The Duke's Slave Daughter

Chapter 13

"Urania!? She's alive!?"

The shock in Daeva's voice echoed through the room, a sentiment that resonated with the astonishment etched across her features. She locked eyes with Urania, standing there before her, a living testament to resilience and survival. This was a stark contrast to the memory Daeva held, of a broken girl who had been begging for her life. The revelation of Urania's continued existence left Daeva in a state of awe.

Urania's gaze remained unwavering as it bore into Daeva's, each step she took towards her a deliberate movement that seemed to magnify the gravity of the situation. In response, Daeva's discomfort began to manifest physically—her eyes quivered, her attempts to avert her gaze were futile, and an unsteady rhythm overtook her trembling body.

A tension swelled in the room, the very air thickened with apprehension. It was as if the weight of the past bore down on them, pulling them into a confrontation they couldn't escape. For each step Urania took forward, Daeva instinctively took one back, a dance of uncertainty underscored by the palpable weight of the moment.

"What do you think you're doing?" One of Daeva's maids challenged Urania, the audacity of her question hanging heavily in the room. The tone she adopted was a shade lower than her usual, a deliberate choice that dripped with disdain—a clear show of disrespect.

The atmosphere was a tableau of stunned silence, a collective pause that held everyone captive, awaiting Urania's response. Her answer seemed almost unnecessary as she gazed unyieldingly at the maid. Her eyes met the other woman's without flinching, a level stare that conveyed more than words ever could.

Urania's height, a marked contrast to Daeva and her maids, lent her an imposing air. To meet the maid's eyes, Urania had to bow her head slightly, a movement that only amplified the intensity of her gaze. The combination of her height and the expressionlessness of her face cast a shadow of unease upon the scene.

The bristling tension escalated as the room held its breath, pregnant with the unsaid and unresolved. The moments were pregnant with unspoken words, poised on the precipice of confrontation.

"You wretched fool! You dare to show your face here —"

Before the maid could finish her vitriolic words, Aisha's voice pierced the fray, a sharp rebuke that echoed like a whip-c***k. "Daeva!" Her anger was palpable, her fury a force to be reckoned with as she marched forward, her fiery gaze fixed on the defiant maid.

Aisha's wrath found a target, a manifestation in the form of a resounding slap that struck the maid's cheek with brutal force. The room seemed to shudder in the aftermath, a moment suspended in time as the sting of Aisha's reprimand registered.

Silence held sway, the gravity of Aisha's actions reverberating. Even Daeva's other maid recoiled, unwilling to provoke further ire. In the face of Aisha's unrelenting anger, their previous disdain had waned to insignificance.

Aisha's voice, sharp and piercing, carved through the aftermath. "Daeva, is this the conduct my brother taught you? Can you not even guide your own maids in propriety? Is my presence so easily disregarded?"

Aisha's words were aimed at Daeva, but her gaze was fixed on the maid, still cowering on the floor, clutching her reddened cheek.

Aisha's hand had nearly imprinted a mark onto the maid's skin. The cut on her lip bled, and her body quivered, drenched in humiliation. As she gingerly touched her throbbing cheek, her head lifted hesitantly. But her rising anger was swiftly quelled when she met a pair of eyes that radiated an abyssal darkness—Urania's eyes.

Urania's gaze bore into her like a piercing beacon from the depths of a shadowy chasm. The world around the maid began to fade into obscurity. She could no longer see the light, hear the sounds, or escape the nightmares spiraling into reality. It was hell incarnate that manifested in Urania's eyes.

"I apologize for this, Aunt Aisha! I will ensure that my maids are properly disciplined. They've clearly overstepped their boundaries."

Daeva offered her other maid a gentle tap on the back, directing her attention towards the sobbing maid. The questioning frown on her co-maid's face betrayed her thoughts—was Aisha's slap really powerful enough to induce such tears?

Daeva averted her gaze from Aisha, her thoughts racing to find a solution. She couldn't afford for her father to hear about this incident, to be disappointed in her. The falsehoods, the sacrifices she had made to secure her position—everything would crumble to dust.

True, she had orchestrated her way into the duchy by deceit, replacing Urania, leading her to what should have been her doom. But Daeva hadn't anticipated Urania's return, and the resurgence of the true duchy. She thought her life would continue its façade of happiness, yet now, everything was threatened.

Taking a concealed deep breath, Daeva's outward demeanor remained composed, her eyes fixated on Urania. The latter had been watching her intently, her gaze both serious and ominously calculating. Though Daeva's surface was serene, beneath, a storm of thoughts brewed—a sinister plan was taking form, seeking to erase Urania as a rival.

When Daeva lowered her head in a display of submission, Aisha was taken aback. She had expected Daeva to protest or protect her maids. But Daeva's next words surprised her even more.

"Please accept my profound apologies, Aunt Aisha. I pledge that such an incident will never recur. I shall personally ensure the reprimand and guidance of my maids."

Aisha's desire to discipline them wavered. Her brother held a deep affection for Daeva; hurting her would yield a series of consequences she wasn't willing to face. Aisha decided to monitor Daeva more closely, especially now that she knew Urania was alive and that Daeva would be stirred into action.

As Daeva moved to leave, passing Urania, the latter leaned in close and whispered a single phrase, her voice cold as ice.

"I've found you."