Chapter 270: Shatter Glass

By the time Shana had told the sisters everything she could remember about Anna-Maria, the morning was nearly over.

Their questions had taken her from one story to another, sometimes returning to something she had mentioned much earlier so that she could explain it properly. She had repeated rumours she remembered hearing as a student, described the admiration with which older witches spoke of their Matriarch, and admitted more than once that she did not know whether a particular account was entirely true. Eventually, even her store of gossip began to run thin.

Her admiration, however, showed no sign of diminishing.

Whenever she ran out of facts, she found herself speaking about what Anna-Maria had meant to witches like her. The sisters did not seem to mind. Esther listened eagerly, while Airam and Hermione remained attentive even when they recognised that Shana had little more to tell them. None of them had noticed how long they had been sitting on the grass until Monika appeared at the edge of the training yard.

“The midday meal is ready,” she said. “You should all come inside.”

Shana began to rise with the sisters, expecting to accompany them only as far as the house. Then Monika turned toward her.

“You too, Shana.”

“Me?”

“Yes. There is a place prepared for you.”

Shana glanced at the girls, uncertain whether she had misunderstood. Monika was already waiting for them to follow, and there seemed to be no graceful way to ask where that place had been prepared. She went with them, brushing a few blades of grass from her gown as they crossed the yard.

Ulrich had left the sisters in Monika’s care, as he often did when other matters required his attention. This time, he had instructed her to see to Shana as well.

Monika had therefore acquired another person to look after, though this one was a grown woman and a little older than herself. She did not resent the task. Shana was frightened, still recovering from her imprisonment, and unfamiliar with life in the estate except for the part of it beneath the ground. Someone had to ensure that she ate properly, rested, and did not mistake every instruction for a warning that she would be sent back to her cell.

Still, Monika might have preferred to spend more of the day attending to Ulrich himself. She was his personal maid, yet lately there always seemed to be someone else who needed her attention while he went about his business elsewhere.

That was a thought she kept to herself. He had given her an order, and she intended to carry it out.

When they reached the dining hall, Shana stopped briefly at the sight of the prepared table. The sisters went to their places without hesitation. Shana followed more slowly, looking toward Monika before approaching an empty chair.

“Is it really all right for me to eat here?” she asked, hesitant to join.

She chose a seat well away from the head of the table and left some distance between herself and the girls. Even after their conversation in the yard, she was reluctant to presume that Airam and Hermione would welcome her sitting close to them. As for Ulrich’s place, she would have been happier if she could have kept farther away from it.

“It is fine,” Monika said with a smile. “You need to recover your strength after spending so long underground.”

Shana nodded, though that had not quite been her concern.

She was grateful for the food. She had already noticed how much easier it was to move through the estate now that she was eating and sleeping properly. But being allowed to take a meal was different from sitting at the Count’s own table. She had no title, no standing in his household beyond the work he had assigned her, and no reason to assume that he would appreciate finding her there.

She had helped try to abduct his wards. He had spared her life and brought her out to teach them, but Shana did not know how far his permission extended.

What would he say if he came in and saw her?

Monika seemed to understand the hesitation. She stopped beside Shana’s chair and spoke again, more quietly.

“It will be fine. You do not need to worry about it.”

There was nothing doubtful in her voice. Shana lowered her eyes and nodded once more.

Of everyone she had encountered since leaving the cell, Monika was the person with whom she felt most at ease. The maid had helped her wash, found clothes for her, and explained what would be expected of her without making her feel foolish for asking. When Shana became frightened, Monika answered patiently. She had been kind even during the awkward moments when Shana could do little more than apologise for causing trouble.

She also spoke of Ulrich with confidence Shana found difficult to share.

Perhaps reassured was not quite the right word. Sometimes, listening to Monika, Shana almost expected to discover that the Count was a saint whose cold manner everyone had mistaken for cruelty. The woman clearly cared and held strong feelings for him. Shana had noticed it in the way her expression softened whenever his name came up, and in how readily she defended decisions that might have appeared harsh to anyone else.

Monika must have known that, as a servant, her feelings were unlikely to lead anywhere. That did not seem to make them less sincere.

Shana looked around the dining hall while the first dishes were brought in. The servants moved efficiently between the table and the doors, attending to the sisters without visible resentment. Ulrich could be ruthless, and she knew better than most how frightening it was to find herself at his mercy. Yet his own people seemed to receive a different part of him.

His own people.

She wondered whether, if she did well and remained loyal, he might eventually consider her one of them.

The thought was unfamiliar enough that she let it rest without trying to answer it.

Across the table, Esther glanced toward the entrance. Hermione did the same a moment later, then returned her attention to the plate before her. Airam had taken up her glass of water, but she too looked toward the doors whenever footsteps sounded nearby.

The servants continued bringing dishes. Ulrich did not appear.

“Ulrich is late,” Hermione said at last.

She kept her voice casual, as though she were merely pointing out something that might have escaped Monika’s notice. Shana looked toward the empty head of the table. She had been so occupied with wondering whether she belonged there that she had barely considered when the Count would arrive.

“Oh, my lord has already eaten,” Monika replied pleasantly. “He took an earlier meal with Lady Ceres.”

Crackk!

A sharp crack interrupted the movement of the servants.

Airam’s glass struck the tabletop. Before anyone could tell whether she had set it down too hard or lost her hold on it, the glass shattered beneath her tightening fingers.

Water spread across the wood. A few shards fell beside her plate, while others remained caught beneath her hand.

“A—Airam?”

Hermione had scarcely begun to react to Monika’s answer before her attention was drawn to her sister’s hand.

“Eldest Sister!” Esther cried.

Blood appeared along Airam’s palm and ran toward her wrist. She looked down at it with an expression that made it impossible to tell whether she had felt the cuts at all.

“Lady Airam!”

Monika was beside her almost immediately. She caught Airam’s wrist and lifted her hand clear of the broken glass, careful not to drag it across the fragments still lying on the table.

“Bring ointment and bandages,” she told the nearest maid.

The woman hurried away, followed by another who had already turned toward the door. Monika kept Airam’s hand raised while a third servant moved forward to gather the pieces from the table.

“Please keep your fingers open,” Monika said.

Airam obeyed without speaking. Her gaze remained fixed ahead, not on the cuts or the spilled water, but on some point beyond the opposite side of the table. Whatever good mood the conversation about Anna-Maria had left her in was gone.

When the maids returned, Monika knelt beside the chair and began tending to her palm. She checked carefully for glass before wiping away the blood, then spread the ointment over the small cuts. Airam allowed her to turn the hand as needed and made no complaint when the cloth touched a sore place.

Shana sat very still.

She did not know who Ceres was, nor why the mention of her had caused such a reaction. But she knew that asking now would be unwise. Anna-Maria’s eldest daughter, certainly the scariest, had frightened her while standing quietly in the yard; seeing her sit in silence with a bleeding hand made Shana even less inclined to draw her attention.

Hermione leaned slightly toward her sister.

“Um… Airam?”

“I am fine,” Airam said.

Monika was still wrapping the bandage around her palm. Airam glanced down only once, as though to confirm that the injury required nothing further, then looked toward the servants who had stopped nearby.

“I am hungry.”

The dark look she gave them was enough to restore everyone’s sense of purpose. The maids returned to the dishes waiting to be served, and one stepped forward to fill Airam’s plate while another replaced the ruined glass.

Monika secured the bandage before releasing her wrist. Airam let her hand rest beside the plate and waited for the food, her expression no less dark than before.