Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 290: Rise of a Phoenix

Linnea and Sandoz were ushered into the duchess’ chamber beneath the glittering light of crystal sconces. The doors thudded shut behind them, the echo ringing like a judge’s gavel.

"Sit down, Linnea," the Duchess commanded, her voice a whip-crack.

Linnea remained upright, her spine like steel, her eyes cool but defiant.

Eloisa’s voice sliced through the air like a blade, its sharpness demanding attention. "Are you truly going to defy me now?" Her eyes glinted with a mix of challenge and simmering fury, every word laced with an electric tension that charged the atmosphere around them.

There was a thick pause. Then, with heavy reluctance, Linnea and Sandoz sank into the carved velvet chairs.

Eloisa’s sharp gaze darted to a waiting servant, who immediately swept forward with exaggerated deference.

"Young Lord," she said with forced sweetness, "come, I’ll assist you with your bath. Your father is on his way—he’s expecting you at dinner, and you should have dressed by then. The Duchess had prepared clothes for you."

Sandoz cast a furtive glance at his mother, his heart racing with apprehension. Linnea, sensing his unease, reached out gently, her hand gliding across his shoulder like a soothing breeze, radiating warmth and unwavering support. Her soft smile, combined with a reassuring nod, seemed to whisper a silent promise: I will be okay.

As the servant and Sandoz left, Linnea silently watched the duchess as she sat elegantly on the cushioned seat opposite her.

"Aren’t you going to pour tea for me, Linnea?" Eliosa asked condescendingly.

Linnea pursed her lips. Indeed, it was her duty to serve the primary wife. She stood up, picked up the ceramic teapot, and poured a cup before placing it before the duchess.

Eloisa did not pick up the cup. She scrutinized Linnea with a pair of brown eyes. She had gained some flesh and has become beautiful.

If it were before, Linnea would squirm under her gaze. Not anymore. Lady Lara was right. Sandoz will be bullied if she allowed herself to be trampled by the duchess. If she wanted to protect her son, she first needed to be strong.

The servant led the boy into the adjoining bath chamber. Steam coiled from a wooden tub filled with scented water. The room smelled of lavender, but something more medicinal was beneath it—strong and strange.

"I can bathe myself," Sandoz muttered as he reached for the buttons on his tunic.

The servant huffed but stepped back. Sandoz stripped down to his inner garments and climbed into the tub, sighing as the warm water enveloped him. The servant moved behind him with practiced indifference, grabbing a coarse loofah and a bar of soap.

Without warning, she began to scrub. Hard. Too hard.

Sandoz flinched, pain blooming like fire across his back. "You’re hurting me!" he cried.

"This is how it’s done, Young Lord," she replied curtly. "If I go gently, the dirt stays buried in your skin."

Hisss.

Sandoz winced. The sensation was unbearable, like a hot brand being dragged across raw flesh.

Then, something shifted in his eyes.

He remembered what Lara had told him in a low whisper that night: Don’t let the servants treat you like you’re beneath them. They will test you. If they succeed once, they will do it again and again. You have to push back.

In a flash, he turned, gripping the maid’s wrist with startling strength. Her eyes went wide. She twisted, tried to break free—but he held firm. How could a child, not even half her size, have such strength?

"Let go!" she demanded through gritted teeth, suddenly unsure.

But Sandoz didn’t release her. Instead, he snatched the loofah from her hand and began scrubbing her exposed arm with the same brutal force she had used on him.

"Ahhh!" the servant screamed, jerking in pain. The rough fibers raked across her skin, leaving angry welts. Tears welled in her eyes despite her size and strength.

Again, Sandoz dragged the loofah across her arm, more forceful this time. Her shriek, like that of a pig being slaughtered, filled the chamber.

The door burst open.

Eloisa and Linnea rushed in, eyes darting from the boy to the crying servant.

"What is going on here?" the duchess demanded, her voice trembling with fury.

"Your Grace!" the maid gasped, thrusting her wounded arm forward. It was covered in red, blooming bruises. "The young duke did this to me!"

"Preposterous!" Eloisa barked. "Sandoz, what’s gotten into you? One night away and you return as some ill-mannered brute?"

"Duchess," Linnea interjected, stepping forward, her voice calm but firm, "you haven’t even asked my son what happened and you are scolding him?"

Eloisa’s eyes narrowed. Linnea had always been quiet, submissive. This new steel in her voice was jarring.

"I wasn’t speaking to you," the Duchess snapped. "Look what your child has done!"

Linnea ignored her, kneeling beside Sandoz. fгeewebnovёl.com

"Tell me, sweetheart," she said gently, "what happened?"

Sandoz’s lips trembled, but he held her gaze. "She hurt me. She scrubbed too hard. I just wanted her to feel how I felt."

"You are lying, Sandoz." Eloisa angrily slapped the side of the tub, creating ripples in the water inside.

"I am not lying, Duchess." Sandoz’s voice was small but resolute.

Linnea lifted the hem of his undershirt.

Even through the thin fabric, his back was raw—red, irritated, with faint bruises layered beneath from older injuries. Linnea froze. Her face went pale... then red.

She stood and walked toward the servant in eerie silence.

Then—SLAP.

Her palm met the woman’s face with stunning force. The maid’s head snapped sideways, a stunned cry escaping her throat.

Eloisa was stunned. She never imagined that she would witness the scene of Linnea slapping her servant.

"Linnea!" she choked. "How dare you? Anna has been working the castle for more than twenty years. She is the wet nurse of my daughter. Do you really think a slap is warranted for something so trivial?"

Linnea turned, her eyes blazing. She pointed to Sandoz’s back.

"Do you call this trivial?" she hissed. "Do you see his skin? The bruises from before haven’t even healed. This isn’t service—this is cruelty. And she needed to be reminded of her place. If you allow this, she’ll do worse tomorrow."

The room went still.

Eloisa stared, speechless for the first time in years. Linnea—gentle, quiet Linnea—had just struck a servant and stared down a duchess without flinching.

Sandoz looked up at his mother with wide, shining eyes.

He had never been more proud.