I believed the truth would speak for itself. I never bothered to defend my honor.
Until the day I finally completed the painting I had worked on for two years.
I was about to have it properly mounted and preserved. I stepped away for just a moment.
When I returned, it was covered in ink.
Lily stood nearby, a vial of wolfsbane extract clutched in her delicate fingers, her expression radiating smug satisfaction.
"Two full cycles of the moon you devoted to that piece. Let us see how you will flaunt your talents before Alaric now."
Rage surged through my veins like wildfire. My hand moved before conscious thought could intervene, striking her cheek with a sharp crack that echoed through the ruined studio.
"You have spent months spreading whispers that I treat you as a lowly servant," I said, my voice cold as winter frost. "Very well. For the next three days, you shall truly know what that means. You will clean every corner of my gallery until it gleams like moonlight on fresh snow."
But the moment those words escaped my lips, the heavy oak door crashed open.