Chapter 7

I wander around the palace for what seems like hours until I eventually locate Gertrude's room. The gold-painted letters 'G. Cliffgard' are painted on the door, so I know it's hers.

I stop to breathe and wrap my hand around the knob before twisting it open to hear voices coming from inside.

I am instantly struck by how wonderful the lady's suite is, far nicer than my chamber in the maid's quarters. Pressed up against the wall is a four-poster bed with a gossamer curtain; two nightstands on either side are piled high with hair clips and makeup. The room's lone window is positioned next to a white dresser, and I can see a doorway leading to an ensuite on the right wall.

Gertrude is sitting in front of her white vanity mirror, touching up her lips with scarlet lipstick, and I watch Macy folding clothes. There's a peculiar tension in the air when our eyes meet in the mirror. She appears significantly older today, as if she had aged by ten years instead of just three. Her grey-blue eyes appear to have sunk even deeper into her face, and her mousy-brown hair now reaches her shoulders. She frowns tightly at me, her nose protruding like a painful thumb.

Luckily, she doesn't mention my identity. Simply waving to the heap of garments on her bed, she adds, "Don't distract me. Pack those away."

She's already staring back into the mirror as I nod. I approach Macy slowly, and that's when I see her thin lip line. She appears to be holding back her tears, and none of that light is in her face. I wonder what Gertrude said to her prior to my arrival.

Our gazes meet, but nothing says anything on her face. I silently grab a blouse and head over to the dresser. Macy follows suit, and for a short period we just keep putting her clothing away. As we go, I see that Macy's limp gets worse and that she appears to be in discomfort. Unfortunately, Gertrude notices and turns to face her, telling her to stop limping. It is obtrusive. God, who the hell decided that it would be a good idea to adamantly designate a limper?" She continues as she turns back to applying makeup.

I clutch the dress tightly in my hands. Though I was aware of Gertrude's rudeness, I never imagined her to be quite so cruel. Even yet, I swallow my rage as we keep moving around the room in silence. Macy vanishes into the ensuite while I keep putting away clothing. When she finally comes back, she has a pitcher of water and is about to place it on the nightstand when she trips and spills the entire thing over her leg.

The entire right side of the bed is covered in water. Standing, Gertrude is glaring at her. "God, look what you've done!"

Macy retreats with a cringe. "I'm sorry."

"Are you sorry? Fuck tidying it up! God, I don't need crips like you; I'm going to have to ask for new maids."

"She said she was sorry, alright?"

Gertrude looks up at me. It just blurted out; I hadn't intended to say anything. I chin up and straighten a little, but the encounter makes my heart race.

Her gaze narrows at me. "Runt, did I not say you could talk? Give up."

It takes all of my strength not to curse her out as my throat boils. Nevertheless, I am aware that having slack lips is not a good idea. Gertrude has greater control over me and us, therefore it would be counterproductive for us to argue. Thus, I bowed my head in surrender.

We keep packing and are dismissed as soon as we're finished. Macy sniffles the instant we're outside. Then pauses. Her crimson, shiny eyes catch my attention.

I hurt physically looking at that. Even though I don't really know Macy, there's something about the vivacious girl who'd made my first day at least bearable that makes me want to cry. I immediately give Macy a strong hug while she tears on my shoulder. It's okay. Let it out."

Macy snorts. She remarks, "She's so mean." "I did everything right and she still, yet she... No one's ever even called me that before."

She trembles in voice, and I sigh. I yank her back till I'm looking directly into her hazel eyes. They are bloodshot and shiny.

It's probably time I told you, because the Cliffgards have a long history of rudeness. In fact, I had already met Gertrude. Though I had hoped that she would change, she hasn't improved." 

Macy swipes her arm beneath her nose and sniffs once again. "Even so, I don't hear that much. Most people are really nice."

I take us over to the maid's quarters, resting my hand on the small of her back. Luckily, I am familiar enough with the route there. "Well, if it's any consolation, me and my siblings joked that her rudeness must have soured her face."

Macy snorts. "Really?"

I give a nod. Indeed. Do you think you've seen the girl? She resembles a bullfrog.

She laughs, and the brightness suddenly returns to her face. A little, but not much. We ultimately return to our room, and even after saying that, I can still sense that Macy is depressed. I approach my dresser without thinking and open the jewelry box that is resting on top. I extract the pearl and golden necklace that glimmers inside. Given that pearls are extremely rare and can only be obtained in the Triule Islands, they have long been associated with nobility. They are only affordable to nobility. I let the necklace hang in front of my face and stared at it, my throat constricted slightly. I got this jewelry from my mother. I had loved it ever since because it was the one gift she had ever given me and the only genuine affection she had ever showed me.

I clench it in my palms. However, hadn't she still allowed me to leave?

I turn to face Macy and extend the necklace. Her eyes widen as they come to rest on it. "I want you to have this."

Her mouth is slightly open as she blinks at me. "Really?"

"Yes," I reply, despite the fact that the word hurts my chest. Nevertheless, it's all worthwhile when Macy's countenance brightens and she hobbles over, the incident with Gertrude long forgotten. She smiles, lets me put the necklace around her neck, and lifts her locks. She looks stunning in it. Looked better on me than it ever did.

I ask, "Do you like it?"

"It's stunning," she remarks. She glances at me, her grin faltering, her face finally contorting. "You are being too kind with this. It's the sweetest thing anyone has done for me, in my opinion." She pulls me into an embrace as she puts her arms around me. "I'm grateful. This is quite significant.

I repress her. Yes, perhaps I won't miss Mom's necklace as much as I had anticipated.

We split up after a short while, and I feel a constriction in my throat telling me to leave. I don't need Macy to witness my impending tears. 

I make my way toward the door and say, "I'll be right back; I just need some fresh air." Macy looks at the necklace and beams at me, not caring that I'm sad. I must be becoming more adept at controlling my feelings.

The floodgates I'd been holding back all day suddenly open as I step outside into the hallway, and before I know it, silent tears are streaming down my cheeks. I cry because I was robbed of this opportunity. I cry because, unlike my other sisters, I am no longer a respected lady—I am simply a maid. I cry because I feel helpless and angry with Gertrude. I weep because I am supposed to serve the cruel Gahndors.

I feel like the air is being torn out of me as I gasp and my chest sinks with a loud thump just as I turn a bend. My heart quivers, then calms down. First, second. It twitches once more. But then again. But then again.

Dunk, dunk, dunk, tha, dunk, dunk, tha. Oh my god.