Selene stared into the middle distance, her vision unfocused, her mind circling the sa thoughts endlessly like trapped animal.
Then—
Knock! Knock!
The sound jolted her from the spiral.
"My lady?" A maid’s voice ca muffled through the door. Young and nervous. "There’s... soone here. Wanting to et with you. They’re waiting in the guest room with Lord Ferick."
Footsteps retreated quickly. The maid clearly didn’t want to linger, didn’t want to face whatever mood her mistress might be in.
Selene closed her eyes. Drew slow breath through clenched teeth.
Couldn’t they just co later?
The thought was bitter. Because she had no capacity for visitors right now.
No strength for maintaining facades, for political niceties, for pretending she was anything other than this.
But duty didn’t care about personal devastation, it demanded performance regardless of internal state.
She stood slowly, her legs protesting. Smoothed her dress with trembling hands, straightening wrinkles, adjusting fabric that had bunched awkwardly while she’d been sitting on the floor.
Moved to the small mirror mounted on the wall. Stared at her reflection.
Disaster.
Her face was blotchy from crying. Eyes red and swollen. Hair disheveled. Makeup sared and ruined.
She worked quickly. Wiped her face with handkerchief until most evidence of tears was gone.
Finger-combed her hair into sothing approaching presentable, pinning it back with practiced efficiency. No ti for proper styling, but at least it looked intentional rather than neglected.
The mask ca last. The expression. The carefully constructed facade of Baroness Selene Glimor, composed, controlled, unshakeable.
She watched herself transform in the mirror.
Perfect.
Then she turned from the mirror and walked to the door. Opened it. Stepped into the corridor with posture that suggested complete composure.
Tap! Tap!
The corridor leading to the guest room felt longer than usual. Each step required conscious effort. Each breath carefully asured.
She could hear voices from inside as she approached. Male voices. One familiar, her husband’s, carrying that particular tone he used when discussing things he found amusing or profitable. The other...
I know that voice.
Her heart began pounding harder. Not from exertion. From recognition that brought imdiate tension.
She stopped before the door. Drew one more steadying breath. Arranged her expression into polite neutrality.
Then opened it and stepped inside.
And froze.
The guest room was well-appointed, comfortable furniture arranged for conversation, afternoon light filtering through curtains, tea service laid out on the table. Standard setup for receiving visitors of appropriate rank.
But Selene’s attention fixed on the figure sitting on the main couch with ease that suggested complete ownership of the space despite being guest.
Honey-blonde hair, perfectly grood without single strand out of place. Expensive clothing in latest fashion, tailored precisely to emphasize athletic build. Posture that radiated confidence, power, superiority.
And honey-gold eyes that lifted to et hers as she entered.
He smiled.
"Ah, good to see you." His voice was casual. Friendly. Like they were old acquaintances rather than what they actually were. "How are you doing, Selene?"
Selene’s jaw tightened fractionally before she forced herself to relax. To maintain the mask. To offer appropriate courtesy despite every instinct screaming to throw him out.
She gave a polite bow.
"I am well, thank you for your concern, Lord Lucius."
Lucius Glimor.
Head of the main family.
The vulture who circled whenever branch families showed weakness.
Lucius gestured gracefully to the chair across from him. "Please. Sit. We have much to discuss."
Selene moved to the indicated seat. Her eyes tracked briefly to the other occupant of the room, her husband, Ferick Glimor, sitting in chair beside Lucius with expression of barely contained glee.
Ferick was... exactly what one would expect from degenerate branch family mber. Mid-forties in appearance but looking older due to excessive indulgence. Thinning blonde hair. Face flushed with perpetual wine-drinking. Eyes that tracked any attractive woman who passed with obvious hunger.
He cared about three things: money, wine, and won. Preferably all three simultaneously. And he pursued them with single-minded devotion that would be admirable if applied to literally anything worthwhile.
Selene had long since stopped expecting anything from him. Their marriage was political arrangent, his connection to Glimor na, her administrative competence keeping the barony functional. They maintained separate chambers, not even once she had let him near her, even after her marriage. Which was why her parents had branded her as infertile, who can’t produce any Glimor heirs for their connection, so they’d served ties with her.
And ever since the marriage, Ferick and Selene separate lives, separate worlds that only intersected when absolutely necessary.
She sat across from both n. Posture perfect. Expression neutral. Heart pounding with growing dread because whatever had brought Lucius here, whatever had made Ferick look so pleased, it wasn’t good.
Lucius turned his gaze to Ferick. "So you agree to what I said? Right?"
Ferick grinned. Wide and greedy. The expression of man who’d just been offered sothing he desperately wanted.
"Hell yes, I do!" His voice carried enthusiasm usually reserved for new wine shipnts or pretty servants
"Wait." Selene’s voice cut through. Sharper than intended. She forced it back to polite inquiry. "My lord, if you don’t mind... what exactly are you talking about?"
Her eyes moved between them. Reading body language, tracking micro-expressions, trying to understand what agreent had been reached without her knowledge or consent.
What did Ferick agree to? What does Lucius want?
Lucius turned to face her fully. His smile remained in place. Warm. Pleasant. Utterly terrifying in its implications.
"I’m taking Elina," he said simply. Casually. Like announcing he’d be borrowing a book rather than claiming a person.
The world stopped.
Selene stared at him. Her mind refusing to process the words properly because they made no sense.
"What?" Her voice ca out barely above whisper.
Lucius’s smile widened slightly. "Elina. I’m taking her into the main family. Formally adopting her as my ward. She’ll co to live at my estate, receive proper training befitting soone of her potential and... be grood for appropriate marriage."
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