Chapter 18 – Raelyn
Chapter Eighteen
RAELYN
I’m almost embarrassed at the amount of tears I shed last night. My eyes are still puffy, but I refuse to cry anymore. With my plans of stealing back my dresses on hold after the disastrous sham of a dinner, I look around my room, trying to decide what is most important to bring to my new quarters.
Grabbing an empty trunk from my closet, I drag it into the middle of the room.
A few trinkets I collected over the years go in, along with my favorite books, completed needlework projects, and a few pieces of jewelry.
When the trunk is full of the only things I care about, I take one last glance around the room I’ve spent my entire life in before leaving, lugging the heavy thing behind me.
My stomach rumbles as I pull the trunk down the hallway and almost run into Ingrid, the only remaining kitchen maid.
“Here, let me help you with that, Lady Raelyn.”
“Thank you, Ingrid,” I say with a smile.
“I can’t believe they’re kicking you out of your room,” she says almost conspiratorially. “Rumor has it that Lady Astoria is just trying to put you in your place.”
“As if she hasn’t done that enough already,” I scoff. “Haven’t I done everything she’s asked of me?”
“She thinks you are your father’s weakness,” she whispers. “She hates the fact that you’re his favorite.”
“What does she think is going to happen when he returns?” I question. “Surely this won’t win her any favors with him.”
Ingrid looks around nervously. “One of the footmen overheard her discussing his lengthy absence. I don’t think he’ll return for quite some time.”
My heart sinks. Not only do I miss him, but he also needs to be home if there is any hope of arranging a marriage contract between Kian and me. Knowing Stepmother, she’ll reject all offers just to spite me.
“I’m sorry, Lady Raelyn. I didn’t mean to make you sad,” Ingrid says.
“It’s okay. I was just really hoping he would return soon.”
“Lady Astoria is nearly tyrannical. He can’t return soon enough.”
We finally arrive in the cramped servants’ quarters, and Ingrid stops in front of one of the doors. “This room is available, if you want it.”
“Thanks,” I say, and she gives me a nod.
The door creaks as it opens on a shoebox of a room.
A rickety-looking single bed is pushed up against one wall, and the tiny window barely lets in any of the morning light—probably for the best, though surprisingly, I feel okay despite my venture into the sun yesterday.
A small wardrobe takes up the other half of the room.
I almost shudder at the dirty bucket that looks like it’s been used as a chamber pot.
“Thanks again for your help,” I say, and push my trunk to the only remaining wall space next to the bed.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you feel more settled,” she replies, turning to leave.
“Do you know what happened to Sera?” I ask, stopping her and suddenly feeling more alone than ever before.
“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “She was dismissed with the others right after Lord Astoria left.
My shoulders sag. I’d hoped her absence was only temporary.
“You should come down to the kitchen for breakfast, Lady Raelyn,” Ingrid says. “You’re looking a little weak.”
“You’re right. And please, just call me Raelyn. I’m fairly certain ‘lady’ has been stripped from my title by my dearest stepmother.”
Ingrid smiles awkwardly. “If you say so.”
My stomach grumbles again, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday.
Once we enter the kitchen, our chef looks at me with pity in his eyes.
Oh no. He points toward the table where my tonic sits.
“Your tonic is ready for you, my lady, but you are not allowed any breakfast. Lady Astoria’s orders. ”
Rage washes over me, and I hold back a scream. “Are you kidding me, Fred?”
“I do apologize, but Lady Astoria was very clear. She promised to take it out of my wages if I give you any food.” His shoulders curl in on themselves, and I do think he actually feels bad. Pointing to a sheet of paper next to my tonic, he says, “There’s a list of your chores for the day.”
“I’d sure like to know how Stepmother expects me to get anything done when I’m about to pass out from hunger.”
Fred shrugs and turns back to his chopping, as if looking at me for one moment longer would only make him feel guiltier.
Ingrid gives me a pitying look and starts to prep the eggs.
I snatch up the tonic and the sheet of paper and march out of the kitchen.
The pile of clothes has doubled in size since the night before, and I shove the tonic into my apron pocket along with the list and start pushing the cart toward our washroom.
My anger radiates off me in waves. Best I take it out on the laundry instead of the other servants. They are only taking care of themselves, and Stepmother is quite vindictive.
I want someone to choose me. To look out for me. I’m tired of being treated like I don’t matter.