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Cathilda tucks away a pile of towels in the closet when a faint clunk catches her attention. She stretches her arm as far back as she can and feels the cool glass of the bottle. As she grabs it, the contents slosh around, and the maid closes her eyes, sighing.
Hallariel had promised. Oh, not to Cathilda, and if she had, it wouldn’t sting like this. No, she’s failed her son again. The bottle is poured down the sink and Cathilda sweeps the room for more broken promises. She won’t tell Fabian. She’ll protect him like a real mother should.