After dispatching those bandits, she returned to her room for a bath; the stench of the men's blood had clung to her dress. After bathing, she dried her hair and donned a small cap found in the bathroom, which, thanks to a magical gem, dried her hair quickly. With her hair done, she went to bed. The next day, she would have to return to the Marquis's mansion and had plans to enjoy bringing down everyone there, for they were all complicit in Nidia's crimes against the real Charlotte.
In Sigrid's room, he had returned but remained puzzled by what he had witnessed; the girl possessed incredible and dangerous power, and her demeanor was far from childlike as she effortlessly toyed with the men's minds before killing them.
"Amira, do you think she could be a demon masquerading as a child?" he asked.
"She's no demon; she's human but dangerous—as I see it, she acts out of self-interest," replied the woman, lounging on the room's large sofa.
"Does that mean if we cease to be of use to her, she might dispose of us?" he questioned.
"Yes, that might happen, but if you intend to seize the throne, she could be your ally."
"True, she might be useful, perhaps even capable of removing the crown prince from my path."
It wasn't that he despised his older cousin, but he didn't find him fit to shoulder the burden of the crown. His father had never aspired to the throne, yet if the crown prince ascended, the kingdom would crumble, and Hugo—nothing more than his mother's minion—would, guided by the queen, surely lead the realm into ruin.
****
The following day, they had all their lessons indoors; Charlotte couldn't reveal that the danger was gone. As they finished their sword-fighting lesson, a commotion arose. Peering out, they saw the Marquis confronting his mother for defying his authority and taking Charlotte away.
"She was in that room for slandering her older brother; she must understand and stop being spoiled," the Marquis protested.
"Spoiled? It seems you're referring to your bastards. Charlotte is a well-behaved and intelligent young lady. If she's such a nuisance, why do you want to take her away? Leave her in my care," retorted the grandmother.
"Absolutely not. Call her out—I'm taking her with me now, and I expect you to stop disrespecting my wife," he demanded.
"I've never disrespected her; I respect her memory even in her absence."
"I'm not talking about her; I'm referring to Nidia... she is now my wife, the Marchioness."
"That harlot will remain just that—a harlot who's ensnared a fool."
Incensed, the Marquis's face turned crimson with rage at his mother's words; he raised his hand but was restrained by the guards.
"Look at you, attempting to strike your own mother for speaking the truth; what a disgrace of a son I have," the baroness scorned.
His fists clenched with anger, the Marquis said nothing more. Charlotte and Sigrid watched from behind a column.
"With a father like that, I don't believe you should return," stated Sigrid.
"But I must, or things will get worse," Charlotte lamented.
Descending the stairs, she feigned surprise at the Marquis's presence and curtsied respectfully.
"Welcome, Marquis," she said, eyes lowered.
"Marquis?" he inquired, for despite the scorn, the real Charlotte had never stopped calling him father.
"Collect your things; you're coming back home with me right now," he commanded.
"Yes, Marquis. Grandmother, please, don't argue with the Marquis—I'll be fine," and she embraced her grandmother.
Valentina returned the embrace, and watching Charlotte ascend, she glared at the Marquis, vexed.
"Did you hear that? She doesn't even deem you worthy of 'father' anymore. If my granddaughter isn't treated well, I'll appeal to the king," she threatened.
"Don't be ridiculous, mother."
As Charlotte descended with her belongings, the Marquis seized her hand, dragging her toward the carriage.
"You better behave, returning only to cause trouble," he griped, gripping her arm tightly.
"You're hurting me; I did nothing wrong. Grandmother saw how the Marchioness hit me... that's why she took me in, because everyone treats me poorly with the Marchioness around," she began to sob.
He halted, contemplating her words.
"She struck you? Look, stop lying, your tears are worthless," he snarled.
"You never believe me; I'm not a liar... how long until you believe me? Until my stepmother murders me or my brother violates me?" she retorted.
"Enough! Stop spreading slander," and he shoved her into the carriage, where she landed on the floor, crying. Valentina, following close behind, was furious to see how her grandchild was being handled.
"Miserable! This is not how you treat your daughter. Did you not hear what she said? Your son has vile intentions toward her? First, your wife strikes her, and now I learn of your bastard's disgusting motives," Valentina spat.
"They're her fabrications; she's a spoiled child vying for attention. Now, step aside."
The Marquis boarded the carriage, instructing the coachman to depart, while Valentina continued to berate her son, unable to comprehend his callous behavior.
Observing from a distance, Sigrid surmised that the Marquis, famed as a model father and husband, was nothing but a charlatan. Having attended events with his father, he knew the Marquis always boasted about his children, yet it appeared to be a façade. He approached the baroness and took her hand.
"Don't worry; she will be alright. We can speak to my uncle for assistance in bringing Lady Charlotte back."
"Indeed, I must visit the palace. Having seen my son's ill-treatment, I will not allow it to continue," and with a sense of urgency, she hastened to her study to pen a letter to the king, pleading for an audience. Her granddaughter could not remain in the Marquis's home, especially with such violent behavior exhibited towards her.
*****
At the Marquis's mansion, he led Charlotte by the arm, who struggled to break free. All eyes in the house watched the scene unfold, silent. Nidia smiled triumphantly as the child was dragged to the attic room, where the Marquis locked her in.
"You'll stay here for a week to learn not to lie."
"I'm not lying; you and that woman are despicable. But a day will come when you'll beg for mercy at my feet, and I'll tear out your tongues before ending your lives."
Stunned by the girl's threatening words—so contrary to her tearful demeanor on the carriage ride—the Marquis turned and hesitated before descending the stairs, where the Marchioness lauded him for standing up to Valentina. Unmoved, the Marquis retreated to his study, the chill of Charlotte's eerie laughter still haunting him.
*****
That night, after a period of calm, Mariam awoke screaming from sinister nightmares again, and turning to a corner of her room, she saw Doroti standing there, her face rotten and decayed. Her shrieks echoed throughout the mansion, forcing the Marchioness to stay by her daughter's side, who refused to sleep. Whenever the Marchioness drifted off, Mariam saw the ghastly figure of the maid once more.
The next day, a doctor examined Mariam but found no physical ailment, diagnosing it as a mental issue.
"By any chance, Lady Mariam, did you know about Doroti's intentions?"
"I-I... no," she responded, head bowed.
"How could my daughter be privy to servants' affairs? Your question is nonsensical," the Marchioness interjected.
"Please, Marchioness, sometimes guilt triggers these episodes, such as knowing the maid's intentions without acting on them," the doctor explained.
"My daughter shouldn't concern herself with the problems of servants. Perhaps someone envies her beauty and has cursed her; I shall call for a mage," the Marchioness determined.
"As you wish," agreed the doctor, taking his leave. The Marchioness informed the Marquis of Mariam's condition and her intention to consult a mage. He concurred, despite pondering if the Marchioness's suspicions of enchantment were plausible, particularly recalling Charlotte's words. However, he dismissed the notion, remembering that the girl had been tested long ago and found to be a normal child, devoid of magic. Only his son manifested magical talents, honing them at a prestigious academy in preparation to inherit the throne.
*****
In the attic, Charlotte peered through a tiny window, observing a messenger hastily departing the mansion. The Marchioness must be frantic about her daughter's affliction, considering she needed Mariam as a bargaining chip; her debut was imminent, demanding her to be in prime condition for attracting suitors.
"It's a shame her debut will be amidst hellfire," she mused, a malevolent smile crossing her face.
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