Tension hung thick in the dormitory, pressing down like an unspoken accusation. Cassie’s efficiency, once her shield to remain invisible among the others, had transformed into a glaring spotlight. Whispers grew sharper in her wake, conversations halting as she passed by.

Every action she took seemed to spark quiet scrutiny—whether it was the precision of her folded linens or the ease with which she completed her tasks. She could feel their eyes on her, some filled with curiosity, others with resentment, as though her competence alone disrupted the fragile balance of the group.

Cassie kept her expression neutral, but inside, a cold wariness coiled tighter with each passing day.

“She always gets it right,” one maid whispered as Cassie passed.

“Of course she does,” another replied, her tone cutting.

The air in the shared quarters buzzed with thinly veiled hostility. Cassie ignored it, her focus trained on completing her duties. But no matter how carefully she avoided confrontation, she could feel the resentment simmering beneath the surface, waiting to boil over.

Cassie stood in the linen closet, a needle poised between her fingers as she inspected a stack of blankets. The head maid’s voice had been explicit earlier that morning: each blanket needed to bear the palace’s emblem in the top corner, perfectly aligned.

As she unfolded the next blanket, her hands froze. The emblem was missing.

Her gaze swept over the other linens she had already prepared, searching for inconsistencies. Everything else was in order, but this single blanket, left conspicuously in the middle of the pile, had no emblem.

She didn’t need to turn around to know who was watching her. A flicker of movement in her periphery confirmed it—a maid lingering by the doorway, her arms crossed, her smirk barely concealed.

Cassie set the blanket down and reached for the small sewing kit she always carried. Her hands moved swiftly, threading the needle with a calm efficiency that belied the tension in the air. She worked in silence, stitching a spare emblem onto the fabric with steady, precise movements.

By the time the blanket was ready, the other maid had disappeared, her shadow no longer darkening the doorway. Cassie folded the blanket neatly and added it to the stack. She didn’t allow herself the luxury of satisfaction—just the certainty that her work would pass inspection.

The inspection came and went without incident. The head maid, tall and stern, strode down the line of maids, her sharp gaze scrutinizing every detail. When she reached Cassie’s pile, she paused, lifting the top blanket and running her fingers over the freshly sewn emblem.

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“Well done,” she said, nodding once. “As always.”

The praise was brief, but it was enough to draw murmurs from the other maids. Cassie caught the flicker of anger in the other maid’s expression—an emotion quickly masked but no less intense.

The days that followed were marked by small, calculated attempts to undermine her. A broom misplaced. Supplies running short in her assigned areas. Tools left conspicuously dirty after another maid’s shift. Cassie handled each inconvenience with a calm demeanor, denying her detractors the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

During meal breaks, the weight of isolation settled over her. The maids who once ignored her now glared or whispered, their conversations stopping abruptly when she entered the room.

She sat alone at the edge of the long dining table, her back to the wall, watching the dynamics play out around her. The maid from earlier sat with a group of younger maids, her voice carrying over the quiet hum of the room.

“She thinks she’s better than us,” the maid said, her tone dripping with mock sweetness.

Lila, seated a few spots away, glanced at Cassie, her expression wary. When the meal ended and the others dispersed, she approached, her steps hesitant but deliberate.

“You can’t let them push you too far,” Lila said quietly, leaning against the wall beside Cassie. “They’ll turn you into a target if you’re not careful.”

Cassie wiped her hands on a rag, her movements slow and measured. “I’m already a target,” she replied, her voice devoid of emotion.

Lila’s brow furrowed. “Isolation makes it worse. It’s easier to survive here if you find allies.”

“I don’t need allies.”

For a moment, Lila said nothing. Then she sighed, her tone softening. “Maybe. But it wouldn’t hurt to let someone in. Just think about it.”

Cassie didn’t answer, and Lila left her to the silence.

The laundry room was dim, its only light coming from a flickering lantern suspended near the ceiling. Cassie worked quickly, pressing linens beneath the heavy iron and stacking them neatly on the adjacent table.

The sound of footsteps drew her attention. She turned her head slightly, catching sight of another maid lingering near the doorway.

“Busy night?” the other maid said, her tone laced with false cheer.

Cassie didn’t respond.

The other maid stepped closer, her hand brushing against the edge of the table where the freshly pressed linens were stacked. A second later, a glass vial appeared in her hand, its contents black and viscous.

Before Cassie could react, the maid tipped the vial, spilling ink across the pristine white fabric.

Cassie’s movements stilled, her hands tightening on the iron’s handle.

“Oh no,” the maid said, feigning shock. “What a mess. You really should be more careful.”

Cassie set the iron down with deliberate slowness. The sound of its metal edge meeting the table was sharp, echoing in the small space.

The other maid opened her mouth to speak again, but Cassie’s gaze silenced her. It wasn’t anger that the maid saw—it was something colder, sharper, a warning wrapped in silence.

Without a word, Cassie picked up a clean cloth and began wiping the ink from the table. Her movements were precise, unhurried. She retrieved another stack of linens from the shelf, replacing the ruined ones without pause.

The other maid shifted uncomfortably, the weight of Cassie’s unflinching stare pressing against her like a physical force.

“You’re not even going to defend yourself?” the maid finally asked, her voice faltering.

Cassie’s hands stilled for a moment. Then she straightened, her expression unreadable.

“I don’t need to,” she said quietly.

The other maid’s confidence wavered, and she backed away, her steps hurried as she left the room.