Rina kept her gaze on Clara a moment longer than she should have.
This time, it wasn't a childish look.
It was an attempt to read what lay behind the smile.
Before expressions could shift, she heard footsteps—ones whose rhythm she knew well.
Osana never made noise when she walked,
yet her presence announced itself without needing sound.
She stopped behind Karina and placed both hands on her shoulders.
The touch was steady, unwavering.
Hands accustomed to holding decisions before they ever held people.
"Rina, why are you alone? Has the Second Prince left?"
Rina nodded immediately, as if the question itself had reorganized her thoughts.
Her grandmother's presence didn't change the place… but it changed how it felt to be in it.
Across the room, Clara saw Osana.
She didn't freeze.
She didn't falter.
But she subtly shifted her weight onto her back foot, like someone choosing not to stand in the middle.
The two women exchanged a brief look.
Not long enough to be called a confrontation.
Not fleeting enough to be forgotten.
Clara bowed, then withdrew.
As she left, Osana's eyes met Karina's.
They held each other's gaze for a moment—as if both understood what hadn't been said—
then they laughed, a quick, shared laugh, like an agreement to move past something without explaining it.
But the voice that echoed from the entrance cut through that lightness:
"We welcome Count Flax."
Heads turned, slowly.
The count entered first.
His steps weren't fast or slow… they were deliberate.
Beside him, the countess.
Her features were tightly composed, as though she only allowed her face to relax in front of a mirror.
And with them, another woman.
No one recognized her.
Her elegance wasn't loud, but it was intentional.
Her posture didn't seek attention, yet it didn't avoid it either.
Her gaze didn't explore the hall… it measured it.
Behind them was Victoria,
and beside her, her younger brother, trying to match the formal rhythm with a body that hadn't yet learned stillness.
Rina almost rushed forward.
But she saw her grandmother.
So she stepped ahead more calmly—though her excitement still outran her by half a step.
"Welcome, Count and Countess, to the duchy's founding anniversary."
Osana spoke with a measured smile—neither excessive nor cold.
Karina's eyes slid toward the countess.
This woman…
once just a name whispered through the corridors of investigation.
Abuse.
Muffled screaming.
Repeated complaints.
Victoria used to complain endlessly.
Then suddenly, she stopped.
But—
who was this new woman?
She hadn't been mentioned in any invitation.
She hadn't appeared at any gathering.
Her presence didn't feel like a coincidence.
"Thank you for inviting us, Lady Osana Verche."
The countess spoke, pulling her son slightly closer in a gesture that didn't quite reveal whether it was affection… or possession.
Then—
"Vikiii!"
Rina didn't wait for protocol.
She rushed forward and hugged her tightly.
Victoria's body tensed at first—a reflex shaped by caution—
then slowly gave in to the embrace.
They laughed.
A raw, unpolished laugh.
Osana stepped closer.
"How are you, Miss Victoria?"
Victoria let out a small gasp and bowed.
"I'm well, my lady."
The words came out straighter than suited her age.
The countess's gaze settled on her.
"Mind your manners."
She didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to.
"Yes."
Victoria answered quickly.
Only then did she breathe again… as if allowing her lungs to work once more.
But Rina grabbed her hand and pulled her away.
Her laughter rose—light, clear.
"Rina, don't run, dear."
Osana said.
Rina nodded, though she didn't slow much.
"Viki! Tomorrow is your birthday! You'll be thirteen!"
Victoria paused for half a moment.
Thirteen.
Not quite a big number… but not a childish one either.
Then she laughed.
And they ran.
Their steps uneven.
Their laughter overlapping.
And the hall—usually so strict—allowed itself, just this once, to hear the sound of their childhood without protest.
Karina moved with genuine excitement, pointing at the high arches, the paintings that preserved dates older than their lives, and the armor that was no longer used yet still gleamed as if waiting for another war.
She spoke quickly, jumping from one story to another, her voice rising and falling without rhythm.
Their laughter—hers and Victoria's—didn't stay tucked in a corner.
Some heads turned.
The hall wasn't used to this kind of lightness.
Karina suddenly grabbed Viki's hand, impulsively.
"What if we—"
Victoria's face tightened.
Her brows drew together as she pulled her hand back quickly.
"Karina… my hand. Don't touch it."
Karina froze for a second, then lowered her hand immediately.
Only then did she notice.
The gloves.
Viki hadn't been wearing them when she arrived.
Silk gloves, covering her hands completely, tighter than they should be.
Karina's expression changed.
Heat rushed to her cheeks—not embarrassment… anger.
"Is she hurting you again?"
Victoria didn't lift her eyes.
She just gave a small nod.
She stared at the gloves as if they were evidence of a crime.
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she wiped them away before they could fall.
She had learned not to give tears freedom.
But this time, Karina didn't step back.
She grabbed her shoulders and shook her.
"Viki! How long are you going to stay like this?! Until she kills you?! Move! You have to change something!"
"Karina… stop shaking me… there's nothing I can do!"
Karina let go of her suddenly, as if she had hit an invisible wall.
Then she shook her head.
"No. There is. Trust me."
She didn't explain.
She didn't leave room for refusal.
She took her wrist—carefully this time—and pulled her out of the hall.
They passed through quieter corridors, the lights dimmer, the voices distant,
until they reached the balcony.
Cold air hit their faces.
The silence here was different… wider.
Karina sat down and gestured for her to sit.
"How did this happen?"
Victoria didn't answer immediately.
She looked at her hands.
Then slowly removed one glove.
The skin beneath was revealed.
Bruises layered over each other, shades of deep blue and sickly yellow.
Wounds not yet healed.
Fingers trembling without control.
Karina swallowed hard.
For a moment, she wished she hadn't asked to see.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to break.
Victoria began speaking.
"I was at dinner… with the countess… and my father's mistress. After my father left the table."
She paused, wiping away a tear that escaped without permission.
"I finished eating… I wanted to leave… but his mistress stopped me."
A brief silence.
"As if the memory needed courage to continue."
"She said I don't eat enough… the countess replied that I was full… then she interrupted her. She said the countess treats me badly… hurts me… I tried to defend her… because I know… she threatens me with something if I don't."
She gasped.
Both hands covered her face.
"Then she told me to go to my room… and after that…"
Her voice broke.
"It happened."
She didn't describe it.
She didn't need to.
The images came anyway.
Cold floor beneath her.
Her head hitting wood.
Consciousness slipping away.
Blood she didn't know where it began.
"No one cared… except one maid."
She said it like a confession.
Then looked at her hands again.
"Now… I'm ugly. Covered in bruises. There's nothing alive in me… not in my body… not in my soul."
Karina shook her head firmly.
"Don't say that."
She moved closer.
"You're very beautiful. Your body will heal. The marks will fade. And you'll come back stronger than before."
She hesitated.
"And don't think you're the only one who's suffered."
She didn't elaborate.
But her tone carried enough.
She hugged her.
Not just a friend's embrace…
but one like Revelina holding her little sister—absorbing her fear while hiding her own.
Victoria began wiping her tears gently, as if afraid her face would be ruined just like her skin.
Karina's voice changed.
No longer angry.
Now resolute.
"This won't happen again."
Victoria looked up, disbelief in her eyes.
"How?"
Karina met her gaze directly.
"You like veterinary studies, right?"
Victoria nodded.
"We'll send you to an academy. Away from them."
She gasped.
"But how?! My father won't acce—"
"Tomorrow is your birthday."
Karina interrupted, this time calmly.
"You'll stay here. And we'll send you off as a birthday gift."
The idea looked impossible on Victoria's face.
She tried to object, but Karina lightly covered her mouth.
"Quiet now. Wipe your tears. Read. Study. Gather everything you need."
She looked at her steadily.
"I'll handle the rest."
And in that moment—
for the first time in a long while—
something different flickered in Victoria's eyes.
Something that looked like… the possibility of survival.
Karina looked at her with quiet determination, then placed her hand over her chest, right above her heart, as if anchoring a promise she refused to let waver.
"Come with me. The Verche library is empty right now. The officer in charge is on leave… it's closed, and only family members have the key."
She paused, then a small, sideways smile formed—tinged with a bit of childish pride.
"My father gave me the master key last year… even though I wasn't allowed inside because I was too young."
Victoria nodded.
She carefully wiped the rest of her tears with her fingertips, then stood.
Her posture was still tired, but her eyes tried to steady themselves.
As if, at least for this moment, she refused to be the victim.
They moved together through the palace corridors.
The fourth floor was quieter.
The sounds from below reached them faintly, like they belonged to another world.
Their footsteps were lighter than usual—not from fear… but from the sense that they were doing something that shouldn't be seen.
Karina took out the key.
Gold, relatively small, but heavier than it looked.
The wall lamps reflected off it, a brief glint passing over her fingers.
They stopped before a wide wooden door, dark in color, carved with the Verche crest.
Karina glanced right and left.
No one.
She inserted the key.
The sound of metal against the lock was louder than expected.
She turned it slowly.
The door opened.
Before them stretched a vast, silent space, extending so far it seemed to swallow the light.
Tall shelves lined up with precision, reaching nearly to the height of the floor.
Books of varying sizes, dark leather bindings, titles etched in gold and silver.
The scent of old paper mixed with wood—a smell unlike anything outside.
Victoria gasped.
"Wow… it's huge."
They stepped inside, and Karina closed the door behind them.
The sound made the space feel even deeper.
Karina walked ahead, slower this time.
Her eyes moved between the wooden signs fixed above each section.
The library was clearly divided.
"Magic" — thick books, some locked with small clasps.
"Life Sciences" — neatly arranged volumes.
"Deep History" — entire rows bearing the names of ages long gone.
"Medicine" — shelves stretching endlessly.
And sections for literature, maps, and others less used.
They kept walking until they stopped before a sign carved with:
"Medicine."
Hundreds of books.
Titles on human anatomy, herbs, poison treatment, ancient surgeries…
Victoria's eyes searched the shelves quickly, eagerly.
Then she looked up.
There.
Above.
A small section dedicated to veterinary studies, stacked on the highest shelf, far beyond easy reach.
A place no hand could easily touch.
She looked at Karina.
Karina looked at her.
A brief silence.
Then a slow smile spread across both their faces.
Not a playful one this time.
But the kind that meant a plan.