Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 291: Rise of the Phoenix 2

Chapter 291: Rise of the Phoenix 2

The silence hung heavy in the steamy air of the bath chamber. The servant clutched her arm, trembling, not just from pain but from the shock of being struck—by Linnea of all people.

Linnea stood still, her breathing shallow, hand slowly lowering to her side as the echo of the slap faded.

Eloisa’s voice cracked the tension. "You’ve overstepped, Linnea. You don’t have the right—"

"I do," Linnea cut in, her voice low but charged with emotion. She turned toward the duchess, something in her eyes unrecognizable—an old fire, long buried. "Because I am his mother. And I will never stand by while someone hurts my son again. Not a servant. Not a noble. Not even you." She glared at the duchess. "He was taken from me before, and I knew you lent a hand to that Duchess."

Eloisa’s jaw clenched. "How dare you slander me? You forget who gives you a roof over your head—"

"No," Linnea interrupted softly, "I remember—every single day. I remember how you kept me silent. I remember how I had to pretend I didn’t see the bruises on my son’s arms. I remember how powerless I felt while he flinched at a raised voice. I remember how you taught me obedience so well, I almost taught it to him too. Yet, despite my silence and obedience, you still had my son kidnapped even when he was disguised as a girl."

Her eyes welled up, but her voice didn’t waver.

"But not anymore."

Sandoz, still sitting in the tub, watched his mother like she was both new and familiar. His small hands trembled just slightly under the water.

Eloisa’s lips parted, but she couldn’t summon the usual bite. For the first time in years, Linnea looked like someone she could no longer predict, no longer mold.

The servant whimpered quietly, backing away, but Linnea didn’t spare her another glance.

Eloisa stepped forward, still composed but no longer in control. "You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment. You are still weak, Linnea."

"No," Linnea said, rising slowly. "For the first time, I’m seeing clearly."

"I will not allow anyone in this castle to lay a hand on him again. I will fight tooth and nail if someone harms him."

Eloisa’s eyes narrowed. "You think you have power here, Linnea, but you don’t."

Linnea turned to her, calm but steady.

"I don’t need power," she said. "I just need him."

Linea knelt again beside the tub and dipped a soft cloth in the warm water. Her hands moved gently now, dabbing the soap off Sandoz’s back. "When the servant bathes you, do they always do this to you?"

Sandoz nodded.

She clenched her fist. "You should’ve told me sooner," she whispered, her voice breaking at the edges.

"I didn’t want you to worry," he said. They always tell me to be good and not cause trouble. If I do, then they will hurt you."

Linnea’s eyes misted. "I am sorry, my son. It is because of me that you get hurt."

She took a towel and helped Sandoz out of the tub. She passed him the clothes that were prepared for him. He went behind the partition wall and dressed hastily.

"Hmmp. You think you have grown wings and have become arrogant, Linnea." The duchess’s voice was filled with annoyance. "Do not think that you can go over me because you bore the duke a son. You will always be beneath me, Linnea. So stop coveting the position of the duchess. You will never be one."

Linnea dried Sandoz’s hair using the towel. Then she looked into his eyes. "Being good doesn’t mean letting people hurt you, sweetheart. You don’t have to take everything they give you."

Sandoz blinked back tears. "Will the duchess be mad at me, at us?"

"Let her be," Linnea said softly, brushing his damp hair back from his face. "Let them all be. You did nothing wrong."

With that, she led Sandoz out of the bath chamber, past the stunned maid, past the duchess, and into the hallway.

The duchess remained rooted in place, surrounded by steam and silence, and for the first time in years, she felt something unfamiliar bloom in her chest.

Doubt.

...

At the dining table, Duke Connor Arces sat at the head of the table. His eyes, deep-brown and calculating, moved from Sandoz to Linnea and then settled on his wife, Eloisa.

"I heard," he said, setting down his goblet, "that there was an incident."

Linnea sat beside Sandoz, her posture composed but cool. She placed a protective hand on her son’s shoulder before meeting the duke’s gaze.

"There was."

Eloisa broke in with a brittle smile. "The boy lashed out at Anna—physically. Quite a disturbing sign. And Linnea, in some burst of misplaced maternal pride, slapped my maid in front of me."

Connor’s eyebrows rose. He turned to Sandoz. "Is that true?"

Sandoz hesitated, then looked at his mother. Linnea nodded gently.

"Yes, Father," the boy said. "But she hurt me first. She scrubbed so hard it burned. I asked her to stop, and she wouldn’t. So I made her feel what it was like."

The dining hall went silent.

The duke’s gaze shifted to Eloisa. "Why wasn’t I told that servants are using force during routine baths?"

Eloisa stiffened. "It’s not—force. It’s discipline. Nobles are trained to endure discomfort—"

"He’s a child," Linnea said, cutting across her. "Not a soldier. Not a tool."

Connor considered her. It was rare for Linnea to speak so passionately, and even rarer for her to interrupt the duchess in public, but he liked this version of her.

"And you hit a servant?" he asked, not harshly, but pointedly.

"Yes," Linnea said. "Because she needed to know that his body is not hers to damage. I will not apologize for protecting my son."

Sandoz looked up at her, eyes wide with something like awe. Connor noticed.

He leaned back in his chair. "It seems there’s a change in the air."

Eloisa scoffed quietly. "You’re not going to reprimand her?"

"I’m going to watch," Connor said evenly. "Because for the first time, I see my son speaking without fear. And I wonder who helped that happen."

Eloisa flinched, as if he’d slapped her instead.

"She’s turning him against you—against this household."

"No," Connor said, sipping from his goblet, "she’s teaching him what you never could. Boundaries. Self-worth."

The duchess’s hand trembled slightly as she reached for her knife. She hid it behind her usual veneer of control.

Linnea turned to Sandoz. "You don’t have to eat if you’re not hungry."

"I am," he said, picking up his spoon. "Just a little nervous."

"That’s alright," she whispered, brushing a hand through his curls. "You’re allowed to be."

Connor watched them with quiet calculation. Linnea was no longer the quiet and submissive woman in his memory. She had stepped forward, and for the first time, she cast a shadow that reached him.