imagine it," I add with a cruel smile.
They exchange a terrified look. One opens the door, and I slip inside before they come to their senses.
My heart hammers in my chest.Regentus Mallory is not here.
My legs buckle, and I slide to the floor, leaning against the door.The office is dim; only faint light filters through the heavy curtains.
I force myself to move. I pull a curtain aside and head to the desk.
Relief washes over me when I see a side table with a blue bottle resting in ice and a half-filled glass.Who would've thought I'd ever be grateful for a man's alcoholism?
I pour the poison into the bottle.I watch the tiny dark sediments sink.And for a moment, reality hits me:
I am about to kill a man.A monster, yes—but still a man.
My stomach churns; cold sweat gathers on my skin. I grip the bottle so I don't spill everything in a sudden irrational impulse.I'm so focused on setting it in place that I don't hear the door open.
"What is the meaning of this?" Regentus Mallory roars, his face twisting with growing fury.
His sharp voice snaps me out of my trance. Before he explodes, I rush toward him and fall to my knees, bowing until my forehead touches the floor. The stench of fermented liquor, smoke, and a piercing perfume invades my nose.
"Father, I came to apologize for being a nuisance and a disappointment, but you no longer have anything to worry about. I'll be the best fiancée, devoted to whoever you choose, bringing as much honor and greatness as my union can offer," the lies tumble from my mouth, but I try to make them sound sincere.
I only hear his breathing, calmer now. I lift my head. His gaze dissects me.
"Father, nothing makes me happier than pleasing you," I add quickly.
He begins to smile… but the smile never reaches his eyes.His hand strikes my cheek with such force that it knocks me to the side.
The world trembles. I crawl away until I bump into a piece of furniture, tasting blood.
Mallory walks calmly to his chair.
"That is for entering and addressing me without permission. Though I am pleased that you finally seem to be coming to your senses and doing what's expected of you," he says, smiling viciously. "I don't want to have to discipline you for failing to meet the standard of an excelsa lady, but the honor of House Mallory comes before all."
He grabs the blue bottle and drinks straight from it.
My cheek throbs. My mind drifts back to what I read about the original Laila—her pathetic desire for affection from a monster, her desperate search for love in every cold glance.
I, however, only wish he would disappear.For me.For Malcol.
The guilt departs, leaving only relief behind.
I don't move.I watch every motion of his throat as he swallows.
He still has a long way to go before finishing the bottle, but he will. And that will end his cruelty.
"What are you waiting for to leave? Do you want me to strike you again to get you out of my sight?" he growls, taking another swig.
I stand up immediately.
The doors are too heavy. I pound on them in desperation until they finally open. I slip out; a glass shatters against the wood just as I escape.
I hurry down the hallway, almost running, until I feel something wet on my cheek.A shard must have cut me.
I don't stop.
Three days later, I learn that Regentus Mallory has fallen into a coma, and no one can explain the cause.