Marissa's pained voice had my gaze snapping back to hers. She rubbed her temple in frustration. "Gods, Tabitha, I don't know what to do." Her mouth quivered in distress as she hitched a shoulder in defeat, long loose hair swishing against the front of her black sheath dress.

Our gazes reluctantly swept to Sanela, who was flicking a hand over her dressing gown, trying to swipe off the fresh beads of wine that dripped down its silky fabric.

When my gaze slid back to Marissa, she was staring at me. She licked her lips nervously as she wrung her hands. Her mouth parted then abruptly shut into an indecisive line. She looked like she wanted to tell me something but was unsure if she should.

I waited patiently, while Sanela's mumbling and cursing, her anger at Romain refueling itself, filled the background.

Finally, Marissa stepped closer and spoke in a low voice, "This state she's in, I'm positive is all due to my grandfather, her father. While I was away this summer with my aunts, I heard them whispering between themselves. My grandfather, years ago, had an affair—"

"He did," a voice snapped behind us, the tone bitterly cold.

"Shit..." Marissa groaned under her breath, her eyes fluttering shut briefly as she rubbed the palm of her hand up her forehead.

Anxiety coiled beneath my skin as we turned to face Sanela.

She wobbled toward us, a drink in hand. "My father had an affair with a servant. A nobody," she snorted, rolling her glassy-drunk eyes. "He even had the audacity to marry the woman in secret. Some tacky ceremony out in the forest exchanging promises to one another. Promises that meant more to my father," she said, disbelief coloring her words as she flung an arm wide, "than those he'd given my mother in front of all the Houses and Master Sirro himself."

Marissa's eyes grew round and her mouth slackened. "He married her?"

Sanela's nostrils flared. She took one unsteady step after the other, coming closer and closer to where I stood until she was right in front of me. "I watched my mother fall apart over the years. She loved him and he didn't care. He didn't care about his true family, his real family—me and my sisters and brothers." She raised her drink to her mouth, staring coldly at me over its lip. "He married his servant whore and together they had a child. He stained our House, our family name, with a bastard child." She laughed into her wine, her breath clouding the glass. "That's who I was related to—a little servant boy."

Was—the word fell through me in horror.

Marissa was frozen in place, as was I.

I didn't know what to do or how to defuse Sanela's simmering anger. My role as a servant came to the fore, as natural to me as breathing air. I pinched the small vial clasped between Marissa's lax fingers and offered it to Sanela. "Here, Mrs. Deniaud, I have something that will help calm your nerves."

Sanela snarled and struck out at the vial with the back of her hand.

I flinched as it was batted free and careered across the room to hit the skirting board with a thunk. Sanela's elegant features twisted into an ugly sneer. "I don't want it, Tabitha. I don't want to remain silent and calm while my husband is fucking some servant like my father did." Her mouth pressed into a mocking smile as she pointed a finger at my face with the hand holding the wine. "You have your place and we have ours. Best you remember that."

Her shoulder knocked into Marissa, causing her to stumble back against the dresser, as she swiveled drunkenly around to stride past but not going too far. She took a long swill from her drink before leaning against the wall right beside where I stood. I inwardly shrank, cowering at the storm of malice brewing in her eyes.

A flinty gaze skated over my figure draped in expensive silk threaded with gold. It was the derogatory snorting noise she made at the back of her throat when she stared at my upturned palm still outstretched, that had mortification reddening my cheeks and thousands of tiny cuts shredding my soul. I wanted to run. I wanted to tear the dress off my back. I wanted my aunt and her warmth to shelter me.

Even in this room, wearing this dress, I stood out.

It wouldn't matter if extravagant jewelry dripped from my wrist or haute couture dresses swathed my figure, my work-worn hands would always give me away.

That's the only way she, or anyone from the upper ranks, would see me—as a servant pretending to be someone other than what she was.

Flustered with embarrassment, I snatched my hand back, bunching my fingers into the skirt by my thigh.

Unease trickled through my veins.

Sanela wasn't done. There was more to this and I knew it.

I knew Joann's sister and nephew had gone missing.

Sanela sloppily wiped her wine-glistening mouth with the back of her wrist. "My family raised prized pigs." She half-laughed through the words. "The Zamans and their prized pigs, that's what we're known for."

I swallowed hard.

She leaned a hand on the corner of the duchess as she lurched forward, closing the space between us. I felt timid and meek in the black shadow of her cold rage, terrified at the insanity shining in her eyes. Her voice grew soft and sinister. "Do you know pigs eat anything, Tabitha? Anything whatsoever you throw into their pen. They'll eat through flesh and bone and sinew and they'll eat and eat and eat until nothing is left." The force of her finger jabbing me in the chest made me swing back, a hand scrambling to steady myself on the dresser. The snakish smile curving her mouth had a numbing sensation falling through my limbs, my heartbeat stuttering. "That's how you get rid of someone you don't want to ever see again, without leaving a trace, without anyone knowing what you did."

"Momma?" Marissa whispered behind me. "You killed them?"

Sanela didn't answer. Instead, she huffed a chuckle before taking a sip of her wine. Her gaze glanced over my shoulder toward her daughter. "Your grandmother finally grew a backbone. She got him back. She made him pay for what he'd done, insulting her, us all, for raising another family in our very own home."

Marissa and I were deathly still.

Unable to move. Barely able to breathe. Powerless to tear ourselves away.

Sanela rotated the glass of wine between her fingers. "While my father was away from home on business, my mother arranged their transfer to another House. The day they were supposed to leave, she met them in the forest. It wasn't enough you see, her sending them away. Something snapped irrevocably. The other wife and child thought my father was going to meet them there to say goodbye, perhaps to reassure them he'd overturn what she'd gone and done behind his back—arrange a new placement for them in a new House." She smiled a ruthless, dispassionate smile. "My mother greeted them instead with a butcher's cleaver."

Bile churned in my stomach.

Acid tore strips off my throat.

The world began to spin around me, black dots dancing at the periphery of my vision as my mind caved in on itself.

Joann knew something terrible had happened to her sister and nephew.

They hadn't made a run for it and had been caught by a hunting party.

They'd been murdered before they'd even left the estate.

Sanela pushed back from the corner of the dresser, twisting to slump her spine against the wall. She stared straight ahead, her bloodshot eyes pulled further away with memory. "I was young but old enough to know what to do. How to make the mess go away. How to comfort her after the bloodshed destroyed her mind, and bring her back so soundly no one would suspect what she'd done."

Her head wove from side to side as she stared down at her arms, spreading them apart and holding them in a way as if she cradled a phantom body. "The servant woman was heavy." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "But her child was so light in my arms. Even dead he barely weighed anything." Her eyebrows slanted upward as she shook her head slightly as if bewildered by it all. "We shared the same mouth and chin... The shape of our eyes was different, but the color was the same. The exact shade of our father's." She made a humming noise, deep in thought. "There was blood everywhere. He was drenched in it." She raised her free hand, her fingers curled as if gripping the knife's handle. "I had to use the cleaver myself." She slashed downward, the motion exaggerated in her drunken state. She hacked away as if she were taking a body and reducing it down to pieces. "It was easy to make it seem as if the mother and child had run. Even easier to make their bodies disappear so no one would ever know." She snorted, her hand falling limply to her side. Straggly hair slid down her back as she tipped her head to look up at the ceiling. "The pigs ate well that night."

Nausea roiled and I clapped a hand to my mouth, gagging.

Gods, what would happen to Dolcie if Sanela discovered the truth? And worse, Dolcie was pregnant. What would that do to someone as unhinged as Sanela?

Sudden rage roughened Sanela's voice as she exploded in violence. "And my husband is doing the exact same thing to me!" She hurled the empty wine glass across the room. It smashed against the wall, shattering into tiny fragments. Wine splotched the embossed papering. Red seeped into its creases like blood beading a wound.

She whirled around, her face so full of wrath I shrank back, cringing under the insanity. Its might pummeled me down like a brutal tidal wave. "If I find her, Tabitha," she spat my name like filth. "Whomever Romain is fucking, whichever servant she is, I will find her and get rid of her." Dark eyes slit in suspicion. "Do you know who she is?"

I shook my head.

She grabbed my arm, yanking me forward and twisting painfully. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not...I'm not..." I breathed, terror coating the air.

Marissa lunged, shoving her elbow between us, and managed to separate us. She pushed me back and inserted herself in front of me, raising placating hands. "Momma, it's late, it's time for bed."

Sanela swayed on her feet, blinking dazedly. Her rage slipped from slack features with confusion. She lifted her hand above her eyes as if to use it as a sun visor and gaze into the distance. Except there was nothing but thick opulent curtains blocking the vista beyond.

Marissa offered her a trembling hand, her voice cracking. "You'll feel better tomorrow morning after a good night's sleep."

Sanela raised a hand to cup Marissa's cheek. "You're such a good girl," she slurred, with a messy smile.

I didn't know how I got to the side of Sanela's bed, nor did I feel the Egyptian cotton wisping against my palms like silken clouds as I took hold and pulled them aside along with the soft gray comforter.

Sanela leaned heavily against Marissa who guided her across the room to her bed. She flopped down, the mattress dipping beneath her weight. Tucking her feet up, she twisted around to slump against the great pile of fluffy pillows. "You're right," she said to Marissa who arranged the comforter up around her middle. "I'll just rest my eyes for a bit."

I stood shakily beside my friend, trying not to burst into tears or scream.

How was I ever going to look at Joann again without crumbling to her feet, knowing what had happened to her sister and nephew?

"I need to speak with Romain." The words drifted apart as Sanela's eyelids became heavy, too heavy to keep open. "I'll not allow him...to make...a fool of me." Her eyes finally shuttered, lips parting slightly as she fell asleep.

Marissa and I stood in the shadow-enshrouded bedroom, staring at Sanela with horror silencing our tongues.

What had Romain warned me last week?

My wife has a cruel nature beneath her refined surface.

He knew, or perhaps he suspected the madness and vileness that afflicted his wife.

I startled when Marissa spoke. "I'm sorry to have held you up. You'd better get going... The wedding." She gestured behind me toward the bedroom door.

The words hung in the air as I tried to decipher them.

Wrong, it was so wrong of her to be sounding so normal and acting so casual.

It seemed surreal to think that I'd be attending Dolcie's wedding after what I'd learned.

Though my mind remained on Sanela, my body reacted automatically. It was as if my limbs were acting on their own accord as I moved toward the bedroom door. I had a strange off-kilter sensation as if I was drifting through thick fog.

Marissa walked beside me, and she bent sideways, lowering her voice to whisper in my ear, "Momma's so drunk she won't remember any of this tomorrow morning, but please don't speak of this to anyone."

Looping a hand around hers, I squeezed in reassurance because it was all I could do. I wasn't sure I could speak. My bottom lip trembled like a leaf.

I couldn't quite grasp what Sanela had done, what she'd been part of.

How many other Houses had murdered their servants when we crossed the forbidden line?

Foreboding whispered down my spine.

What would House Crowther do to me if they discovered their son—their heir—was in a relationship with a servant?

Just as I'd breached the open doorway, Marissa grabbed my arm in the same spot Sanela had. I winced, my eyes flaring wide at the forcefulness of her grip, the fingernails digging into my flesh. She jerked hard and spun me around to face her. Darkness shadowed her sharp features and lent menace to her voice. "You'd tell me, right? If you knew who she is?"

I waited for the guilt to sour the back of my throat, but it never came. "Of course, I would."

It had been the easiest lie to tell.

I had to protect Dolcie and her baby.

Marissa furiously scanned my face looking for a hint of dishonesty, and I held my ground, my heart thumping wildly against my ribs, and blinked innocently back.

Slowly Marissa's sharp expression softened and she released me.

I stepped back in the strappy gold heels she'd given me, clenching the luxurious silk of the long skirt to lift it higher between trembling fingers, whirled around, and ran.