One evening, in the border town of Shadaf in the Kingdom of Rose…
“This is all your fault!”
The sharp sound of a slap followed by a dull thud rang out from within a room in the estate of the Margrave of Ardennes.
A young girl lay crumpled on the floor. The force of the strike had sent her petite frame flying. She splayed both arms out in front of her in an effort to prop herself up. Tears welled in her eyes, and she hung her head low. Her cheek, already swollen in every which place from previous blows, flushed hot with pain.
Her frizzy, shoulder length beige-blonde hair was covered in soot. Her skin was a pale, sickly white; malnourishment had left her thin and fragile. She was clothed in the simple attire of a handmaiden, ragged and dirtied all over.
“My apologies, mother. Please, forgive me.”
Her apology came right on the heels of the blow, for she knew if it didn’t, it would only be received with greater violence.
This young woman, subject to cruelty day in and day out, treated as lesser and despicable, was Chloe Ardennes.
Chloe lowered her head in deference and uttered words of apology again and again and again to the woman—her mother, Isabella—who had just struck her.
Isabella fixed a glare on Chloe usually reserved for vermin and bellowed, “You. If only you’d never been born, I’d—”
A barrage of verbal abuse followed.
You don’t deserve to live. You are useless. If only you’d never been born. The string of insults was rote to Chloe. She simply endured the abuse and continued to apologize, but that did little to abate Isabella’s anger. Finally, Isabella grabbed Chloe by the collar, lifted her face up from the floor, and struck her cheek once more with all her might.
A warm sensation gushed from Chloe’s nose as splotches of dark red bloomed in her field of view.
Drip… drip…
The last blow had ruptured something in her nose.
Isabella heaved ragged, shallow breaths. There was no hint of compassion or pity in her eyes—only contempt.
A proper, decent mother would never subject her daughter to such a pitiless gaze; Chloe knew as much, and had resigned herself to her condition regardless.
“If you leave so much as a single drop of your filthy blood on my floors…” Isabella uttered one final threat before wrenching the door open and seeing herself out.
Thank goodness that was the worst of it today, Chloe thought as she pinched her nose to stop the bleeding. She finally had a moment to compose herself.
Once the bleeding stopped, she woozily picked herself up off the floor, but froze upon seeing the dark splotches of her own blood there. I need to clean this up now before it dries.
As she rushed to find something to wipe it up with, a voice rang out from behind her.
“Oh dear, oh my… How terrible. It happened again today, didn’t it?”
Chloe turned around to see a woman with fiery red hair that gently bobbed up and down as she chuckled to herself. Unlike Chloe, her skin was as white as porcelain, and her sublime figure the subject of every man’s desire. She’d slipped into an extravagant dress—the spitting image of a noblewoman’s daughter.
“Lily…” Chloe addressed her sister three years her elder.
Lily’s face twisted into a wicked expression as she stood next to Chloe.
Chloe felt her shoulders shudder. She was all too familiar with the violence her sister could enact.
“Say…you’re free, aren’t you?” said Lily. “I’ve a tea party at Count Morgan’s the day after tomorrow. There’s this dress I’ve been dying to wear but I need it embroidered with something lovely.”
“An embroidery…?” Chloe was quite familiar with the request—or command, rather. Having been forced to do all kinds of needlework since her childhood, her embroideries were well-received at tea parties. Though Lily, of course, never attributed a single shred of credit to Chloe.
Chloe heaved a sigh internally. “Of course. When do you need it?”
“Oh I don’t know… How about…tomorrow morning?”
“To-Tomorrow morning?” Chloe exclaimed. It was already late into the night. That would be a tough deadline to meet, even for someone of her skill. “I-I still have chores to do, don’t you think you’re—”
Lily struck Chloe’s other cheek—the one her mother had spared.
“Don’t you think I’m what?” An indifferent expression on her face, Lily grabbed a handful of Chloe’s hair and gave it a hard yank.
“Ow, ow! Stop, stop!” Chloe protested.
“Don’t you mean, please stop, dear sister?” Lily taunted, throwing Chloe to the floor. Looking down at her, a sadistic smile crept onto her face. “Did that hurt? You poor thing…”
Chloe fought to hold back the tears that threatened to pour out.
“Oh but what can you do?” Contorting her lips into a sneer, Lily emphasized every last word. “You’re a cursed child, after all.”
