Lydia
The second day in the Thorne estate began with silence ,the kind that wasn't peace, but restraint.
Lydia woke before the bell rang, already dressed before the others stirred in their shared quarters. She moved like mist, careful not to draw attention. Her cloak of illusion held steady, masking her from even the most sensitive noses among the staff. But inside her, a tension coiled.
Every glance from a wolf felt like a blade being tested against her skin.
She tied her apron, smoothed her sleeves, and stepped into the halls with her head low. Morning light filtered through high windows, gilding the corridor floors like rivers of sun. The stone beneath her feet held a chill, even in summer.
They've warded this place with runes, she realized the longer she walked. Old ones, hidden in the walls. Protection. Surveillance.
The Thornes didn't just guard their legacy. They fortified it.
Mrs. Halston met her near the kitchen and gave her a linen-wrapped bundle. "You'll take Master Duncan's breakfast. He eats in the training hall this morning. Don't interrupt him."
Lydia nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
The silver tray was heavy in her arms, though not from its contents. The burden was in the destination.
The training hall was on the estate's western wing,a wide, open room lined with tall arched windows and weapons racks that gleamed in the early light. As Lydia entered, her steps nearly faltered.
He was there already.
Duncan.
He moved like wind through trees, controlled, unhurried, devastating. Bare-chested beneath loose training pants, he wielded a curved blade in one hand as he danced through the air. His muscles flexed, taut with precision, not bulk. Sweat lined his brow, darkening the edges of his hair, but his focus was unbroken.
Lydia lingered near the doorway, setting the tray down on a side table as quietly as she could. But even that didn't go unnoticed.
"You're early," Duncan said, breath steady despite his exertion.
She kept her eyes low. "I didn't want to disrupt your training, sir."
He turned toward her. Not fully, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of gold eyes and a faint smirk.
"You didn't. You watched."
The blood in her body chilled.
"I didn't mean to-" she began.
"You're curious." He wiped his face with a towel. "That's not a crime."
She glanced at him then, a flick of the eyes, just enough to read his expression. There was no anger. No suspicion. Just quiet awareness.
He walked toward the tray. "You've worked hard for someone who's only been here a day."
Lydia stiffened. Was that praise? Or scrutiny?
"I do what's asked of me, sir."
"Good." He poured water from the jug and drank deeply. "The household is better with quiet competence."
She didn't know what to say to that, so she said nothing.
"Do you have family, Lydia?"
The question hit her like a strike to the chest.
Her throat closed. "No, sir."
He nodded slowly, chewing on a piece of fruit. "Makes two of us."
That surprised her. "I thought…" She caught herself before finishing.
"You thought the Thornes were a whole dynasty," he said, giving her a faint, crooked smile. "They are. But it's a lonely seat at the top."
There was a long pause.
Then, he added, "You may go."
Lydia bowed her head, backed away, and turned toward the door. But as she slipped out, she caught one final glimpse over her shoulder.
He was watching her go, not with suspicion, but something gentler. Quieter.
Don't be seen, she reminded herself.
But part of her wondered:
Why does it feel like I already have been?
Duncan
She moved like shadow.
Duncan wasn't sure what it was about the new maid that drew his attention, but it hadn't dulled since the moment she stepped into his study the day before. Lydia. Small, neat, careful,like someone trying not to exist. But her silences said more than most people's words.
He chewed on another piece of melon, eyes lingering on the door long after she left.
He wasn't foolish, he knew the kinds of games some wolves played with the staff. But this wasn't that. It wasn't attraction, not exactly. It was… a question he hadn't yet figured out how to ask.
Something about her didn't sit right.
But not in a threatening way. More like a song he couldn't place the melody of.
He finished his breakfast, wiped the sweat from his brow, and walked to the window. The forests stretched beyond the estate, green and endless. Somewhere out there, real threats still stirred ,rogue wolves, maybe even surviving vampires in hiding.
Duncan had fought them before. Felt their desperation, their madness. And yet ,he'd always believed there were some who didn't deserve exile. Some who had been punished simply for what they were.
He didn't say that out loud, of course. His father would call it naïve. His mother would sigh and caution patience.
And now… this maid. Quiet. Careful. Watching everything.
There was something under her skin that didn't match the surface. He didn't sense fear ..not the kind humans gave off when surrounded by wolves. She didn't smell afraid.
She smelled like… rain.
And he liked the scent far too much.
Lydia
By midday, Lydia was helping polish the silver in the east sitting room. She worked beside another maid, Tessa, a bubbly young human with warm brown eyes and a love for gossip.
"So, what do you think of the Alpha's son?" Tessa whispered, scrubbing a fork.
Lydia didn't look up. "He seems… disciplined."
Tessa snorted. "Disciplined? That's the word you're going with?"
Lydia offered a faint smile.
Tessa leaned closer. "You know he almost killed a rogue wolf in the north woods last winter? They say he caught the beast mid-shift and snapped its spine with one hand."
Lydia stiffened.
"Don't worry," Tessa added quickly. "He only hunts the bad ones. Master Duncan's not like the others. Doesn't treat people like dirt. He's…" She sighed. "Complicated. But fair."
Lydia turned that over in her mind. Complicated. Fair.
Perhaps
Duncan
That night, Duncan sat with his parents in the great dining hall. His father, Alpha Thorne, was a stern man with salt-and-pepper hair and eyes like steel. His mother, Liora, was softer,elegant and observant.
"You've been quiet, son," Liora said between sips of wine.
"Just tired."
"Long patrol?"
"No," he replied. "New maid."
His father raised a brow. "You've never commented on staff before."
"She's… unusual."
"In what way?"
"She listens more than she speaks. And she sees things."
Liora smiled. "That's rare."
"She's hiding something," Duncan added.
His father stiffened. "Should I be concerned?"
Duncan shook his head. "No. I don't think she's dangerous. Just… afraid."
"Then give her time," Liora said gently. "Not all who hide do so with ill intent."
His father made no such comment. But he didn't protest either.
Lydia
That evening, Lydia snuck into the greenhouse behind the servants' quarters. No one else came here after dark.
The flowers bloomed in silence. Vines curled up the glass walls. Moonlight poured through the panes like liquid silver.
She sat beside a bed of lavender and touched the necklace at her throat.
"Isolde," she whispered. "I'm here. I've made it. But I don't know how long I can keep this up."
The necklace pulsed faintly as if the magic heard her.
"I thought I would hate them," she said quietly. "But he… he's not what I expected."
She pressed her forehead to her knees.
You were right. They're not all monsters. But if they find out what I am…
Tears slipped from her eyes before she could stop them.
In the stillness, only the moon bore witness
Duncan
That same night, Duncan stood on the balcony outside his chambers, staring up at the moon. The wind ruffled his hair. Somewhere in the house below, Lydia moved through the shadows, silent, contained, unknown.
But her presence lingered like the scent of rain on stone.
He didn't trust it.
But he didn't want it to disappear, either.