The Maiden of Wellenberg

CHAPTER ONE

SOLD.

Lilac Wren found comfort in her grandmother's cottage at the edge of Wellenberg. The air smelled of lavender and rosemary, mixed with the warm scent of freshly baked bread from the hearth.

With each passing day, Lilac took care of the garden and looked after her aging grandparents. She felt more and more comfortable in her simple life.

The world outside the cottage felt far away and complicated, while inside, she found peace, stability, and love.

Her grandmother was a fragile woman with silvery hair and gentle hands. She had spent the morning baking and preparing their lunch.

Lilac had helped her with the chores, sweeping the kitchen and sorting the herbs that grew in excess around their garden.

The morning sun streamed through the cottage's open window, casting warm, golden rays onto the worn wooden floors, and the rhythmic sound of her grandmother humming a soft tune was enough to make Lilac believe that life could remain like this forever.

Despite the simplicity of her existence, Lilac often dreamed of more.

She dreamt of a future where she might find someone who could love her, someone who could give her the happiness she longed for. But those dreams always felt like distant whispers—just out of reach.

Her life had been shaped by loss. Her parents were gone, victims of a fire that had destroyed their home when she was only a child.

Since then, it had been just her and her grandparents, quietly surviving the passing years. It was enough for her. Or so she told herself.

As Lilac pulled a bundle of sage from the herb rack, she heard the unmistakable sound of horse hooves against the dirt path leading toward their home.

Her heart skipped a beat, though she could not say why. It was unusual for anyone to visit, especially not so early in the morning.

"Grandma, someone's here," Lilac called, setting the bundle of sage down on the counter.

Her grandmother didn't seem concerned, though she paused to peer out the window. "It's probably your uncle," she murmured, not quite looking at her.

Lilac frowned, sensing an odd tension in her grandmother's voice. Her uncle, Derek Wren, had not visited in months. When he did, it was always with some strange business or news that Lilac could never quite understand.

He was a man of few words, and those he spoke were often clipped and hurried.

She went to the door, her curiosity piqued. As she stepped outside, she squinted against the sunlight, her hand shielding her eyes. A tall man on horseback was making his way up the path toward the cottage.

His figure was familiar—her uncle Derek, broad-shouldered and wearing his usual dark coat, the one that always seemed to carry the scent of smoke and expensive tobacco.

"Uncle Derek!" Lilac called out, her voice carrying across the quiet meadow.

The man's steely eyes flicked up, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Ah, Lilac. I wasn't expecting to find you here."

Lilac stood still for a moment, as if unsure whether his words were meant to be an insult. Her uncle never quite seemed to approve of her, and she wasn't sure why.

"You could have at least sent word," she said, keeping her tone light but cautious. "Is everything well?"

"Everything is well enough, girl," Derek replied brusquely, dismounting from his horse and striding toward the door with a contract in his hand.

"I've come with business." He did not wait for an invitation.

Inside, her grandmother remained seated by the hearth, her gnarled hands resting quietly in her lap. She said nothing as Derek entered, offering him no greeting beyond a faint nod.

Lilac could feel the change in the air—an uncomfortable heaviness that settled in her chest.

"Business?" Lilac repeated, glancing from her uncle to the contract in his hand. "What kind of business?"

Derek didn't respond immediately. He placed the contract on the wooden table with a sharp thud, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room.

"It's time, Lilac," he said, his voice more clipped than usual. "Time for you to stop playing at this simple life. You have a far greater role to play, whether you want to or not."

Lilac's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Without hesitation, Derek's eyes flickered to her grandmother for a moment, before settling back on Lilac. "You've been sold, girl."

The words hit Lilac like a physical blow. Her throat tightened, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe. "Sold?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

Her uncle nodded, unmoved by her shock. "To Lord Ashalt Wellenberg."

The name struck a chord deep within her, though she couldn't place why. Lord Ashalt Wellenberg was known in the town for his wealth, his power, and his ruthlessness.

It was a name that many feared, but very few dared to speak aloud. But why? Why would her uncle sell her to such a man?

She turned to her grandmother, searching her face for some sign of understanding, of reassurance, but found nothing. The old woman simply stared at the fire, as if she were lost in another world.

Lilac's heart raced, and her hands trembled. She took a step back, pressing a hand to her chest. "You—you sold me? To him?"

Her uncle, Derek, did not explain, only a cold nod. "It's for the best, Lilac. You'll be living in a fine mansion, cared for by servants. A much better life than what you've got here, that's for certain."

Lilac's mind was reeling, and she stumbled slightly, trying to process what he was saying. She had no voice in the matter, no say at all.

Her fate had been decided. She had been bought and sold like some common piece of property. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Her heart pounded in her chest. "I can't—I can't go," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her uncle's face hardened. "You will," he said, his voice flat and final. "Lord Ashalt expects you to arrive at his manor in a few days. There's nothing more to discuss."

Lilac's stomach churned as she stumbled back to the door. "No! I won't go!" She clenched her fists tightly, as if trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but everything in her life was slipping away. Her home. Her life with her grandparents. Her very freedom.

Derek's eyes narrowed, but his tone remained firm. "You don't have a choice in the matter. Your 'true value' will be recognized by Lord Ashalt," he muttered under his breath, just low enough that Lilac almost didn't catch the words.

"True value?" Lilac repeated, stepping toward him. "What does that mean? What do you mean by my 'true value'?"

Her uncle's lips curled into something resembling a smile, but it was not a pleasant one. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with," he replied, his voice low, his words dripping with something unspoken.

"Your bloodline, girl. It's worth more than you think."

Lilac's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. "What bloodline? What are you talking about?" Her voice trembled as the weight of his words sank in.

But before her uncle could answer, he turned sharply, his boots scraping against the floor as he made his way toward the door.

"Enough questions. Time to go. Don't forget to pack," he said, his voice colder now. "Lord Asphalt doesn't like to be kept waiting."

The door closed behind him with a soft click, and Lilac was left standing in the empty room, her mind racing, her heart in turmoil. Bloodline.

True value. What could it mean? What was her uncle hiding?

She turned to her grandmother, who still sat motionless by the fire, her expression distant and unreadable. Lilac felt as though her world was crumbling around her.

For the first time in her life, she felt utterly alone.