Aveline's fingers curled slowly in her lap.
Because as she watched Theron wipe the blade clean with chilling calm, a thought crept into her mind like cold water down her spine.
If misfortune followed him… All she had left was her life. And she was not willing to lose it.
She stayed quiet while Theron handled the rest.
His guards moved through the hall with frightening precision, sometimes without him even speaking. A glance, a shift of his hand, the smallest tilt of his head… and they understood. Bodies were dragged away. Orders were carried out. The chaos of the evening slowly reshaped itself into something controlled and deliberate.
Beatrice's body was carried out first. Isolde, bound and screaming, was dragged with it.
Aveline slipped away from the table and approached the dead woman. Kneeling, she calmly removed the pearl necklace from Beatrice's throat and slid the ring from her swollen fingers.
Her mother's pearls and ring. They had never belonged to Isolde or Bernice. They were hers.
Aveline instinctively glanced toward Theron.
For a moment, she wondered if he would demand them back. After all, he owned the house now. Everything in it technically belonged to him.
But he didn't even look at the jewelry.
So… she slipped the pearls and ring quietly into her pocket, careful and discreet.
No one noticed.
At least that was what she thought.
Except… Theron had noticed.
Across the hall, he watched her move from cabinet to cabinet, drawer to drawer, collecting small things with quiet determination. A ribbon here. A brooch there. A little trinket that had survived ten brutal years.
One of the guards moved as if to stop her.
Theron's gaze cut toward him.
The guard froze instantly.
Theron said nothing.
But the message was clear.
His little hare could do whatever she pleased in her childhood home. If she wanted to rummage through every corner like a squirrel preparing for winter, then so be it.
As long as she stayed within his sight, she could go on whatever small quest her heart desired.
Eventually, his attention shifted back to the courtyard.
"Throw her to the hunting dogs," Theron commanded calmly. "And let her mother watch."
Aveline stepped out onto the balcony.
Below, the kennel gates opened.
The hunting dogs, the huge, muscular beasts Beatrice had once trained to attack humans, bounded into the pit. Those same dogs had chased Aveline through the gardens more times than she could count, snapping at her heels while Beatrice laughed.
Now they tore into Beatrice's corpse.
Isolde, tied to a nearby post, screamed as the dogs ripped flesh and cloth apart. Her shrieks echoed across the courtyard, raw with horror.
When the dogs had torn the body enough…
They threw Isolde into the pit.
Mortimer, barely conscious, was forced to watch.
Henry's punishment was different.
His wounds were cauterized with red-hot iron. The smell of burning flesh drifted into the night air. They needed to stop the bleeding if they intended to keep him alive.
Henry's screams did not stop. Not even after he lost his fingers.
Aveline watched everything from the balcony.
She didn't blink. She didn't look away.
Seeing them suffer did not erase the ten years they had stolen from her. But it was enough for something inside her to feel… balanced again.
Vindicated.
Still… Her gaze drifted back to Theron.
Why would he do all this for her?
He wouldn't. It must be some other personal vendetta.
So, when would his dagger turn toward her for everything she had done to hurt him… in this very house?
She did not want to wait to find out.
Theron seemed distracted now, gathering the remaining servants and maids into the hall. He questioned them in low voices, his tone quiet but relentless. One by one, they answered him, trembling.
Aveline was curious, but curiosity was weaker than survival.
She quietly slipped away from the balcony.
This house… Every stone of it held her childhood memories, and the ghosts of her parents' laughter.
She did not want to leave it, but if the choice was between this house, and her life… She would choose her life without hesitation.
In truth, she would choose her life over anything.
The dress was far too heavy for jumping out of a balcony. Aveline realized that the moment her feet left the railing. For one glorious second she floated in the air like a heroine escaping a burning palace.
Then gravity remembered she existed.
She landed with a muffled thump in the flowerbeds below.
"Oof—!"
She rolled once, twice, and finally lay flat on her back staring at the sky.
After a moment, she slowly lifted her head. Nothing was broken.
Good.
She pushed herself up and dusted off her skirt. "The dress is useless for walking," she muttered, tugging at the thick fabric, "but at least it works like armor." The heavy layers had absorbed most of the impact.
Aveline straightened and hurried toward the gardens. Behind the gardens, hidden past the old willow trees, lay her parents' graves.
She wanted to see them once. After that… she would leave this place forever.
She had only taken a few steps when something suddenly yanked her sideways. Before she could scream, a rough hand clamped over her mouth and dragged her into a bush.
Aveline froze.
Her heart hammered wildly, but she forced herself not to panic.
Instead, she squinted at the man holding her. "Theodore?" she whispered.
The moment she recognized the face beneath the dirt and tangled hair, her eyes lit up.
"It is you, Theodore!"
Theodore quickly shushed her.
"Quiet!" he hissed, glancing toward the mansion. "Half the house is in chaos. I heard rumors you were here."
He leaned back and looked her up and down.
His eyes widened.
"Where did you disappear to? And how did you get this—" he tugged lightly at the sleeve of her luxurious gown "—ridiculous dress?"
He squinted suspiciously. "Who bought you this?"
Aveline's heart skipped. She absolutely did not want to answer that question. Because the real answer sounded terrible.
A mysterious man bought me along with the mansion and then gave me expensive clothes.
Yes. That sounded like a very bad explanation.
So she turned around abruptly and lifted her hair.
"Help me get out of this dress," she said.
Theodore blinked. "What?"
"I can barely walk in it," she complained, tugging at the back ties. "Just untie it."
---
Meanwhile, back in the dining hall, Theron frowned. Aveline had been standing right there a moment ago.
Right there.
Now she was gone. Completely gone.
His expression darkened. "Where is she?" he roared.
The guards immediately scattered in every direction like frightened pigeons. Theron's patience snapped.
"Stop running like headless chickens!" he barked. "Where did you see her last?"
One guard hurried forward and knelt.
"Your High—"
Before he could finish, Theron smacked the man's shoulder with the back of his dagger. "I told you not to address me that here!"
The guard winced but nodded quickly. "She was last seen near the balcony."
That was enough.
Theron strode to the balcony and jumped down without hesitation. The gravel crunched under his boots as he walked through the garden path. He had a feeling he knew exactly where she might go.
But then…He heard voices… ambiguous voices, from a bush nearby.
He stopped.
"…Are you sure this is what you want?" a man asked quietly.
Theron froze.
A woman answered.
"Yes."
His heart lurched.
That voice…
"Be quick," the woman added softly. "I don't have much time."
Theron's fists clenched.
That was definitely Aveline.
Then…
"Ow!" Aveline's voice whimpered. "Be gentle… it hurts…"
The man sounded puzzled.
"You smell different," he said. "And your skin is so smooth now. What did you do?"
Theron went very still.
Dangerously still.
What exactly… was happening in that bush?
His blood roared in his ears as he marched forward. His hands trembled as he pushed the branches aside.
And then… He saw them.
Aveline stood there with the blouse of her gown loosened, her golden hair falling messily over her shoulders.
And behind her… was…a man. A man standing very close to her.
A man who was currently untying her dress. And she was letting him.
Theron's vision went red. "What are you doing to her?"
His sword was already in his hand. He didn't even remember drawing it. He only knew one thing… He wanted to cut that man's hands off for touching her.
But before the blade could fall… Aveline jumped in front of it.
She planted herself directly between the sword and the man behind her.
Her arms spread wide like a human shield.
"Don't hurt my fiancé!" she shouted.
Theron froze.
His brain stopped working.
"…Your what?"
Right at that exact moment, Aveline's loosened dress slipped off one shoulder. The man peeked from behind her.
Aveline looked entirely unbothered.
"My fiancé," she repeated firmly.
Theron staggered.
His sword slipped from his hand and hit the ground with a dull clang.
She called him brother…
And now…
She had a fiancé.