Seyla's appearance in the night corridor of the Carter mansion indeed turned out to be unexpected — so unexpected that for a moment Remesis felt as if fate itself had decided to play a joke on her, throwing another surprise into this endless night.
Because of this, their tense conversation with Michel, which they had been having before, was interrupted, never having had time to reach any conclusion. Nevertheless, before Remesis could say anything or even blink, Michel reacted first.
He looked at the suddenly appeared maid with clear hostility, and a cold, appraising gleam froze in his eyes, seeing in her only a potential threat. It was as if at that moment he was considering how exactly to quietly and efficiently solve this problem — with one quick, silent movement, leaving no traces. His fingers twitched slightly, as if already preparing for action.
Nevertheless, noticing the sinister gleam in his eyes, Remesis spoke first, putting an end to his dangerous thoughts:
"It's alright. This is Seyla."
"...Seyla?" he repeated in confusion, his eyebrows drawing together over the bridge of his nose.
Remesis hesitated for a moment before answering.
"My maid," she said.
Michel was perplexed for a while. Of course, he did not know this maid's name. As a noble, he was not obligated to remember the names of the servants at all — for him, they were merely part of the interior. And yet, if his younger sister said she knew her, then it must be safe...?
He hesitated for a few more moments, his gaze darting between Seyla and Remesis. Then his shoulders finally relaxed, and he took half a step back, making room for the conversation.
Remesis, noticing this, calmly repeated her question, addressing the maid:
"Seyla, what are you doing here?" there was no reproach in her voice — only pure, genuine curiosity.
The chestnut-haired woman, who looked noticeably agitated — her fingers were trembling, and perspiration had appeared on her forehead — stepped forward.
"My lady, I..." she swallowed. "I just heard a strange noise in the house and decided to check what was happening. At first I thought I was imagining it, but then the noise repeated, and I... But... what are you doing here? At this hour? And... with my lord?" her gaze darted to Michel again, and genuine fear was evident in it.
Remesis sighed.
"An unpleasant situation occurred," she said. "I don't want to go into specifics right now. Believe me, you're better off not knowing."
"...A s-situation?" the maid repeated in a trembling voice, her face paling before Remesis's eyes.
At that moment, her gaze again fixed on Michel — on his disheveled appearance, on the dark circles under his eyes, on the tense line of his shoulders — and the woman grew even paler. Of course, Seyla, like the other servants of the Carter estate, knew about the situation in which the former heir of this family currently found himself.
Rumors spread through the mansion faster than fire, and even if one thing was officially announced, everyone knew the truth. To be more precise, at this moment Michel Carter was a hostage of his brother, but it was forbidden to speak of this aloud to anyone.
But then... What was happening here now? Why was he standing here, in the middle of the corridor, together with the young lady, who by all rights should be in her room?
"My lord... my lady... I...!" Seyla's voice became more and more agitated.
Although the woman was still unaware of the situation, she must have already understood that this situation was indeed complicated. If for no other reason than that Michel was here — where he should not be.
"Seyla," Remesis took a step towards her, her voice becoming softer. "Just promise me you won't tell anyone about this, alright?"
"...What?"
"We are about to leave now. And no one should know about it. If we are found — if they find out we were here..." she paused, letting the words settle in the air. "So, please... keep this a secret. For me."
After Remesis's sudden words, the woman's pupils dilated in shock, but only for a moment. Fear reflected in them, then understanding. After that, Seyla quickly pulled herself together and blinked, chasing away the hallucination.
"I... Of course!" she blurted out, her voice sounding louder than it should have, but she immediately pressed her palm to her mouth, frightened by her own volume. "You can count on me, my lady! I won't tell anyone! I swear by everything possible!"
Remesis sighed with relief. And for the first time in this long night, a shadow of a smile appeared on her face.
"Good," she said quietly. "I trust you."
"But it's night..." Seyla said worriedly, her eyebrows drawing together over the bridge of her nose. "Where exactly are you planning to go? There's not a soul in the city, all the inns are closed, and the streets are unsafe."
Remesis hesitated. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her nightgown — a nervous gesture she usually did not allow herself.
"I don't know yet..." she admitted. "But I'll think of something. I just need to get out of here as soon as possible. The sooner, the better."
Seyla was silent for only a few seconds, but those seconds seemed like an eternity. Her face tensely reflected an internal struggle — she was clearly thinking something over, weighing, hesitating.
And then...
"My lady, then... If you have nowhere to go right now, I can take you to my home!" she blurted out, a determined fire lighting up in her eyes.
"What?" Remesis was stunned and repeated, not believing her ears. "To your... home?"
"I know my home might be too wretched for you," the maid became embarrassed, a blush appearing on her cheeks. She lowered her gaze, unable to look at her lady. "It's just a little hovel on the outskirts, nothing worthy of a person of your standing. And yet... If this is the only option right now, I dare to offer it. Better that than wandering the night streets, full of all sorts of riffraff."
Seyla's offer indeed came as a surprise to Remesis. She looked at the maid, and a warm feeling grew in her chest. This woman, who was merely a servant, who was neither a relative nor a close friend, was offering her shelter and protection, risking her own position — and perhaps her life.
And yet... Did she even have time to hesitate in such a situation? Did she have a choice?
"Alright," after thinking for a very short time, Remesis nodded. "Thank you, Seyla. I... I won't forget this."
At that moment, Michel stared at her in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up.
"We're really going there?" he repeated, notes of doubt sounding in his voice. "To a servant's house?"
Remesis snorted.
"Do you have any other options at the moment?" she parried. "Would you prefer to go back to your closet? Or do you want to try your luck in the city, where you're surely being searched for?"
Michel pursed his lips, as if still doubting and pondering her words. His jaw tensed, and muscles twitched in his cheeks — a clear sign that pride and common sense were fighting within him. And then Remesis calmly said:
"If you don't want to, you don't have to. I'll just go alone."
"No...!" escaped him before he could think. "Who said I don't want to?"
There was indignation in his words, almost childish offense, but Remesis sensed that his tone was actually quiet — subdued, almost guilty. Michel shook his head, unable to meet her gaze. He still couldn't even look Remesis in the eyes after their conversation — after he had poured out everything that had accumulated in his soul over the long years.
"Alright. Then let's go together," she said.
After a while, Michel barely lifted his head. He only nodded briefly, indicating that he had made a decision.
"But how will we get out of here?" he muttered, looking around. "There are guards at the gates, aren't there... And not only at the main ones — at all exits, probably too. If they notice us..."
"It's alright," Seyla said confidently. "We can just use the back entrance."
"Back entrance?" Michel repeated, his eyebrows drawing together over the bridge of his nose again. He said it as if hearing of it for the first time — which, in fact, was the pure truth.
Seyla was slightly embarrassed when the young man said it in such a tone — as if the back entrance was something out of the ordinary. But, probably, this was normal for the heir of the family, who possessed everything and had previously had no reason to think about such things. He had never gone down to the kitchen, never spoken with the servants, never thought about how this house was actually arranged.
In the end, Seyla briefly explained the situation to them, trying to speak quietly and quickly.
In total, there were two ways to leave the territory of the Carter duchy. The first — as expected — was the main gate. They were intended directly for family members and guests. Ordinary servants were not supposed to enter or leave the estate through the main gate — it was considered a breach of etiquette, almost an insult.
Thus, on the estate grounds, there was also a so-called "back" spare exit. It was intended for servants who needed to go into the city for some reason of their own. It was a narrow passage, hidden behind the outbuildings, inconspicuous and modest. It was an exit used only by servants.
It was located at the back of the grounds, and even during the daytime, there was less security there than at the main gate — only a couple of guards. And at such a late hour, there was probably no one there at all — either they were all asleep, or they preferred not to freeze in the night wind.
So this was the only option they could use at the moment.
In the end, they decided to leave the duchy's territory using this very method — quickly, quietly, trying not to make unnecessary sounds.
On the other hand, when they set about executing the plan, it was indeed amusing to see Michel leaving the estate through the back entrance — sneaking among the storage crates, trying not to step in a puddle, and still maintaining the remnants of his dignity. Could he have ever thought before that he, the respected heir of the family, would ever have to go through something like this? That his proud feet, which had only ever stepped on marble floors and parquet, would touch the dirty backyard? Most likely not.
In any case, after leaving the duchy, they soon emerged into the city. The night air was cold and damp, burning their lungs and making them shiver. At such a late hour, the city streets were almost completely deserted — only rare shadows of passersby flickered in the distance, and stray dogs rummaged through trash heaps searching for food. They walked quickly through the streets, trying to stay in the shadows and avoid open spaces. And, as Seyla had said, it was not far to her house at all, as it was located in one of the quarters closest to the mansion.
"My husband and child are at home now," Seyla said quietly, lowering her voice so as not to attract attention. "But it's so late now that I think they are already asleep. We'll try not to wake anyone."
They walked in silence and cold for a while until they reached a certain place. The streets grew narrower, the houses more modest, and finally they stopped in front of a low building.
As Seyla had said, her house was indeed nearby.
It was a modest one-story house, built of wood darkened by time, with small barred windows and a crooked porch. A yellowed wreath of dried herbs hung near the door, and clay pots with flowers stood under the windows. They stopped near this house.
Seyla knocked on the door several times — and soon it opened with a long creak.
In the doorway stood a man with a sleepy appearance, rubbing his eyes with his fist like a small child. His hair was disheveled, an old worn robe was thrown over his shoulders, and an expression of complete bewilderment was frozen on his face.
"...Ah, dear?" he muttered, blinking. "Why did you come back so suddenly? You were supposed to be at the mansion until morning..." his voice was hoarse from sleep, and he couldn't seem to focus his gaze.
"Jonas, some urgent matter came up," Seyla spoke quickly, notes of anxiety evident in her voice. "I brought guests with me."
"What? Guests?" the man finally rubbed his eyes and looked at the figures standing behind his wife.
When he saw them — a tall man with noble but haggard features and a young woman in only a nightgown — he was taken aback. His mouth fell open, and he blinked several times, as if hoping the vision would disappear.
"What... Who are these people?" he asked, tension sounding in his voice.
"It's a long story," Seyla cut in, walking past her husband and gesturing for Remesis and Michel to follow her. "Right now they just need a place to spend the night. I'll explain everything tomorrow."
"What? Spend the night? In our house?" Jonas stepped back, letting them into the cramped hallway. "But we only have two rooms, and..."
Remesis was indeed embarrassed that they had to disturb strangers in the middle of the night. She felt awkward, almost ashamed — the duke's daughter barging into a simple maid's home like a fugitive criminal. But now there was no other choice. None at all.
In the end, since he could do nothing about his wife's insistence — the man, without even receiving proper explanations, had to step aside, letting the uninvited guests in.
When they entered the house, Seyla quickly and clearly assigned duties: she told her husband to arrange a sleeping place for Michel in the small living room, putting clean linen on the old sofa. And she herself took care of Remesis, understanding that her lady needed more comfort and privacy.
In the end, there were only a few rooms in this small house — a tiny kitchen, a cramped living room, the owners' bedroom, and the nursery. And Seyla led her into one of them, which was apparently her own bedroom, which she had given up for her lady.
It was a small and modest room with a minimum of furniture — an old wooden wardrobe, a simple table covered with an embroidered tablecloth, and an old creaky bed in the corner, covered with a worn but clean blanket. A pot of geraniums stood on the windowsill, and a faded picture of a flowering garden hung on the wall.
Guilt was reflected on the maid's face. She lowered her gaze and clasped her fingers in front of her.
"My lady, I'm sorry..." she whispered. "This is all I can offer you. I know it's not what you're used to, and that you deserve much more, but..."
"It's alright, thank you," Remesis gently interrupted her.
In truth, despite the luxury of her life in the northern castle over the past few years — silk sheets, marble floors, dozens of servants ready to fulfill her every whim — Remesis was not overly fastidious. She had never been as spoiled as her older sister Katrina, who could cry over a dress folded incorrectly. In the end, she still remembered the times when she had to sleep in an icy cave, wrapped in an old cloak, when her own breath was her only source of warmth.
Besides, she was certainly not going to, in her current situation, make any complaints to Seyla. This woman was risking everything to help her — her position, her safety, perhaps even her life. Remesis was not so stupid or ungrateful as to complain about a creaky bed or a worn blanket.
She simply nodded and thanked the maid once more, and soon the woman left to let her rest. Before leaving, Seyla lingered in the doorway, as if wanting to say something more, but then just shook her head and quietly closed the door behind her.
The girl lay down on the old bed, which creaked pitifully under her weight. She lay on her back, staring at the whitewashed ceiling.
Well... This was, obviously, the craziest night of her life.
She was also very tired — not only in body, but also in soul. Her eyelids grew heavy, her thoughts became tangled, turning into a shapeless fog.
The events of this day — Livius's betrayal, Michel's appearance, his confession, the escape from the mansion — all of it mixed into one solid, sticky nightmare from which she wanted to wake up.
Closing her eyes, despite all the events that had happened to her today, Remesis tried to fall asleep.