In her private sitting quarters, located in a separate wing of the grand estate, Lorena sat perfectly still in a high-backed chair. She held a delicate porcelain cup of tea, its warmth a pleasant contrast to the cold calculation in her heart. From her window, she had a clear view of a small, discreet side entrance to the main building. Just as planned, she saw a dark, hulking shadow slip through the door she had personally ensured was left unlocked. A slow, satisfied smile touched her lips as she took a delicate sip of her tea.
She waited. She counted out five full minutes, allowing the man enough time to navigate the servants' corridors and reach his destination. Then, she placed her cup down with a soft click and turned to the young maid who was doing her last round of chorus quietly dusting a bookshelf.
"Clara," Lorena said, her voice laced with a perfect imitation of sudden concern. "Did you see that just now? Out the window?"
The maid paused, looking startled. "See what, Miss Lorena?"
"A shadow," Lorena said, rising from her chair and walking to the window, feigning a worried search. "I'm certain I saw a man's shadow moving along the wall, heading towards the Grand Duchess's wing. It seemed… out of place." She turned back to the maid, her expression now one of grave responsibility. "We must go and check. For Her Grace's safety, of course."
The maid, her eyes wide with alarm, nodded immediately. "Yes, miss. Right away."
Inside the Grand Duchess's chambers, Marissa had just dismissed Lily for the night. The room was quiet, lit only by a few soft lamps. She walked over to the large, ornate bed, the silk of her nightgown whispering against her skin. She was tired, but her mind was alert, a lingering sense of unease from the day's strange events keeping sleep at bay. As she reached to pull back the heavy damask covers, she froze.
CLICK.
It was a soft sound, but in the silence of the room, it was as loud as a gunshot. It came from her door. Someone was unlocking it from the outside.
"Who's there?" she called out, her voice steady and firm.
There was no answer. The door creaked open slowly, and a hulking figure dressed in black slipped inside, closing it quietly behind him. His face was covered by a dark cloth mask, leaving only his eyes visible.
Marissa's heart hammered in her chest, but her face remained a mask of calm. This was a trap. Screaming for the guards would be like a mouse calling for the cat. It was exactly what her enemies wanted—to find her with a strange man in her chambers.
"Sneaking into the Grand Duke's estate at night is a punishable offense," she said, her voice cold and authoritative. "To say nothing of entering the Grand Duchess's bedchambers unannounced. This is a crime punishable by death. Who sent you?"
The masked man took a step forward, his voice muffled by the cloth. "Just cooperate, Your Grace, and I promise you, I will be gentle." His words were a clear, disgusting threat.
Marissa's eyes darted around the room, searching for a weapon, for an escape. Calling for help would push the narrative her enemies had laid out for her. She had to get out, or she had to incapacitate him. Her gaze landed on the small, ornate incense burner on a side table. It was still warm, a thin trail of smoke rising from it.
As the man took another step, she acted. She snatched the small bowl and, with a swift flick of her wrist, threw the fine, grey ash directly at his face.
The man cried out, a muffled, guttural sound, stumbling backward and clawing at his eyes as the stinging powder blinded him. "You witch!" he sputtered, coughing.
Marissa used the precious seconds of distraction to find an escape. She didn't run for the main door—he was blocking it. She turned and ran for the only other exit: the wide glass doors leading to the balcony. She reached them and yanked on the heavy brass handles.
They didn't move.
Panic, cold and sharp, finally pierced her composure. She pulled again with all her strength, her feet sliding on the smooth floor. The latch was jammed. It wouldn't budge an inch. She was trapped. Behind her, she could hear the man's coughing subsiding, replaced by a low, angry growl.
In the long, torchlit hallway leading to Marissa's chambers, Ashlyn saw Lorena approaching with a maid and two burly household guards in tow. She arranged her face into a mask of worry and hurried towards them, her wedding dress making her an unmissable sight.
"Miss Lorena!" she cried, her voice breathless.
Lorena stopped, feigning surprise. She looked Ashlyn up and down, taking in the wedding dress. "My lady? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in your own chambers… with your new husband?"
"I couldn't sleep," Ashlyn said, wringing her hands. "I was just getting some air, and I saw a man… a man heading towards the Grand Duchess's bedchamber! He looked suspicious. I'm so worried for my sister!"
Lorena's lips thinned into a knowing, cruel line. "Well, we all know the Grand Duke dislikes this marriage, so he certainly won't be the one to consummate it tonight. He is probably still with that dancer." She glanced meaningfully down the dark hallway towards Marissa's room. "Late at night, another man appears in the Grand Duchess's chambers… I suppose she couldn't wait for His Grace to warm her bed after all."
She looked back at Ashlyn, her eyes glittering. "Come, my lady. Let's go and investigate together. It is our duty to protect the honor of this house."
They arrived at Marissa's door to find it slightly ajar. Perfect. Lorena turned to the guards, her voice barking with authority.
"There may be a thief or an assassin inside! Guard the doors and the windows. Do not let anyone in or out until I give the word! Let's see what blind fool has the courage to steal from the Grand Duke."
The guards bowed. "Yes, miss!" They moved with grim efficiency, one stationing himself at the main door, the other moving to block any potential escape from the balcony below. The trap was now fully sealed.
With Ashlyn at her side, Lorena pushed the door open and they swept into the bedroom. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp near the four-poster bed. The sheer, gauzy curtains around the bed were drawn, obscuring the view within.
But they didn't need a clear view. The lamp behind the bed cast two distinct shadows onto the fabric of the curtain. The scene was shocking and undeniable.
One smaller flailing figure was forcefully straddling a large masculine shadow, pinning it down against the mattress.
The shadows shifted and struggled, creating a perfect, damning silhouette of a hot, passionate indulgence.
Lorena let out a sharp, pretentious gasp of horror.
Ashlyn, standing beside her, simply smiled. It was a wide, triumphant, predatory smile. Her plan had worked perfectly. Marissa was finished.