I awoke to the soft, early morning light filtering through the lace curtains of my old bedroom. For a moment, I lay still, my mind struggling to reconcile the familiar surroundings with the tumultuous events that had brought me back to Ferngrove. The quilted blanket, the carved wooden furniture, and the scent of lavender from the garden below—it all felt like a dream, too fragile to be real.I sat up slowly, letting my fingers trail over the edge of the bed, grounding myself in the texture of the embroidered coverlet. A hesitant smile tugged at my lips. I was home, truly home.The door creaked open, and a trio of maids bustled in, their presence both comforting and routine. Each moved with practiced efficiency, carrying towels, soaps, and steaming pitchers of water."Good morning, Lady Maerwynn," the head maid, Agnes, said with a respectful curtsy. "We've drawn your bath."I nodded, still a bit dazed. "Thank you, Agnes."Agnes, like Edina had said, oversees the others. She's more like
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