Iris's POV
Before my head could process what was going on, the door to the room was shoved open again. Maris, the chief maid, stormed in, her face twisted in a scowl that made her look even more serious than usual. Her eyes darted between me and Amelia and then snapped.
"Here you are!" Maris barked. "I've been searching high and low for you both, and here you are, lounging about like you've got no duties!" Her hands are planted on her hips. "Iris, why haven't you washed the dishes? You think you're above your work now?"
My work? I'm off duty today. My arms still ached from scrubbing Cade's shirts earlier and I don't care anyways. I was serving the punishments and I don't regret it. "It's not my duty day today to wash the dishes," I said. "You know that, Maris. The roster says it's someone else's turn."
Her brows shot up, knitting together in disbelief, as if I'd just spat in her face. "Don't you dare talk back to me," she snapped, taking a step closer and the veins in her neck pulsed with barely contained rage. "You'll do as you're told, or you'll regret it. Now get to the kitchen!"
I stood rooted to the spot without flinching by her words. The injustice of it all burned in my chest. Inside my head, Lyra's voice growled, her voice feeling my head. "You can't do that. Let her try her worst!"
Her words sparked something in me as I took a step forward, squaring my shoulders, and met Maris's glare head-on. "Whoever's on duty should wash the dishes," I said. "Not me." I added.
Maris's eyes widened, her mouth falling open for a split second before her expression hardened into something venomous. "How dare you?" she hissed, lunging forward. Before I could react, her hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of my hair. Pain seared through my scalp as she yanked me toward her, her other hand raised to give me a dirty slap. But then, Amelia's voice came.
"I'll help her!" She said, stepping forward, her hands outstretched as if she could physically pull me from Maris's grasp.
Maris's head whipped toward Amelia, her eyes blazing. "Step back, girl!" she snarled. "Unless you want to be punished alongside her!"
Amelia still had deaf ears. "I don't mind," she said. She took another step closer, but one of the pack guards who had approached the doorway moved to block her path.
It was too late. Maris's grip on my hair tightened, and she began dragging me out of the room. My feet scrambled against the rough wooden floor, the force burning my soles as I struggled to keep up. My hands flew to her wrist, trying to loosen her hold, but to no avail. Amelia's protests faded behind me as the guard held her back, and soon, we reached the kitchen.
Maris shoved me inside with such force that I stumbled, my hands hitting the cold stone floor. Pain shot through my palms as it scrubbed the ground, causing me slight injury. In pain, I gritted my teeth, pushing myself to my knees, and glared up at her. She stood in the doorway. Her shapeless figure covered the space, her k-legs, bowed, making her look like a vengeful scarecrow. Wickedness was etched into every line of her face, from the deep furrows in her brow to the cruel twist of her mouth down to her red blood cell. I wasn't a doctor but I could see her wickedness running through her veins!
Everyone in the Warborn pack knew Maris's story. She was Alpha Darius's senior sister. Years ago, her husband had cast her out, unable to endure her wicked and mannerless nature. Since then, she'd grown even uglier, not just in appearance, but in spirit. Her once beautiful skin had dulled with age, her hair now a brittle white, and her heart had hardened even more. Maybe as a result of her frustration of not having a husband or kids at age 60. How will the moon goddess even treat her right when all she has always done was treat all the maids like trash, especially me. Dear moon goddess, I pray she doesn't die a happy death. Wicked, heartless and shapeless monkey.
Her voice broke the silence again.
"Wash them," Maris ordered, gesturing toward the sink. It was overflowing with plates, some crusted with dried food, others gleaming as if they'd already been cleaned. There were a lot of them. The sight made my stomach twist. "Every single one. And don't you dare leave a speck."
She turned on her heel and stormed out as the kitchen door slammed shut behind her, leaving me alone in the stifling silence. I pushed myself to my feet, wincing as my scraped hands throbbed. Approaching the sink, I stared at the chaotic pile. Among the mess were the pack elders' personal plates, each one of the plates distinct and precious. And then there was Alpha Darius's personal plate too, a rare piece of glazed ceramic with a deep blue wolf emblem in the center. It was a symbol of his authority, entrusted to only Maris to wash and protect. That duty was hers alone, assigned by Darius himself, and yet here I was, forced to handle what she'd neglected.
Anger surged through me. 'If this is how she want it,' I thought, I'll make sure she regrets it. Lyra's growl rumbled in my head, egging me on. I reached for Elder Thalia's plate first and with a deliberate flick of my wrist, I let it slip, and it shattered against the floor with a satisfying crash. Shards of porcelain scattered like stars across the kitchen. Next was Rowan's plate. I smashed it against the edge of the sink, the sound echoing like a gunshot. One by one, I selected the elders' plates. Finally, I lifted Alpha Darius's plate, its blue wolf emblem glinting as I hurled it to the ground, watching it break into jagged pieces.
The kitchen was a graveyard of broken dishes. I stood there, chest heaving, not from fear but from the rush of standing up to Maris's cruelty. Let her explain this to Darius. Let her face the consequences of shirking her duties.
"Iris!"
Suddenly, a cold, masculine voice called me from the behind. Startled, I turned back to the voice, only to find Zane leaning against the far wall, one leg bent and resting against the wall beside the kitchen door, his arms crossed over his chest and his cold eyes pinned me in place.