Rymora on the other hand didn’t hesitate to head back into her room. She was still pissed at Aria but refused to dwell on it even as she went to eat in the servant’s food hall first before heading to her room.
Her steps were firm, not hurried but filled with a silent, simring energy. The anger still humd low in her chest, but she was used to this by now—used to swallowing it, letting it burn inside rather than explode out. She had no ti for childish outbursts, not when every breath she took in Zyren’s castle was watched, judged, and calculated. Aria could stew in her emotions. Rymora chose control.
The food was nice but nowhere as special as what she saw on the lord’s tables but Rymora didn’t mind. She knew what she was in Zyren’s castle to do.
She was a spy and even if she wasn’t she still wouldn’t have had any rights whatsoever to eat at his table.
The stew was warm, the bread a little stale, the at tough but flavorful. She ate quickly, efficiently, the way soone who wasn’t there for pleasure would eat. It wasn’t about the taste. It was about routine, about pretending she was nothing more than one of them. Another silent servant blending into the walls, unnoticed.
Returning her empty places to the counter, Rymora had just turned around to head to her room when she t Martha, a maid she was familiar with who worked on the kitchen.
A major reason why Rymora had gone ahead to befriend her more than others.
"Rye!" Martha bead at her rushing towards her with her hands outstretched and a wild grin on her face as she moved closer dashing right into Rymora’s path.
Martha always greeted her like this—like they’d grown up side by side in so small village and were now reunited after years apart. Her voice was always just a little too loud, her cheerfulness just a little too real. But Rymora didn’t mind it. In fact, she’d chosen Martha for that very reason. Friendly people talked more. And the more they talked, the more Rymora learned.
"It’s been a while! I figured you would co over yesterday but I was surprised when you didn’t!" She said to her even as Rye nodded her head and smiled back with great familiarity.
A thankful expression on her face, one she had been able to easily finesse through the years without any problems.
It was a mask she wore well. That soft smile, the gentle tilt of her head, the sparkle in her eyes that hinted at warm affection—it was all practice. A mimicry of innocence and gratitude. And it worked. Always.
To the other maids she couldn’t speak or write which ant that they were usually more friendly to her and even when she didn’t respond they took her smile as a sign of goodwill.
They called her quiet, sweet, reserved. They pitied her, and in their pity, they overlooked her. They didn’t see the way she watched, the way her eyes never missed a single thing.
"Would you be coming today?" She asked Rye who instantly shook her head to show that she wouldn’t even as she stepped closer and pulled her closer.
There was warmth in the gesture—carefully calculated warmth. She didn’t want Martha lingering here in the open where too many ears might catch bits of conversation. Rymora always made sure they spoke away from crowds.
Signifying her intention to lead Martha out of the food hall, sothing Martha didn’t seem to be against as she allowed herself to be led with a hint of excitent on her face.
She always liked a good secret.
Beyond surprised when instead of heading to her usual room Rymora headed sowhere else until they got to a room that was much nicer than the one she previously had before.
Martha’s eyes widened with every step. The halls they passed were usually off-limits to lower-ranked servants. The lamps burned brighter here, the floors cleaner, and the silence was heavier.
Martha was taken aback but Rymora didn’t dwell on it as she went ahead to enter her room even as Martha followed behind her marveling at the room which was way better than Martha and Rymora’s previous room.
The bed was larger, the sheets softer, the curtains thick and lush. A small chandelier cast golden shadows on the ceiling. There was even a basin with clean water set beside a polished mirror. Martha turned in a slow circle, her mouth open.
Still Rymora had returned to her room to take a rest and shower and intended to do just that when she dug into her pocket and touched the pouch Clay had given Aria.
The mont her fingers brushed the pouch’s surface, her brows twitched. It was small—unremarkable in shape—but sothing about it felt too... clean. It slled nice and the contents slled just as sweet as Rymora raised the pouch and held it up to her nose taking a long sniff before she moved to place it on the table.
She was supposed to toss it but since the best place was the main trash area, Rymora decided to wait, placing the pouch on the table as she stripped off her clothes in. Preparation to hop into the shower.
She peeled the fabric from her arms, letting the tension of the day slowly fall away with each layer. Her back ached, her shoulders stiff. She could already easily imagine the steam from the water as she stepped into the tub. A luxury she wasn’t used to but was otherwise prepared to enjoy.
But it was at that mont that Martha dashed forward with a surprised look in her eyes, picking up the pouch that Rymora had placed on the table with a grin on her face.
"What’s this?" She excitedly asked. "it slls nice!" Picking it up and opening it even as she picked up a seed and tossed it in her mouth before Rymora could fully open—
"Wait—!" Rymora’s voice almost broke through instinctively, but she caught herself just in ti, her jaw snapping shut in silent frustration.
She was mute!! If Martha found out that she could speak then she might as well have announced it to everyone else herself.
Too late.
Martha had already chewed once, then twice. Her eyes lit up even more, and she turned toward Rymora, utterly unaware of the tension snapping across the air like a drawn bowstring.
"It’s sweet," she said through a small laugh, "tastes kind of like honey, but better!"
Rymora’s hands froze in midair. Her bare shoulders stiffened as a quiet curse thundered inside her head. She hadn’t wanted to open the pouch. She hadn’t even wanted to touch it. Her whole plan had been to dump it. Erase it. And now—
Now Martha had eaten one of the seeds.
Rymora’s eyes narrowed, her thoughts racing. That seed was ant for Aria. It wasn’t ant for anyone else. Clay had said they were safe but he wasn’t here. And there were too many unknowns.
Rymora didn’t trust Clay but still the last thing she expected was for him to try and hurt Aria. Even he himself couldn’t be that brave.
She wrapped a towel hastily around herself and took a slow, steady step forward. Her face was still calm, still smiling, but her eyes were sharp as glass.
"Where... did you find this?" Martha asked, holding the pouch to her nose again, sniffing it with the wide-eyed curiosity of a child in a sweetshop. She picked another seed and rolled it between her fingers.
Rymora reached out and gently took the pouch from her hands with practiced ease, placing it back on the table, closer to her side this ti. Her smile never faltered.
Martha didn’t seem to notice the slight shift in energy, the stiff way Rymora’s fingers had tightened just a bit too much. The girl was too thrilled by the taste and by the room, too distracted to think anything was wrong.
"I could sneak you a cup of tea later," Martha offered, already bouncing on her heels. "To match that sweet little treat of yours. I didn’t think seeds could taste this good. Way better than anything I’ve seen in our kitchen..."
Rymora gave her a nod, then stepped back toward the bathroom with the towel still wrapped tightly around her. But inside, her mind wasn’t quiet. Her pulse beat fast at her temple. Her jaw was clenched.
Martha’s smile was still wide, but a subtle redness had begun to touch her cheeks. Rymora noticed instantly. The seed was working. But whether that ant danger or not—she didn’t know.
Yet.
And until she did, Martha wasn’t leaving this room even though she had no idea how to keep her there as she heard her continue to speak.
"Where did you get it from?" Martha insisted with wide and excited eyes that showed nothing but absolute greed.
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