Page 40 of Cursed By Gold

Darius steps forward, his expression serious as he intervenes. "My apologies, Lord Greystone. Scarlet has a lot on her mind this morning," he says, his voice steady and calm, offering me a lifeline in this uncomfortable situation.

I shoot Darius a small smile of thanks. "It's nothing," I assure Lord Greystone, forcing a smile. "I'm just tired from last night. And anxious about what the next trial holds."

Lord Greystone straightens, his eyes narrowing as he studies me. "The trials come with a lot of pressure," he says sympathetically, but the sympathy feels false. He gestures for us to follow and starts down the hallway. "But that pressure can be used to your advantage too! It'll drive you to do better and push yourself further than you ever thought possible." He claps me on the back in encouragement, but the gesture feels possessive, not supportive.

As we continue down the hallway, I glance and notice King Remme watching us intently. His face is a mask of neutrality, but I can see the tension in his posture. He has stopped walking and paused his conversation, seemingly ignoring the man speaking to him. What is he thinking? Why is he so focused on us? His eyes are unreadable, making it impossible for me to decipher his thoughts.

Lord Greystone continues to drone on about the importance of composure and attention to detail, his voice oozing with self-importance. "As my future wife, you must always be vigilant. You will be held to a higher standard," he says, his tone both commanding and patronizing.

My blood boils, and I force myself to remain calm. "I won't be marrying you," I snap, my voice shaking with barely contained anger. The words hang in the air between us, a challenge that I know he won't let go unanswered.

Lord Greystone stops, his smirk widening into a grin. "Oh, Scarlet," he says, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I do enjoy a good challenge."

I force a smile, my heart pounding in my chest. "I'll keep that in mind," I say, my voice strained.

Sensing the need for an escape, Darius quickly adds, "We should be heading to the dining hall. Competitors only, you know. Important to start the day right."

Lord Greystone's smirk widens as he leans in close, his breath hot against my ear. "You can try to avoid me all you want, Scarlet, but you can't escape this. Your stepmother and I have an understanding. I've always watched you, wanted you, and I always get what I want," he whispers, his voice dripping with possessive confidence.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I fight the urge to recoil. "Let's go, Darius," I say, my voice trembling slightly as I pull away from Lord Greystone's oppressive presence.

As we walk away, I feel Lord Greystone's gaze burning into my back. I glance back at King Remme again, who is still watching. Our eyes meet once more, and I feel a sense of reassurance. Despite the turmoil surrounding me, there is a glimmer of hope. The king’s expression remains inscrutable, but his attention feels like a lifeline in the midst of the storm.

Darius guides me down the hallway, his hand a comforting presence on my arm. "Are you alright?" he asks softly, his concern evident.

I nod, though my mind is spinning. "I'll be fine. Thank you, Darius."

He gives me a reassuring smile. "Remember, you're not alone in this. We'll find a way through."

As we enter the dining hall, the tension begins to ease, but the weight of Lord Greystone's words lingers.

The Trap

Scarlet

The cobblestone streets echo softly beneath my boots as I walk home, each step a rhythmic lullaby that attempts to soothe the chaos in my mind. Life bustles around me in the marketplace, vendors calling out their wares, children laughing and playing, but I barely notice. Lingering heavily on my thoughts is the encounter with Lord Greystone, his menacing smirk etched into my memory. I replay the scene over and over, the way his eyes bore into mine, the subtle threat in his voice. My hands still tremble slightly, a physical manifestation of the unease that coils within me. I know I need to speak with Fairy Godmother; her wisdom and comfort are the balm I so desperately need right now.

As I near the edge of the marketplace, the familiar sights and sounds of home begin to seep into my consciousness. The manor comes into view, its serene facade a stark contrast to the turmoil I know lies within. My heart tightens at the sight, a mixture of dread and determination settling in my chest. This place, thisproperty, is my inheritance, the legacy my father left for me. I love every stone, every flower in the garden he tended to so lovingly. Stepping onto the property, the muffled chaos of my family reaches my ears. Voices raised in argument, the clatter of something heavy falling to the floor—typical sounds of discord that seem to define my home life.

I pause for a moment, listening to the uproar. My stepmother's sharp voice cuts through the air, followed by my stepsisters' high-pitched complaints. A pang of frustration and helplessness stabs at me, tears threatening to well up in my eyes as I think about the injustice of it all. They treat this place like their personal kingdom, and me, just a pawn in their cruel game. Yet, I cannot abandon it; this manor is my sanctuary, my father's dream, and I must protect it until I can rightfully claim it as my own.

I make a conscious decision to avoid them, slipping through the side entrance that leads to the kitchen, my sanctuary. As I enter, the warmth and scents of freshly baked bread and brewing tea wrap around me like a comforting embrace. I close my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to breathe deeply and let the tension ease from my shoulders. This is the one place where I can find some semblance of peace, away from the judgmental glares and harsh words.

Fairy Godmother's presence fills the room, her soft humming a soothing melody that calms my frayed nerves. She is more of a mother to me than my own stepmother, her kindness and wisdom a guiding light in the darkness that often surrounds me. I know she will listen, understand, and offer the guidance I so desperately need.

The kitchen is warm and inviting. Fairy Godmother stands at the counter, her back to me, a soft hum escaping her lips as she works. My heart swells with a mix of relief and gratitude. I pause in the doorway, taking in the sight of her deft hands expertlypreparing a meal. With a flick of her wrist, a knife begins chopping vegetables on its own, a small but impressive display of her magic.

"Fairy Godmother," I call softly, stepping fully into the room. She turns, her eyes lighting up with a mixture of surprise and delight at the sight of me.

"Scarlet, my dear," she says, wiping her hands on her apron before pulling me into a warm embrace. "I didn't expect you so soon."

"I needed to see you," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. "There's so much to talk about."

She nods, understanding without needing further explanation. "Come, sit," she says, guiding me to a chair at the worn wooden table. I take a seat, feeling the weight of my worries beginning to lift. "The house is in good condition, I assure you. Your stepmother is none the wiser about my little enhancements."

I glance around, noticing the absence of the usual clutter and disarray. The floors are spotless, and the air feels lighter. "You've done wonders," I say, a note of awe in my voice.

She chuckles, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "A little magic goes a long way, my dear. Now, tell me about the trials. How have they gone so far?"

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