Chapter Sixty-Seven

The maidservant shut the small wooden door with a sharp snap, paying Shadowmoon no further heed.

Inside, Shadowmoon let out a muffled groan, rubbing her nose where the door had caught it. With a quiet sigh, she turned and began to bathe.

Water streamed down her cheeks to her neck, then slid over her smooth back, flowing downward and washing away all the grime and exhaustion that clung to her.

“Hurry up! How long do you plan to wash? Don’t forget, the young lady is still waiting for you. You’re nothing but a slave!”

A slave? The word struck Shadowmoon as she bathed, her whole body stiffening. Had she truly fallen so low? A slave? She wasn’t even considered a maid anymore—just a slave. How ludicrous. This woman was certainly eager to remind her of her place.

Shadowmoon quickly rinsed herself, dressed, and stepped out.

“What about this?” she asked, holding up the servant’s uniform that had been torn by the hunting dogs.

The maidservant glanced at it and spoke as she walked away, “Leave it here for now. Retrieve it after you return from the young lady’s chambers. From now on, you’ll only have this one and the one you’re wearing to alternate between.”

Shadowmoon placed the bloodstained garment in the bathroom and followed the maidservant toward the main house.

Knock, knock, knock—the maidservant stood respectfully outside Maria’s door, rapping gently. “Miss, I’ve brought her.”

There was no response from within. The maidservant said nothing more, waiting quietly for Maria’s instructions. After a long pause, Maria’s languid voice drifted out, “Let her in. You may go.”

“Yes, Miss.” The maidservant replied with deference, then turned to Shadowmoon with a harsh tone, “Serve the young lady well. Don’t upset her. If you do, you won’t be the only one to suffer.”

Shadowmoon glanced at the maidservant without a word, turned, and opened the door to Maria’s room.

Seeing her indifference, the maidservant bristled with anger, muttering, “Hmph, who do you think you are? Isn’t the young lady taming you just the same?” With that, she stomped off in a huff.

Shadowmoon ignored her. Since coming here, she had never been treated as a person. If they showed her no respect, she saw no reason to be courteous in return.

As Shadowmoon opened the door, a heavy fragrance of roses flooded her senses, making her dizzy for a moment. She looked up to see the room awash in rose-red hues, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers, as though she’d stepped into a rose garden. And at the center of it all, the seductive woman seemed like the very spirit of a rose, stealing all attention.

Regaining her composure, Shadowmoon saw Maria sprawled across a large, rose-colored bed at the room’s center. On either side of her stood two handsome stewards, both wearing charming smiles and white gloves. One held a tray, offering fruit to Maria with a gentle hand, while the other had rolled his sleeves to the elbow, his long, fair hands slick with oil as he massaged Maria’s bare back. Maria herself wore an expression of pure bliss, sighing contentedly.

Shadowmoon felt her cheeks grow hot. Though she knew it was merely a massage, the scene—a beautiful woman attended by handsome men—carried a charged, ambiguous air.

As Shadowmoon shifted her gaze, her face flushed, Maria spoke. “I suppose you know that a massage from the opposite sex stimulates a woman’s hormones, making her skin more beautiful.”