Chapter 132: The Room That Refused to Bow
Chapter 131: The Room That Refused to Bow
Lyria’s POV
"Oh," one of them said, her voice carrying a note that hovered somewhere between surprise and disappointment. "It seems you are almost done with cleaning."
I straightened slowly.
For a moment, I said nothing.
Dust still clung faintly to the air, disturbed by my work. The cloth around my nose made each breath warm, and the sleeves of my dress were rolled higher than was proper. My hands—my hands did not look like those of a princess.
That thought lingered for half a second too long.
Then I turned.
Three of them stood by the door, eyes on me as they watched.
I lowered the cloth from my face and let it rest loosely around my neck.
Silence stretched.
Then, quietly, I spoke.
"W-what is y-your name?"
My voice came out softer than intended.
The one who had spoken first—tall, sharp-eyed, with a mouth that seemed permanently tilted toward disapproval—looked at me as though I had said something mildly offensive.
Her expression twisted.
"Though you are in no position to know my name," she said, her tone cool, "I suppose I shall tell you regardless."
She paused before adding,
"As we are to be working together now."
There was something deliberate in the way she said that.
Something almost mocking.
"My name is Diana."
She lifted her chin slightly as she spoke it.
The other two followed, though with far less ceremony.
"Theresa," said the second, her voice flatter, her gaze already wandering past me and into the chamber.
"And I am Sally," the third added, quieter, though her eyes moved more than the others—watching, measuring, calculating.
I nodded once.
"T-thank you," I said softly.
Then, after a brief pause, I added,
"We h-have not been f-formally introduced. My name is Lyria."
The words had barely settled when Diana scoffed.
"Yes," she said. "Everyone knows who the demon of the palace is."
Something in my chest tightened. I hated that word. But I did nothing to correct her because then she would see just how much the word affected me, and that was not something I could risk.
"I s-see."
My voice remained even.
If they expected anger, they would not find it.
If they expected hurt...
They would not see that either.
I exhaled slowly, then gestured faintly toward the chamber.
"I h-have finished cleaning," I said. "The c-chambers are in o-order now."
I turned slightly toward the wash basin.
"I will b-be washing up shortly," I added. "Y-you may go."
It was polite.
A dismissal, though gently phrased.
Sally and Theresa exchanged a glance. It was quick, but I saw it, and then Theresa moved.
She walked into the chamber.
I watched her as she passed me as though I were no more than part of the furniture.
Her fingers brushed lightly over the edge of the desk.
She paused there.
Examining.
Inspecting.
As though she had been sent to evaluate something of importance.
As though this were her place to judge.
I said nothing at first.
I simply watched.
She moved to the window next, her gaze trailing over the cleaned panes, the corners, the floorboards I had just finished scrubbing.
What exactly... did she think she was doing?
Diana remained by the door, arms loosely folded, her attention half on Theresa, half on me.
Sally lingered slightly behind, quieter, though no less present.
It was not obedience.
It was assessment.
That much was clear.
I turned my gaze back to Theresa.
Then, calmly, I spoke.
"W-what do you th-think you are doing?"
Theresa paused.
Slowly, she turned her head toward me.
"I am ensuring the chamber is spotless," she said, as though the answer were obvious.
I tilted my head slightly.
"W-why?"
That made her blink in shock.
Then she frowned.
"It is my duty, Lyria," she said. "To ensure it is suitable for someone of your... standing."
There was a slight hesitation before that last word.
I noticed, and instead of that annoying me, it only made me smile.
"Is it?" I asked softly, taking a small step forward.
The floor no longer creaked beneath my weight—not after the care I had taken to learn which boards betrayed sound.
Theresa did not move.
But her posture stiffened slightly.
I studied her for a moment.
Then I realised something.
She had called me by my name.
Not "your highness."
Not even mockingly.
Just... Lyria.
Strange, what one notices.
Stranger still, what one chooses to care about.
I exhaled slowly.
This was not care. This was not duty. This was testing. They were measuring how far they could go.
How much I would allow.
How easily I would bend.
Perhaps, if they had been subtle, I might have ignored it.
Perhaps I would have let it pass, but they were not subtle.
Not at all.
And I was not who I was before. I was not my younger self, the same one who allowed people to pick on her without a care.
I drew in a slow breath, steadying the slight tremor that always threatened to betray me.
When I spoke again, my voice remained soft.
But there was something firmer beneath it now.
"Tell me," I said, tilting my head slightly. "Are we on the s-same level?"
Theresa frowned.
"I beg your pardon?"
I smiled again.
A little wider this time.
"Are we the s-same?" I repeated. "You and I?"
My fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the desk she had just inspected.
"Am I a m-maid, like you? Like Diana? Like Sally?"
Silence followed my words.
Theresa stared at me.
Her mouth parted slightly.
Her eyes widened in shock. It was obvious she had not expected that question from me.
Diana shifted near the door, the faintest movement betraying her attention sharpening.
Sally said nothing at all.
But she did not look away.
And all the while, I held Theresa’s gaze.
She finally closed her mouth, swallowing audibly before speaking again.
"I beg your pardon?" she asked me.
