"You... what have you done?" she whispered, her voice barely holding together.
Eon wiped his cheek. "I made you a widow, my lady. You're welcome."
Her mind spun. Shock hit her like a wave, but she pushed it down. For a minute she just stood there staring at Eon and the headless count.
She didn't panic. Although this entire situation was fucked up (Eon killing her husband), she was not in grief nor did she feel pity.
She woke up from her shocked moment. There was no time for tears. If word got out that the count was dead, every creditor and rival would swarm the estate like hungry wolves. The family would lose everything: the land, the title, maybe even Julius. She had to act fast.
"Guards!" she called, her voice sharper now. Two men who had stayed back from the panic pushed into the room, their faces white. They stared at the bodies, swords half-drawn.
"My lady... the count..." one stammered.
"Quiet," Teressa said, stepping forward. "Lock this elf in the deepest cell. Chain him tight. No one talks to him without my say-so."
The guards grabbed Eon. He didn't fight, just gave her a look as they dragged him away.
Once he was gone, Teressa turned to the people left in the basement: a few servants who hadn't run, the elves huddled against the walls, and her own guards. Their eyes were wide with shock.
"Listen to me," she said, making her voice strong even though her heart pounded. "What happened here never leaves this room. The count's death must stay secret. If it gets out, our enemies will come for us all. They'll take the house, the lands, everything. We'll end up on the streets or worse. No one leaves the mansion until I figure this out. No letters, no messages. If I hear even a whisper, you will be hanged for that, no questions asked."
The servants nodded quickly, some with tears in their eyes. The elves just stared, too scared to speak. One maid was about to open her mouth, but Teressa cut her off. "Clean this up. Wrap the bodies and hide them in the cold storage. We'll deal with burials later. For now, the world must think the count is alive and well."
She climbed the stairs, her legs feeling heavy. The mansion was still buzzing from the earlier chaos, servants whispering in the halls. She gathered them all in the main room, standing tall like nothing was wrong.
"There was a fight in the basement," she said with a straight face. "Nothing more. The count is resting. No one goes in or out without my permission. Spread any rumors, and you're gone."
The old butler nodded, his face serious. He had been with the family for years, loyal through all the bad times. "As you wish, my lady."
Teressa went straight to Julius's room. Her son was asleep at last, thanks to Eon's medicine, but he looked so weak. His skin was pale, his breathing shallow. She sat by his bed, holding his hand. "My boy," she whispered, brushing his hair back.
The doctors came in quietly. "He's better, my lady," one of them said while adjusting his glasses. "But the effects linger. His body needs time. Keep him resting, give him broth and herbs."
She nodded, but worry gnawed at her. Julius had been up all night from that strange sleeplessness, and even with the cure, he wasn't right. Fever came and went, his eyes sometimes opened wide with confusion. "Mother... elves..." he mumbled in his sleep.
Teressa spent the day moving like a shadow through the house. She checked every door, made sure guards were posted. No one could leave, not even for supplies. "We'll use what we have," she told the cook.
In the study, she pored over papers. The count's signature was easy to copy; she had done it before on small things. Now she wrote letters as if he was still alive, delaying payments, making excuses. Her hands shook, but she kept going.
By evening, exhaustion hit her. She visited the basement witnesses again, one by one. "Swear you'll keep quiet," she said to each. Some also got promises of gold, others threats.
One guard admitted he had told his brother outside. "Bring him here," she ordered. "Lock him in too."
The elves were quiet, their wounds bandaged roughly. Elsa and Verra were now at their usual cell, locked up. Earlier when Teressa came by their cell to interrogate, they looked at her with a mix of fear and something else. Teressa didn't care at the stare. She had to protect her son, her home. She didn't torture or threaten them, because she knew in her heart somehow, that it was all Eon.
Night fell, and she sat by Julius again. He woke for a bit, sipping water. "What happened to me, Mother?" he asked, his voice still weak.
"A fever," she lied. "You'll be fine soon."
But he wasn't. The next day, he could sit up, but dizziness kept him down. The doctors shook their heads. "His heart races sometimes. Give it time."
Teressa barely slept. She paced the halls, checking on servants, making sure no one sneaked out. Grief for her husband came in flashes; she had loved him once, before it all went wrong. Now he was gone, and she was alone with this mess.
On the third day, Julius ate a little solid food, color coming back to his cheeks. But he tired easily, falling asleep mid-sentence. Teressa worked harder, forging more documents, planning how to announce the count's "illness" to buy time.
She thought about Eon in the cell. What magic had he used? How had he killed so easily? She went down once to the deep dungeon where only the criminals are placed, lantern in hand. He was sitting there chained, looking up with those calm eyes.
"Why?" she asked.
Hearing her straight question without any grief in her voice even Eon was a little baffled. He also replied with a simple answer. "For freedom," he said simply. "Yours too, in a way."
She left just hearing this, without saying a single word after that, confused and angry.
As she walked through the long corridor to her room, the house felt like a cage, everyone tense, waiting for her to fix it.
Four days passed. Julius walked a few steps, but weakness pulled him back. Teressa's eyes had dark circles, her hands raw from writing. She started thinking of a plan: sneak out at night, go to her brother's barony for help. He had men, money. She could save the estate. Even if they had married her off at an early age, surely they wouldn't turn away from her if she were to ask for help.
On the fifth morning, she packed a small bag, hidden under her cloak. Julius was stronger, able to eat alone. "I'll be back soon," she whispered to him. "Stay strong."
But as she headed to the stables, horns blared from the gates. Shouts echoed. "Open the gate! Or we will break it!"
Teressa ran to the window. Riders filled the courtyard, banners flapping in the wind. The Denares brothers.
Her blood went cold. 'How did they know?'
Alaric Denares dismounted first, tall and calm, his face hard. Darius followed, grinning like a wolf, his eyes scanning the house.
Teressa rushed down, her guards forming a line. "What do you want?" she called.
Alaric held up papers. "Your husband is dead. We know. He died without paying our loan. So as per contract we will take his property appropriately to fill in the loan. Obviously, if his entire property can't make the debt go away, we can also take family members for settling the score."
Darius laughed. "As you and we both know, the loan is much bigger than the entire territory of yours worth, so you, pretty Teressa, are to come with us. We'll take good care of you."
She backed away. "Lies! He's alive!"
Darius chuckled at her reply as he stepped forward. "Oh really?!"
She backed away slowly, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. "No... this is all lies! My husband is alive! He's upstairs, resting from his illness. You can't just barge in here and say such things!"
The words tumbled out of her, desperate and raw, her voice cracking with a mix of fear and defiance. Inside, a storm raged, disbelief, terror, a flickering hope that this was some cruel joke. 'How could they know? I had sealed the house tight, sworn everyone to silence.' Her mind raced, but she pushed the panic down, forcing herself to stand tall even as her knees trembled.
Alaric's face remained stone-cold, his eyes narrowing as he waved the papers like they were a weapon. "Save the act, Teressa. We have our ways. Your fat fool of a husband is gone, and so is any chance of paying us back. The contract is clear, everything he owned is forfeit. That includes this crumbling pile of stones... and you."
Darius let out a low, guttural chuckle that sent chills down her spine. He stepped forward, blatantly gazing at her body like she was a prize on display, lingering too long on the curve of her hips, the swell of her chest under her gown, like a hungry wolf. "Oh, yes, especially you," he purred, his voice dripping with sleaze. "I've waited years for this moment, dreaming about what I'd do with a fine piece like you. No more hiding behind your husband's skirts. You're coming with us, and you'll pay with your body for every last coin of that debt on your back if that's what it takes."
Teressa's stomach twisted in revulsion, bile rising in her throat. His words felt like dirty hands on her skin already. "Get away from me, you pig!" she spat, her voice breaking as she swung her free hand at his face. But Darius was faster; he caught her wrist in a bruising grip, yanking her close enough that she could smell the wine on his breath, she felt the heat of his body pressing against hers.
"Feisty, aren't you?" he growled, his free hand grabbing her other arm, pinning her in place. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "I like that. Makes it more fun to break you. Imagine it, those soft curves of yours, writhing under me while my brother watches. We'll take turns, make you beg for more. And don't worry, we won't make you serve other people, just us two brothers. You're too good for that. Our private toy, day and night." He gave a wicked smile as he said this.
Teressa's breath came in short, panicked gasps, tears stinging her eyes as she struggled wildly. She twisted her body, kicked at his shins with all her strength, her nails digging into his forearms until she drew blood. "No! Let me go! You can't do this, I won't let you!" Her mind screamed for help, for someone, anyone, to step in. 'This couldn't be happening, not to me, not after everything I have endured.'
As Darius started dragging her toward the carriage, his grip like vices on her arms, she caught sight of movement in the hall. Carla, her loyal maid, appeared at the edge of the corridor, eyes wide with horror. For a split second, their gazes locked, Teressa's pleading, Carla's filled with helpless fear. Then Carla turned and bolted deeper into the house, disappearing around a corner toward the back stairs, perhaps to Julius or some hidden spot. Teressa's heart ached; was she running to get help, or just to save herself?
Nearby, the old butler stood rigid, his hand clenched around the handle of his wand hidden under his coat sleeve. His knuckles were white, veins bulging, as if he was fighting every instinct to draw it and blast these intruders. But he didn't move, his eyes darting to the dozens of armed men filling the courtyard. One wrong spell, and the whole house would burn. Teressa saw the agony in his face, the man who had served her family for decades, now powerless.
"See?" Darius sneered, noticing her glance. "Even your dogs know better than to bite. Now come on, sweetheart. Time to start paying up." He gave her a rough shove, his hand sliding lower to grip her waist possessively, fingers digging in just enough to make her wince.
Teressa's struggles weakened as the reality sank in, her body aching from the effort, tears now streaming freely down her cheeks. The humiliation burned, being manhandled like this in her own home, with no one daring to intervene. She felt exposed, violated already by his touch and his filthy words. "Please... no," she whimpered, her voice small and broken, all the fight draining out as they reached the carriage.
Alaric watched impassively, then barked orders to his men. "Secure the gates. Twenty of you stay, lock this place down tight. No one in or out. If anyone tries to send a raven or slip away, cut them down. Start with that sniveling maid and the old fool with the wand if they so much as twitch."
Darius shoved Teressa into the carriage, climbing in after her with a predatory grin. The door slammed shut, plunging them into dim light. As the horses jolted forward, Teressa curled against the seat, sobs shaking her body. How had it come to this? Her husband dead, her home invaded, and now this monster leering at her.
That's when the thought crept in, slow and insidious. Eon. That elf slave's sudden change, his boldness, his magic, killing the count like it was nothing.
'Was he part of this? Had the Denares planted him somehow?' It made a twisted kind of sense, but her mind was too raw to piece it together fully yet. She hugged her knees, trying to block out Darius's heavy breathing beside her, his hand already reaching to stroke her hair.
Author Note: Teressa now faces a fate worse than death. Be sure to read the next chapter to know, what happens to her!
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