The Debt Of Fate

"Don't twist my words," Leah said, regaining her composure. She knew that if her words spread, the Duchess would not spare her, let alone the Duke.

"Then what do you mean?" Grater asked. Leah realized she couldn't make things difficult for Anastasia; doing so might end up backfiring on her. After all, if she said the timing was wrong, it would imply she was causing unnecessary trouble. Any other excuse would suggest that the Duke's family was not peaceful. Without another word, she snatched the bottle from Anastasia.

"I don't dare keep my lady waiting," Leah said hurriedly and rushed off as though she feared Grater would continue questioning her.

"You shouldn't have gotten yourself involved," Anastasia said, concerned for Grater. She knew Leah was petty. Although she had run away today, she would certainly look for an opportunity to retaliate.

"You're welcome," Grater replied with a smile. She knew Anastasia was worried for her. "This old lady knows her limits," she added, hoping to ease her concern.

"Thank you," Anastasia said softly.

Grater nodded. "You should smile more. Use the spices when you bathe. You're turning eighteen soon; it's time to take care of yourself," she advised.

Anastasia nodded. She understood that Grater was referring to the contents of the pouch she had given her earlier.

"Thank you," Anastasia said, her gratitude evident. She had prepared her own baths ever since her mother's death and had not added any fragrance to them. No one else would prepare it for her, and she hadn't found the time to do it herself.

"There's only enough for one day. Pick more from under the stone tomorrow," Grater added. She was aware of Leah's habit of searching Anastasia's room and taking anything valuable.

Grater did not want Leah to take advantage of her.

"Thank you," Anastasia said with a small smile as she returned to her courtyard. Being the daughter of a mistress, she did not live in the main building.

...

When Anastasia reached her chamber, she noticed her bath was already prepared. She frowned, knowing that Rosa must have arranged it. She worried that Rosa's kind gesture might land her in trouble, leaving Anastasia without any allies in the residence.

Despite her concerns, Anastasia was moved by Rosa's kindness. She hurried to take her bath, grateful she didn't have to fetch the water herself. Waking up late that morning would have made her even later.

Perhaps God did not hate her entirely, as a few people still cared for her. After bathing, she dressed and glanced out the window. She realized she would be late for class if she had to go to the kitchen for food.

Although she wasn't overly concerned about falling behind in her studies, she preferred staying in her room if given the choice.

The Duke's residence housed five children—three sons and two daughters. The Duchess had birthed four of them, leaving Anastasia alone.

Anastasia disliked attending class with her half-sister. The teachers spent most of the class praising Elisabeth, which made the experience unbearable.

Despite her reluctance, Anastasia decided to attend. She knew that skipping class would only please the Duchess, who would likely assign her menial tasks under the sun to darken her complexion. She could not give herself away to do more housework.

"I'll just go to class. I can't stand the nagging," Anastasia resolved, knowing that going to the kitchen would only invite trouble from the women who worked there.

With few clothes to her name, she feared her dress might get stained in the kitchen. Without anything decent to wear, she would face Miss Brice's disdainful gaze for hours.

…

"Sister," a young lady greeted as Anastasia entered the classroom. Elisabeth, sitting gracefully, wore a kind smile, her demeanor gentle and innocent.

"Elisabeth," Anastasia replied coolly. She could never bring herself to call her "sister" when they were alone. She had fallen victim to Elisabeth's schemes too often to trust her false kindness.

Elisabeth maintained her gentle smile, unfazed by Anastasia's indifference. Anastasia ignored her and took a seat. In Nixet, males and females were educated separately, so only the two daughters of the Duke attended the class together.

Shortly after they settled in, a woman in her mid-fifties entered. She carried herself with a scholarly air, her back straight and her demeanor refined. Her well-maintained appearance suggested she had been a great beauty in her youth.

"Good morning, Miss Brice," the sisters said in unison, standing with their backs straight and their heads slightly bowed in respect.

"Sit," Miss Brice instructed as she took her seat. "Lady Elisabeth, would you like to share your insight on the assignment?" she asked warmly, her gaze that of a teacher admiring her best student.

"Yes," Elisabeth replied, adjusting her posture before reciting the poem The Joy of Motherhood.

"Motherhood is a blessing that every woman with good fortune receives..." Her voice was smooth and melodic, the words flowing effortlessly.

After reciting the poem, she gave her insight. Miss Brice listened with a satisfied smile, her approval evident.

"You are so talented. You should consider writing a poem," Miss Brice praised.

"Lady Anastasia," Miss Brice called next. Her expression turned cold, and although she remained professional, disdain lingered in her tone. "I suppose you managed to study your assignment this time?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I suppose you had time to study your assignment this time?" Miss Brice asked, raising her eyebrows.

"A bit," Anastasia replied calmly, showing no anxiety. Her composed demeanor irritated Miss Brice, but the teacher held her frustration in check.

"Then go on and recite the poem. If you can remember the words correctly, I might finally feel like a proud teacher," Miss Brice said, muttering the last part under her breath. However, Anastasia, who had been watching her intently, easily read her lips.

Anastasia was unfazed by the comment. Her mother had taught her countless songs and poems. In fact, if she wanted, she could make her voice more pleasant than Elisabeth's. But since the age of six, her mother had instructed her to hide her talents.

When she once asked why, her mother had replied, "We all have our stage. When you find yourself on someone else's stage, never steal their light unless you have enough power to own it."

At the time, Anastasia hadn't understood, but now, with her mother gone, the lesson was painfully clear.

The Duke's household belonged to the Duchess and her children. It was their stage, where they could shine freely. If Anastasia outshone Elisabeth in any way, she would only invite trouble. The more she acted foolishly, the better her chances of survival.