The maid and the cursed Duke

*Chapter 1: The Rules of Blackthorn Castle* The rain was the first thing that told me I had made a mistake. It came down in sheets, cold and angry, soaking through the thin fabric of my cloak the moment I stepped off the carriage. The driver didn’t even look at me. He tossed my single bag into the mud, muttered something about “another desperate girl,” and whipped the horses away before I could say thank you. Blackthorn Castle rose in front of me like a gravestone. Towers of black stone cut into the night sky. No lights in the windows. No smoke from the chimneys. Just iron gates and gargoyles and the sound of the wind howling through empty halls. My stomach twisted. I had walked three days to get here. My mother’s medicine cost more than I made in a month at the mill, and the mill had burned down last week. This was the only job I could find. “Maid wanted. Blackthorn Castle. Good pay. No questions.” No questions. I should have known that meant trouble. The gates creaked open by themselves. A man stood on the other side. Tall. Pale. His coat was too fine for a servant, but his eyes were dead. “You’re late,” he said. His voice was flat. “I’m sorry, sir. The roads—” “Follow me.” He didn’t ask my name. He didn’t care. Inside, the castle was worse than outside. It smelled like dust and old iron. The candles barely lit the hallway, and the shadows moved when they shouldn’t. Portraits on the wall had their eyes scratched out. We stopped in a small room with a wooden table. On it was a contract and a quill. “Sign,” the man said. “What are the duties?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Clean. Cook. Serve. Don’t speak unless spoken to.” He paused. “And three rules.” He slid a paper across to me. The ink was still wet. *The Rules of Employment:* *1. Do not be late.* *2. Do not speak to the Master.* *3. Never enter the west wing after sunset.* My fingers were numb as I signed. Elena Carter. Maid. “Good,” he said. “Your room is on the third floor. Meals are at dawn and dusk. Break a rule and you’re gone. No pay.” “What happens if—” “You’re dismissed.” That was it. My room was tiny. A bed, a wash basin, and a window that looked out over the graveyard. I didn’t sleep. I listened to the castle. It groaned. It breathed. --- *Night One.* I followed the rules. I woke before dawn and scrubbed floors until my knees bled. I cooked soup that no one ate. I carried trays to a dining room that was always empty, but the food was always gone by morning. At sunset, I heard it. A sound. Low. Like something dragging chains across stone. It came from the west wing. I froze, mop in hand. Rule 3 flashed in my head. _Never enter the west wing after sunset._ I went to my room and locked the door. --- *Night Two.* I saw him. I was carrying tea to the study. The butler said the Master wanted it at exactly 9. The doors were open. He was standing by the fireplace. The Duke of Blackthorn. He was younger than I expected. Maybe thirty. Black hair, sharp jaw, and eyes that looked like they hadn’t slept in years. He wore all black. He didn’t look at me. “Leave it,” he said. “Yes, Your Grace.” As I turned, my hands shook and the tray slipped. The teacup shattered on the marble floor. Silence. Then his eyes snapped to mine. Cold. Furious. For a second I thought he would kill me. “Clean it,” he snarled. “And don’t let me see your face again.” I scrubbed the floor until it shined, my heart pounding. When I left, I could feel him watching me. That night, the screaming started at midnight. Not human screaming. Something deeper. Like an animal being torn apart. Like metal bending. I buried my head under the pillow. Rule 3. Rule 3. --- I told myself it was the wind. I told myself I was imagining it. But the next morning, there were claw marks on the study door. Deep. Fresh. The butler saw me looking and grabbed my arm. His grip was like ice. “Forget what you saw,” he hissed. “You need this job. Your mother needs the medicine, doesn’t she?” How did he know about my mother? I nodded and went back to work. For two days I was perfect. Early. Silent. Invisible. But the money wasn’t coming fast enough. The letters from the apothecary kept coming. _Pay overdue._ And the screaming got worse. --- *The third one... I broke on night three.* The screaming started at midnight. Not human screaming. Something deeper. Like an animal being torn apart. My hands shook as I pressed against the big oak door in the west wing. “Your Grace?” I whispered. Silence. Then a growl that shook the floor. The door clicked open by itself. And inside, standing in the moonlight with claws and golden eyes, was the Duke I served tea to every morning. Half man. Half beast. Fur rippling over his shoulders. Blood on his mouth. “Run,” he snarled. But it was too late. He already saw me. The beast took a step forward. The floor cracked under his weight. “Please,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to—” His golden eyes narrowed. He was staring at me like I was prey. Like I was the reason for the pain. The door slammed shut behind me. And the last thing I heard before darkness took me was his voice, no longer human: “Now you’re mine.”