Rebirth of the Phantom Empress

Chapter 9 - Web of Shadows

Selene wiped her damp palms against the coarse fabric of her faded blue dress as she knelt beside the fireplace in the dimly lit kitchen, poking at the dwindling embers with a metal rod. The low crackle of flames echoed in the stillness, casting flickering shadows that danced across the weathered stone walls, where remnants of past meals and the heat of countless fires were etched into the surface like a tapestry of their history.

Another day had passed under Lady Mirva's iron-fisted rule, and Selene was no longer simply enduring the oppressive atmosphere—she was meticulously planning her escape from this stifling existence.

Over the past week, Selene had devoted herself to observing the household's rhythms, quietly mapping out the daily routines of the weary servants and tuning into the hushed murmurs of discontent that vibrated through the air. The undercurrents of resentment against Mirva ran deep and festered beneath the surface like an untreated wound. While fear bound the servants to obedience, she sensed that fear alone was a fragile leash. If she could skillfully pull the right strings, she could unravel Mirva's tenuous control.

Today, the first string would be pulled.

A sharp, urgent knock at the kitchen door jolted her from her thoughts. Riven stepped inside, his eyes darting warily around the room before striding toward her with a furrowed brow. His face was unusually pale, and his habitual caution seemed heightened, drawing Selene's attention.

"She's in a foul mood today," he murmured, lowering his voice as if the very walls would carry her wrath.

Selene barely spared him a glance as she continued tending the fire, adjusting the logs to coax the embers back to life. "When is she not?" she replied absently.

Riven shifted his weight, anxiety etched across his features. "I mean worse than usual. Something happened this morning. She's been lashing out at everyone in her path."

Curiosity piqued, Selene tilted her head slightly. "What happened?"

"No one knows for certain," he whispered, glancing over his shoulder as if making sure the coast was clear. "But a messenger arrived early from town, and she was furious after reading the letter. Apparently, it was some kind of trouble regarding her shipments." He hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper as he added, "She threw a vase at one of the maids when she found out."

Selene hid her satisfaction behind a carefully composed expression. She had anticipated this reaction, having orchestrated events just the night before to ensure that a certain piece of troubling information reached the right ears. A critical supplier of Lady Mirva's had been accused of smuggling stolen goods. A scandal like that could deal a significant blow to Mirva's standing—not just financially, but socially among the influential circles she frequented. It was a small but strategic move, one that wouldn't directly implicate her, yet it was the first stone cast into the still waters of Mirva's fragile domain.

Judging by the simmering rage that emanated from Mirva, it seemed the ripples had already begun to form.

Riven shifted uncomfortably beside her. "Just be careful today. If she gets angry enough, she might take it out on you."

Selene met his concerned gaze with a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Let her try," she replied a hint of defiance in her tone.

**A Subtle Manipulation**

By midday, the tension in the estate had thickened like a storm cloud pregnant with rain. The servants moved cautiously, their footsteps hurried to avoid drawing attention, their heads bowed in submission. Yet Selene carried herself as if nothing had changed, her posture straight and confident.

She was waiting.

Finally, the long-anticipated opportunity arrived.

Lady Mirva stormed into the kitchen, her dress dishevelled and flowing around her like storm clouds, her face flushed with frustration. "Useless wretches!" she spat, her voice sharp enough to cut through the heavy air. "Everything is falling apart, and none of you can do a damn thing right!"

The maids and cooks flinched, scrambling away from her fiery gaze, but Selene remained calm, lowering her gaze just enough to draw Mirva's attention.

Mirva's sharp eyes landed on her, like a hawk spotting its prey. "You! Fetch me some tea. Now," she commanded, her tone brooking no argument.

Selene dipped her head in feigned submission. "Yes, my lady," she replied, moving to prepare the tea with deliberate calmness, all while keeping her ears open to the venomous mutterings of the woman standing before her. Mirva cursed loudly about "damned officials" who were meddling in her affairs and how certain "rats" needed to be dealt with swiftly.

As Selene carefully poured the steaming liquid into an ornate porcelain cup, the fragrant aroma of chamomile mingled with the remnants of soot that clung to the kitchen air. She turned, extending the cup with both hands, allowing the warmth to radiate between them.

"My lady," she said softly, her voice maintaining a tone of subservience yet rich with undercurrents of intrigue.

Mirva snatched the cup with impatience, barely sparing her a glance as she brought it to her lips. But just as she took the first sip, Selene hesitated, knowing the delicate game she was playing.

"I overheard something in the market," she murmured, her tone light but laced with intention. "Some merchants were whispering about how unpredictable these investigations have become. That no one knows who might be next."

Mirva froze mid-sip, her fingers tightening around the delicate porcelain, and a shadow of suspicion flickered across her features.

Selene quickly lowered her gaze again, masking the satisfaction that threatened to break free. "Forgive me, my lady. I didn't mean to speak out of turn."

Mirva's lips pressed into a thin line, and after a long, pregnant pause, she set the cup down on the table with a decisive thud. "What else did you hear?" she demanded, her tone suddenly sharp, betraying her growing interest.

Selene let a hint of hesitation flicker across her face before shaking her head, the picture of reluctance. "Only rumours, my lady. But… if something were to happen to the estate, I can only imagine some of the servants might speak out to save themselves," she ventured, letting the words dangle in the air.

She didn't need to say more—the implication hung heavy, cloaked in the weight of her suggestion.

Mirva's eyes darkened with suspicion, her gaze flickering toward the kitchen staff who were too tense to even breathe. Doubt had been effectively planted, and Selene understood well that doubt could be more destructive than open rebellion.

**The Next Step**

That evening, Selene sat among her fellow servants in the cramped quarters, feeling the palpable shift in the atmosphere. The other servants were whispering more than ever, trading anxious glances, their faces etched with uncertainty.

Mirva had summoned her steward for a private meeting after their encounter, no doubt gearing up to tighten her already iron-clad grip on the estate, seeking to root out any perceived threats among her own ranks.

Good, Selene mused with a flicker of satisfaction. Let her waste her energy chasing shadows.

Riven settled beside her, his demeanour more pensive than usual as he observed her closely. "You're playing a dangerous game," he murmured, the edge of apprehension evident in his voice.

Selene allowed a faint smile to grace her lips, her confidence unwavering. "A game only becomes dangerous when you don't know the rules," she replied, a sense of calm certainty wrapped around her words.

Riven exhaled, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "I don't know how this will end, Selene," he confessed, a flicker of worry crossing his features.