The Fiery Crown Cycle: A Dragon's Rebirth

Chapter 50

Linda emerged from the carriage, Isolde held securely in her arms. The head maid, who had been hovering nearby, gave a knowing bow and retreated into the manor. With an effortless leap, Linda landed softly on the snow-dusted cobblestones.

Only when Linda was at her side did Thea turn and sweep into the estate.

The entrance opened into a grand hall, a cavern of opulence where every surface seemed to be gilded. Ornate fixtures and amber magi-crystal lamps cast a brilliant, golden glow, making the space feel both vast and warm. The dining hall lay straight ahead, but Thea ignored it, crossing the polished marble floor and ascending the grand staircase.

Her chambers were at the far end of the second-floor corridor, behind a set of imposing double doors. A maidservant, standing sentinel, saw her lady approach and pulled the heavy wooden doors open.

The room within was immense. Even with a set of exquisite couches and chairs arranged in one corner, the space felt vast and empty. Thea moved through it without pause, heading directly for a side door. She passed through it and into her private bathing chamber.

Steam, thick and white, rose from a large, sunken pool, filling the air with a warm haze. It was a sanctuary of warmth and water.

Wrapped in a thick towel, Thea descended the marble steps into the pool. The water was the perfect temperature, and she closed her eyes with a soft sigh of contentment. She leaned back against the smooth stone, fanning her long, black hair out behind her in the water. Every muscle fiber in her body seemed to uncoil, the day's lingering aches dissolving into the heat. She had no desire to ever move again.

Splash.

A soft ripple disturbed her peace. Thea opened her eyes.

It was Linda, still holding the slumbering girl. Her lady's command—to wash the child—had left her no choice but to enter the water herself.

Linda carefully propped Isolde up on the steps, her head resting just above the surface, and began her work. Her gaze settled on the matted, golden hair. I will start there.

Seeing Linda begin the task, Thea closed her eyes again, surrendering to the rare moment of tranquility.

“My lady.” A gentle voice, a familiar touch. “My lady, please wake up.”

Her body was being gently shaken. Thea's eyelids fluttered open. She saw a familiar face, etched with concern.

“Linda,” she murmured. “What is it?”

“You fell asleep, my lady. Are you tired? Shall I carry you to bed?”

Thea's gaze swept the bathing chamber. The other girl was gone. “Where is Isolde?”

“Isolde? You mean the little girl, my lady? I have already settled her in your bed to rest.”

“Is that so?” A small, pleased smile touched Thea's lips. “You've done well, Linda. Carry me out.”

Thea held out her arms like a child. A fond, protective smile softened Linda's features. She bent, sliding her arms under her lady, and lifted her from the water.

“Will you be resting now?” Linda asked as she stepped out of the pool.

“No.” Thea curled into Linda's embrace, the scent of her attendant's livery a familiar comfort. “Dress me. I am going to the dining hall.”

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As the acting head of the house, Thea knew she could make her relatives wait, but she could not be absent. To skip the meal entirely would be a sign of weakness, a foothold for her enemies. It would be difficult to explain to her father… though a chilling certainty told her he was likely never coming back.

She remained pliant and still as Linda worked, dressing her with practiced efficiency. Ten minutes later, Thea, now clad in an elegant black dress and flat leather shoes, was fully awake.

“Let us go, Linda.”

Linda bowed her head slightly and followed a step behind as her lady walked.

They paused before the doors to the dining hall. It was silent within, but Thea knew they were all still there, waiting. She gave Linda a sidelong glance. A single look was all it took. Linda understood. She stepped forward and pushed the doors open.

The long, familiar dining table was filled. Two rows of faces, old and young, turned in unison.

Clatter, clatter.

The sound of Thea's small shoes on the marble floor was stark in the silence. She walked with a steady, unhurried pace toward the head of the table, the seat of the patriarch. The seat that was now hers. She sat down.

“My apologies for the delay, everyone.”

“You should be sorry,” a red-haired youth snapped from down the table. “You are an hour late.”

Thea ignored him completely.

Clap.

She brought her small, pale hands together once. “Well, then. Shall we begin?”

Having made her declaration, Thea picked up her knife and fork and began to meticulously cut into the roast before her.

“Are you ignoring me?” the boy demanded, his voice rising.

Thea speared a piece of meat, brought it to her lips, and chewed. The taste was familiar. Bland.

“Fine! Wait until Father returns. I will report this insolence to him!”

Thea's appetite vanished. She set down her silverware. “I am finished.”

She stood. “Please, enjoy your meal.”

As she turned to leave, Thea cast a fleeting glance at the red-haired boy, who now wore a triumphant smirk. What a fool. Every day, the same pointless buzzing.

I should just crush him.

A flicker of pure killing intent flashed in Thea's black eyes.

Sensing the shift in her lady's mood, Linda turned, gave the assembled family a perfunctory bow, and hurried to follow. Before she turned, Linda's gaze lingered for a moment on the red-haired youth. His name was Scott. With the patriarch's support, Lady Thea's position as heir was all but unshakable. The other branches of the family had fallen in line. Only Scott, and the fool who prodded him, continued to challenge her.

The intent in her lady's eyes had been unmistakable. Lady Thea now wanted Scott dead.

Back in her chambers, the door closed, sealing them off from the rest of the world.

“My lady,” Linda asked quietly, “shall I deal with him?”

Thea ignored the question. She walked to the large, pink-canopied bed and threw herself onto it, landing beside the small figure sleeping soundly there. Even with her rough skin, scrubbed clean, Isolde was quite pretty. Thea began to curl a lock of the girl's soft, golden hair around her finger, mesmerized by the silken texture.

“No,” she said, her voice muffled by the bedding. “It is not yet time. Ignore Scott.”

She rolled over, a cunning light in her eyes. “He is not the one who truly wishes to challenge me.”

“Then who, my lady?”

“My dear, dishonest Fourth Stepmother.”

The Fourth Lady? Linda's eyes widened. She couldn't comprehend it. The Fourth Lady had always been so kind, so solicitous of Thea's well-being. Why would she be the enemy?

Thea giggled, a light, musical sound that held no mirth. “Linda, you truly don't understand, do you?” She remained on her stomach, her focus entirely on the strand of golden hair.

“My lady, I confess I do not.”

“Have you not noticed, Linda? Think carefully. Who has been missing from the dinner table for the last half-month?”

Missing? Linda searched her memory. Someone had been absent. It was… The Fourth Young Master. He had not been seen at dinner since his father, the patriarch, had left.

“You've remembered, haven't you?”

“The Fourth Young Master?”

“Yes. He went with my father to the royal capital.” A sly smile spread across Thea's delicate face. “And he petitioned my father to go in my name, as a sign of his loyalty to the heir.”

Linda's blue eyes widened further as the pieces clicked into place. She finally understood the breathtaking audacity of the Fourth Lady's scheme.

“Oh, and Linda,” Thea added, her tone casual once more. “Have someone acquire a full report on Isolde's legal guardian.”

“At once, my lady.”

A slender, white hand covered a delicate yawn. “Hah… I am sleepy now.”

Thea burrowed under the covers, curling up into a small ball.

Linda watched her lady disappear into the blankets. “Goodnight, my lady.”

A soft voice replied from the darkness. “Goodnight, Linda.”