VALORIA WILDEROSE
I wake up with a start, as if revving to life like an engine.
One mont I’m sitting in bed with Azrael talking, the next it’s morning—and I’m oddly refreshed and well rested.
Warm sunlight peeks into the room even with the thick curtains, painting a bright, soft hue across every piece of furniture within its reach.
I’m both freaked out and marveled yet again at the existence of magic and how easily he wields it with precision; putting to sleep with one flick of a finger, like it’s easier than breathing.
It makes wonder what else he can do so easily, the limits to his expert manipulation of nature and, perhaps... if it’s a passable skill.
What are you thinking, Valoria? Magic is bad.
Black magic especially—sothing vile and wicked, frowned upon by the goddess. Sothing I should never hope to wield just because it looks cool.
I bla these blasphemous thoughts on him. Being around him is clearly bad for anyone.
And that is why I am glad once my eyes fall on the empty, cold space right next to .
Azrael is gone—probably hours before I’d woken up—to commit to other matters pertaining to his reason for being here, I assu; leaving behind in this wide, lavish room.
For the first ti, he’s given exactly what I want—space to myself.
But my joy is not long-lived.
Just as I snuggle back into the sheets, deciding to lock myself in for the rest of the week, a knock echoes from the door.
The re fact that I am ho already ans that there’s nothing good waiting for on the other side of that door.
"Valoria?" Marcella’s voice sings sweetly from the other side.
A cold, dry chill ripples through my entire body in an instant, waking from whatever residual sleep I have left.
I spring up from bed, staring at the door like there’s a monster waiting on the other side. Technically, there is.
She knocks again—pounding harder.
I leap from my bed, rushing to open it before she can again, knowing it will only an trouble for myself the longer I keep her waiting on the other side.
"Good morning!" she greets elatedly, forcing her way through the second I open the door.
"G-ood morn-ning."
"I ca to get you for breakfast, and I brought the perfect dress for you to try on today."
In her hands is a crisp white dress. She holds it up for to see just how pretty it is—and it is pretty.
A lovely white sundress with faded light blue lilies. It’s so beautiful that I’m concerned why she’s here so early in the morning offering it to .
"Don’t you love it?"
"I-I d-d-do."
"Perfect. Try it on." She stretches it towards .
I take it from her hands skeptically, obeying her without question.
Right in front of her, I strip slowly, taking off my pajamas and trying on the dress that is, surprisingly, my perfect size.
It feels light and comfortable too.
I walk over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, gasping the second I see just how lovely it looks on —completely forgetting everything else for a split second.
Until Marcella is behind again, staring at it with , a sly smile on her lips.
"It looks beautiful on you," she comnts.
Her hands fall to arrange my hair, and I stiffen from her touch—uncomfortable, especially with her hands lingering around my neck so casually.
"A few weeks of living a life of luxury you never even dread of went a long way, huh? Your ugly skin looks healthier. You’re almost fit enough to call yourself family."
Despite her sweet tone, her harsh words sting, stripping away the initial joy of putting this dress on and looking remotely good in it.
She leans closer, parting the hair away from my ear.
"Shouldn’t you be grateful to for taking your mate off your hands and giving you the chance to live a life your feeble mind couldn’t even comprehend?" The sweetness in her tone is suddenly gone—replaced with irritated crassness.
Her hands dig into my hair and pull on it roughly, sending a sudden wave of pain through my scalp.
I yelp in agony, biting down on my lips before the sound can get loud enough to cause a scene.
I am not allowed to draw attention when my sisters discipline —only take it with silent obedience, no matter how much it hurts.
"What are you going to give ? How are you going to show your gratitude? It’s impolite to be ungrateful to your sister."
"T-T-Th... T-hank yo-u."
"For?"
I swallow the tears back, trembling beneath her violent oppression.
"Ta-Tak-king my m-m-mate and se-s-sending to t-the ki-ng."
"Well... you’re welco."
Her hands finally let go, and I fall forward roughly, landing on my hands and knees and gasping for air.
I’d forgotten to breathe—from all the fear, from being scared that she might hurt , or maybe kill .
Out of all my sisters, Marcella hates the most—for reasons I never knew. She could be my killer.
I could be alone in a room with my killer right now.
Panic ripples through my body. My eyes dart toward the door a few feet away, scoping my closest exit.
How long will it take to reach the door—and can I do so without her grabbing and holding down?
"Relax, Valoria." She leans low enough, patting my back softly to calm my violent coughing.
Her voice is sweet again, void of hateful malice—even chuckling at my reaction.
"It’s just a joke. His Majesty might walk in now and have another misunderstanding like last night."
Last night?
"You really put Father in a difficult situation," she continues, pouting her lips with disappointnt.
Did Azrael do sothing when I left?
Co to think of it... the banquet ended considerably early, and everyone was completely gone and in their rooms by the ti Eros ca to get .
I thought it was odd but didn’t dwell much on it.
Was that Azrael?
There’s no way he’d do anything like that because of . If anything, he enjoyed my torture. They must have it all wrong, because they have no idea how sick and evil he is.
"Are you better?" she asks once my wheezing is gone.
I nod my head slowly, letting her help to my feet until I’m steady.
"Perfect. Now get ready so we can go. Everyone is waiting for you."
"O-kay..."
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