SWEET SORIRE

Episode Six : A Predator’s Gaze

Sorire had begun to find her rhythm in the estate. She rose with the dawn, worked swiftly in the kitchens, and returned to the servants’ quarters long after dark. The rules she had learned—keep her head down, never complain, protect her friends when she could—kept her safe. Or so she thought.

But danger came not only from the steward’s whip. It came from the master’s bloodline itself.

The eldest son, Daren, was the first to notice her. He carried himself like a hunter in his own home, tall and broad, with a smile that seemed charming to outsiders but unsettled everyone who knew him. To the servants, he was feared not for his temper, but for his eyes—eyes that lingered too long.

Sorire felt that gaze the first time she carried a tray into the dining hall. As she placed fruit on the table, Daren leaned closer than necessary, his fingers brushing hers as though by accident. But it was no accident. The touch lingered, and when she dared glance up, his eyes gleamed with hunger.

“You’re new,” he said in a low voice, lips curving. “And far too pretty to waste in the kitchens.”

Her breath caught. She lowered her gaze instantly, bowed her head, and hurried away. His laughter followed her, echoing down the hall.

That night, Sorire lay restless on her straw mat. Every shadow at the doorway made her tense. Elira, curled beside her, noticed her trembling.

“What happened?” Elira whispered.

Sorire hesitated, but the words pressed against her chest until they spilled out. She told Elira about Daren’s eyes, the way his hand lingered, the way his words felt like chains tightening around her.

Elira’s expression darkened. “You must be careful. The sons… they take what they want. And no one dares stop them.”

Sorire’s heart pounded. “What do I do?”

Elira reached for her hand, squeezing it. “Avoid him when you can. Never be alone in the halls. Keep your eyes down, but don’t let him think you’re inviting him either. It’s a game, Sorire. A dangerous one. You must walk the line.”

Her voice carried the weight of someone who knew. Sorire swallowed hard, realizing her friend had suffered more than she admitted.

But Daren was not the only threat. His younger brother, Calen, was wilder—reckless where Daren was calculated. He mocked the servants openly, overturned plates when displeased, and once kicked a boy for not moving fast enough. His cruelty was unpredictable, but his gaze carried the same dangerous glint as his brother’s.

One afternoon, Sorire was scrubbing the stone steps in the courtyard when a shadow fell across her. She looked up and froze. Calen stood above her, leaning lazily against the railing, his smirk sharp.

“You’re the farmer’s girl,” he drawled. “My brother has spoken of you.” His grin widened. “But perhaps I’ll take you first.”

Sorire’s hands trembled in the soapy water. She lowered her head, willing herself to stay still. But before Calen could lean closer, Elira appeared from the doorway, bowing quickly.

“Master Calen,” she said smoothly, “the steward is looking for you.”

Calen’s smirk faltered. He scowled, muttered something under his breath, and stalked away.

When the danger passed, Sorire’s breath shuddered out. She clutched Elira’s hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Elira’s gaze softened, though her voice was firm. “You’re not alone, Sorire. Not while I’m here.”

That night, Sorire could not sleep. The rules of survival were changing. It was no longer only about scrubbing floors and avoiding punishment. She was hunted, and if she wished to endure, she would need more than obedience. She would need courage, allies, and a spirit that refused to be broken.