Inside the small bathroom, my breaths came in short, shallow bursts. But with the last of my strength, I forced myself to stand, trembling.
In the cracked mirror, the reflection that stared back at me was hollow and broken. But my eyes… they burned.
I pushed the bathroom door open, wrapping my ruined dress tightly around me.
Gareth’s body stiffened. He was standing beside Gwyneth, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching. Waiting.
For a moment, I saw a flicker of doubt in his sharp wolfish eyes. What if she didn’t mean for the wardrobe accident to happen?
No. That couldn’t be true.
“Lady Freya.”
I walked past him without a word. Then, with deliberate motion, I pulled off his ink-black jacket and tossed it into the large trash bin at the side. Right in front of him.
Silence cracked. Gareth’s mouth opened slightly, a flash of something.
Was it confusion? Regret? Annoyance?
But it defintely crossed his face.
I didn’t care.
“Lady Freya,” Alwin, a Beta who had served the castle since my childhood, rushed forward, worry in his voice.
“What happens to insolent servants who gossip behind their masters?” I asked coldly.
“They… are punished, Lady Freya?”