Chapter 229: Pretty girl (1)
The wing in which Serathine had politely exiled her was too quiet after dinner.
No soft footsteps in the hall, no clink of porcelain from the tea service, no piano echoing faintly from the drawing room. Just the kind that curled up in the corners and made her shiver from the thought of being watched.
Ophelia sat on the edge of her bed, her posture too straight to be comfortable, hands folded in her lap like she was still at the table. She hadn’t eaten much. She never did. Meals at House D’Argente were more lonely; even though Serathine was generous with her food and drinks, and she could have anything she wanted, Ophelia couldn’t let her and Misty’s work drift. She couldn’t gain weight and destroy what she had done until now.
That was what her mother used to say, wasn’t it? "Pretty girls eat carefully. Beautiful ones plan ahead."
Ophelia still chewed each bite like it might betray her.
She stared down at her lap, where the fabric of her skirt had creased from how tightly her hands were folded. Her nails pressed against her palm. Not hard. Not yet. But the urge itched like an old bruise beneath her skin.
She used to bite them until they bled.
Lavender-scented gloves had been Misty’s solution. Therapy appointments and distractions had been Serathine’s.
Neither worked. Not really.
Her eyes flicked toward the corner of the room where the velvet drapes hung still. No breeze, no sound. Just shadows.