Haylee Harrington POV:
After issuing her command, Matron Thorne leaned against the shadowed doorway, a silent, statue-like observer.
The girls immediately scrambled for the buckets and rags, each one desperate to appear eager.
I didn't join the fray. Instead, I calmly scanned the room and spotted a smaller, overlooked bucket and a tattered but relatively clean cloth in the corner. The cloth was worn thin at the edges, but it had been rinsed clean—someone had used it before and left it to dry. That meant it was less likely to be missed.
I picked up my tools and began to scrub the section of floor nearest to me. My movements weren't fast, but they were steady, methodical, ensuring every inch of stone was wiped clean. I was aiming for quiet competence, not attention.
Tessa, the girl who had been punished yesterday, was brought back in. Her face was chalk-white, her eyes filled with a venomous resentment. She attacked the floor with a rough, angry energy.
Cora, the quiet girl who had shared her bread with me during the journey, leaned close to whisper, "Be careful of Tessa. I think she hates you."
"Thanks, I will," I murmured back, not looking up. "You just focus. Don't give them a reason to notice you."
Time passed in a haze of silence and the sloshing of water. The intense labor began to wear on the other girls, many of whom were clearly not used to such work. I could hear them breathing harder, the rhythm of their scrubbing slowing.
Suddenly, as Tessa passed by me, she let out a sharp cry of "Ah!" and her foot "slipped."
The entire bucket of filthy water overturned.
Cold, foul-smelling liquid splashed across the floor, soaking the hem of my tunic and, more importantly, ruining the large patch of flagstone I had just finished cleaning.
Every girl froze, their eyes wide with terror. Matron Thorne's icy gaze shot in our direction.
Before anyone could react, Tessa pointed a trembling finger at me and shrieked, "It was her! She tripped me! Matron, she did it on purpose!"
My stomach plummeted, but I kept my face a perfect mask of calm. I slowly straightened up, set down my rag, and lowered my head, saying nothing.
In this world, a slave's defense was the most worthless thing imaginable. Any argument could be seen as defiance. I chose to follow the rules—await the master's judgment.
Cora opened her mouth to speak for me, but I shot her a warning look. Dragging her down with me would be foolish.
The other slaves started whispering. Some looked at me with pity, others with a cruel flicker of satisfaction. They all assumed I was doomed.
A girl named Lena, who seemed to be a source of information, muttered to her neighbor, "It's over for her. Ruining the floor, disrespecting a superior—those are both serious offenses."
Seeing my silence, Tessa must have thought I was afraid. Her accusations grew more frantic and tearful. "I was just trying to work quickly, and she got jealous! She stuck her foot out—"
The contrast between my quiet stillness and her noisy hysteria was stark. I could feel Matron Thorne's gaze on me, no longer dismissive, but sharp and analytical.
She began to walk toward us, her unhurried steps echoing in the silent room. The soft thud, thud of her staff on the stone floor was a drumbeat counting down to a verdict.
She didn't look at Tessa first. She stopped in front of me, her eyes dropping to my soaked tunic hem and then to my clean hands.
Then she looked at Tessa. Tessa's tunic was dry, but her hands were caked with grime and dirty water.
"You say she tripped you?" Matron Thorne finally spoke, her voice flat and emotionless.
"Yes, Matron!" Tessa answered eagerly.
Matron Thorne walked slowly to the center of the spill, using the tip of her staff to poke at the puddle on the floor.
She pointed in one direction. "The water spread from here."
Then she pointed in another. "And she was kneeling there, scrubbing the floor. For her to trip you, she would have had to teleport behind you."
Her logic was as cold and sharp as a blade. The blood drained from Tessa's face.
"I... I..." Tessa stammered, starting to tremble.
"Lying. Falsely accusing a fellow slave. Wasting cleaning water. Delaying everyone's work." With each charge Matron Thorne listed, Tessa's face grew another shade paler.
I remained silent, head bowed, as if none of it had anything to do with me.
Matron Thorne's gaze fell on me again, and this time, I saw a flicker of something I couldn't quite name. It looked almost like approval.
"You," she said to me. "What is your number?"
Only then did I look up, my voice soft but clear. "I have not been assigned a number, Matron."
Matron Thorne stared at me, as if waiting for something more. The air in the room felt solid.
