Mated to the Mad Lord-Chapter 44: A lie?

After gaining Cain’s permission, Violet wasted no time stepping out of his room and leaving his wing of the mansion entirely.

Rane was dead—a fact she refused to dwell on. Returning to the servants’ quarters wasn’t an option. Breakfast was over, leaving her with only one place to go: the servant lectures she’d never attended before.

She made her way to the servant hall, stepping in gingerly and staying close to the walls, hoping to remain unnoticed. Her hope was immediately dashed as all eyes turned to her the moment she entered.

At first, the expressions she met were curious. Then, they shifted to anger and annoyance. Conversations died as groups of servants moved away from her, their murmurs rising loud enough for her to hear.

"He’s the reason Rane’s dead, isn’t he?"

"Isn’t he the Lord’s pet? I heard he does... favors for the Lord. That’s why he’s still alive!"

"Look at him. That pale skin, those creepy eyes... maybe he cursed the Lord with his blood!"

Each accusation grew more absurd than the last, but the hostility in their voices was unmistakable.

"How dare he show his face here? Shameless."

"I can’t imagine how Rane’s brother must feel, knowing this scrawny thing is the cause of his death."

Violet tried to focus on the podium at the front of the room, waiting for the speaker to arrive, but the tension in the air was suffocating. It worsened when a group of servants approached her, one sitting directly behind her and jamming his foot into her chair.

"Something stinks in here," the man declared loudly, shoving his foot against her seat again. "Something that should just go ahead and die."

Violet’s patience snapped. She stood, turning to glare at him. "I didn’t kill Rane," she said firmly, her eyes locked on his face.

The man smirked, his disdain obvious. "So, you’re saying you had nothing to do with his death?"

Her hesitation was brief, but it was enough for him to pounce. He jumped to his feet and spat near her shoes, missing by an inch. "You already eat with the Lord. You’ve got no business in the servant hall."

Another voice chimed in from the crowd. "You’d better listen to Kanan. It’s bad enough you got his brother killed."

The pieces clicked together, and Violet realized the source of the open hostility. Kanan was Rane’s brother, and his anger was as much grief as it was resentment.

"I didn’t kill your brother!" she repeated, her tone sharper this time. Her gaze fixed on him as she added a warning, her voice low and steady. "It would be wise for you to back off. The last time someone tried something like this, the Lord snapped their neck."

The room fell into an uneasy silence, her words a stark reminder of Cain’s brutality. She didn’t care what they called her—the Lord’s pet, his plaything—but she wasn’t about to let herself become their next target.

Rane deserved what happened to him, she told herself firmly, refusing to let guilt take root.

Kanan’s face twisted with anger, his eyes reddening as he took a step closer. "Is that a threat?"

Violet stood her ground. "No. It’s a warning."

Before the tension could escalate further, the sound of the door flinging open drew everyone’s attention. A man strode onto the podium, a book tucked under his arm, his gaze sweeping across the room with thinly veiled disdain. His uniform was that of a servant but the emblem attached to it, set him apart, enough to show the authority he had over them.

Kanan and his group scrambled back to their seats, and Violet returned to hers. The row was empty, save for her—until a young man with curly black hair and striking green eyes approached. He sat down next to her without hesitation, offering her an easy smile.

Violet nodded in return, her expression wary. She couldn’t help but wonder why he’d chosen to sit beside her, given the rumors swirling around.

The lecture began, and the speaker launched into the topic with little preamble. "Today, we’ll discuss the origins of werewolves and vampires."

The subject was interesting enough, but Violet struggled to focus. It wasn’t until the speaker shifted to their weaknesses and powers that her attention sharpened.

"Werewolves can shift at any time and are born through bloodlines," he explained, "but shifters—those who drank the blood of werewolves at the point of death—can only shift under a full moon or after spilling their blood. Shifters are more monstrous, uncontrollably aggressive. They kill indiscriminately, and some lose their ability to return to human form, becoming true animals."

He paused before continuing, his tone brisk. "Vampires, or Reds, are divided into Pure-bloods and Turned Reds. Pure-bloods can walk in sunlight and often possess unique bloodline abilities. Turned Reds, however, are vulnerable to sunlight and require more blood to survive.

"As for weaknesses, werewolves are vulnerable to pure silver, while Reds can be killed with a blessed stake through the heart. For Pure-bloods, sunlight may only burn them, but a stake is always fatal."

The speaker’s disdain for the audience was evident in his hurried tone. "Of course, if any of you encounter them, you’ll die. They’re faster, stronger, and far deadlier than you. We’ve already covered how to identify them, so I won’t waste time repeating myself."

He flipped the book shut. "Next time, we’ll discuss witches. They’re humans who can wield lost magic, identifiable by their purple eyes. This trait is hereditary and passes only through bloodlines. We’ll delve deeper into this in the next lecture. You’re dismissed."

With that, he left the podium, issuing a few parting warnings before disappearing.

The hall buzzed with conversation as the servants began whispering excitedly among themselves. Violet, however, was too stunned to join them.

Purple eyes...

Her fingers instinctively brushed against her face, her mind racing. She’d always thought her unusual eye color was just an odd family trait—something inherited from her grandparents. But now, she couldn’t ignore the implications.

Does that mean...

The idea struck her like a bolt of lightning. Could I be a witch?

It was absurd. Impossible. But as she sat there, the realization refused to be dismissed.

How could this be true?

Lost in thought, Violet barely noticed the world around her. She was too consumed by the terrifying possibility that everything she knew about herself might be a lie.