Janet approached me quickly at my call, her face a mask of gentle, obedient service.
“Yes, my lady? How can I be of assistance?”
I watched her, noting the way she kept her gaze lowered. Just moments before, I’d seen her tracking Sardin with a wary, calculated intensity. *You’ve noticed,* I thought. *You know I’ve set him to watch you.*
But it didn't matter if she knew. My goal was to make her too busy to be a threat.
“There is much to be done, Janet,” I said, handing her a thick stack of ledgers. “Heard County has been neglected for too long. The previous supervisor died before my arrival, and the property is in shambles. I need someone I can trust to manage the internal staff, oversee the renovations, and handle the hiring of a new kitchen crew. You will be in charge of everything within the manor walls.”
Janet’s eyes widened. She looked at the pile of paperwork as if it were a physical weight.
“Me, alone, my lady?”
“For now, yes. Sardin and you are the only ones I can truly rely on.”
Heard County was a 'ghost estate'—a piece of land kept off the official Imperial registers. It was small, lacking in landmarks, and its residents lived a subsistence existence, but beneath the rocky soil lay the diamond mine that would one day make this the wealthiest province in the Empire.
I needed a stable foundation before the wealth arrived. I needed knights, I needed a functioning economy, and I needed the manor to be a fortress.
“I have assigned Sardin to the external security of the estate,” I continued. “You will handle the internal security and the household. It will be a heavy burden, but I know your capabilities are far beyond those of a mere maid.”
Janet sighed, a faint flicker of annoyance crossing her face before she bowed. “I understand, my lady. I will ensure you are not inconvenienced during your stay.”
*Good,* I thought. *Let her drown in laundry lists and staff disputes. She won't have time to send a single bird to the Archduke.*
***
Later that evening, the window to my study swung open. I didn't look up, but I did lower the hammer on the small, silver-plated pistol I kept in my lap.
“I told you to use the door, Sardin. One of these days, I’m going to shoot you out of habit.”
Sardin climbed into the room, a slight shiver running through him. “My apologies, my lady. Old habits die hard.”
“The recruitment?”
“Many applicants, ma’am. Knights from disgraced houses, a few apprentices from the Eastern Academy, and a fair number of veterans from the border wars. Most are green, but they have potential. The issue is leadership. None of them have the weight to be a captain. Do you intend to appoint Janet?”
I shook my head. “Janet stays in the manor where I can see her. No... I intend to give the leadership to someone I can actually trust with my life.”
I reached into my desk and pulled out a single, yellowed piece of parchment. It was the document proving my ownership of Sardin.
I held it over the candle flame.
Sardin’s gray eyes went wide. He watched in stunned silence as the fire consumed the paper, the ashes fluttering into the hearth.
“My lady... what are you doing?”
“I am freeing you, Sardin,” I said, looking him in the eye. “Not because you’ve served your time, but because I need a man, not a slave, to lead my knights. From this day forward, you are the Knight Commander of Heard County. You will be my shield, and the shield of my child.”
Sardin’s face went stiff, his expression becoming a mask of pure, agonizing shock.
“Why me?” he whispered. “I am a criminal... a commoner... a man who has lived in the dirt.”
“Because you are the only one who never looked away,” I said, my voice softening. “In my previous life—and in this one—you were the only person who stood by me when everyone else turned their backs. I have been stingy with my praise, Sardin. I’ve taken your loyalty for granted. I won't make that mistake again.”
Tears welled in Sardin’s eyes. He dropped to one knee, his head bowed so low it nearly touched the floor.
“I swear my life to you, Cornelia. Not as a slave, but as a man. I will be the wall that keeps the world away from you.”
***
Four and a half years passed in a blur of hard work and quiet joy.
I gave birth to Damian on a cold, winter night. The moment they placed him in my arms, I felt a piece of my soul click back into place. He was the same boy from my dreams—the same golden hair, the same vibrant purple eyes.
“I’ll protect you this time,” I whispered to the sleeping infant. “I promise.”
Damian grew up strong and healthy. He was a bright, curious child who filled the drafty halls of the Heard manor with laughter. Every first step, every bababbled word, every "Mummy" was a treasure I guarded more fiercely than the diamonds beneath the earth.
He was my mirror, my joy, and my reason for breathing.
One spring afternoon, as we were sitting in the garden, a three-year-old Damian ran up to me, his face flushed with excitement.
“Mummy! Mummy! I had the best dream!”
I smiled, brushing a lock of golden hair from his forehead. “Another unicorn adventure, my love?”
“No!” Damian said, jumping up and down. “I saw a man! A tall man with hair like mine! He was so pretty, Mummy! He came to find us, and he was playing hide and seek. He said he’s almost here!”
The smile froze on my face. A tall man. Blond hair. Searching.
The peace I had built for four years shattered in a single, cold heartbeat.
“What did he say, Damian?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
“He said, 'Found you',” Damian chirped, completely oblivious to the terror in my eyes. “He was smiling, Mummy. But his eyes were crying.”