VALORIA WILDEROSE
I tense up and choke on a biscuit. I don’t want her to misunderstand the details of our relationship, if it can even be called that.
"W-We’re not that close. He only needed because he was investigating my father."
The words taste like a lie even as I say them. There was more to it than that, but she doesn’t need to know.
"It’s okay, don’t be scared." She offers a napkin. I take it with a bow.
My hands tremble slightly, but I force them to still. The last thing I need is for her to see how nervous I am.
"I’m not going to strangle you just because you spent a week alone with him. I like our arrangent, you see. He has as many won as he wants, and I get to explore and conquer the world one pack at a ti and expand our empire and influence. My part is the fun part."
She says it so casually, like conquering nations is a hobby rather than a bloodbath. I don’t know whether to be impressed or horrified. Perhaps both.
"But I am curious about sothing." She leans closer all of a sudden. "Do you like him?"
This ti I choke on air, leaning forward and coughing violently, covering my lips with the napkin.
"I uhh, I-I..."
"Relax, you can say if you don’t or if you do. I won’t kill you either way. You see, my job—aside from waging wars and staining the earth with as much werewolf blood as possible—is looking after the hens in his coop. I like knowing a thing or two about them sotis, and you, Valoria... you stand out. So much so that I can’t help but be curious about you."
I can’t decipher if that’s a good thing. Azrael warned not to stand out, yet I doubt I could have done anything to avoid catching her attention even if I was early.
In the end it’s his fault that I’m so interesting to her and everyone else.
If he had just left alone like every other concubine, I’d be invisible. Safe. Forgettable. But no—he had to drag into his world and paint a target on my back. One I never asked for.
"I want to know why he took you out on a mission when it wasn’t necessary... about how sothing as frail and weak as you has survived in a den of rabid wolves for as long as you have."
"I don’t know."
If I did, I’d find a way to keep doing it with more purpose, in hopes that I can survive for even more weeks. Survival has beco a skill I never knew I needed until now.
"I know you don’t. That’s why it’s interesting. Weakness has no place within the walls of the castle, and you don’t have enough appeal. Or perhaps your weakness is a guise—then perhaps you’re actually strong. Basically, I want to know where exactly I should put you. Are you weak or are you strong, Valoria? Can you confidently answer that question?"
"I can’t."
The definition I’ve carried with myself for years is the pathetic, weak affair baby that ruined everyone’s life by simply existing.
But recently I’ve decided I don’t want that tag following around anymore, and that decision was enough to set free from years of pain.
If all it takes is making one single decision—not to cower, not to just take and accept—would that make stronger?
Then does that an that I am no longer weak?
The question lingers in my mind, unanswered. I’ve spent so long believing I was nothing that I don’t know how to see myself any other way. Maybe I never will.
"I see." Elowen leans back into her seat again, watching intensely as the mood between us slowly begins to shift. "I guess we’ll have to find out the answer to that question soon enough."
I don’t get what she ans, and the tone in her voice doesn’t help the unsettling feeling in my chest.
Sothing is wrong. The air feels thicker, heavier. My skin prickles with warning, every instinct screaming at to run.
Heat suddenly rises from my insides like a fire has been set ablaze, lting all my organs.
I clutch my tummy, leaning forward once sothing sharp and painful tears through and only becos more excruciating.
I cough again into my palm, spitting out sothing warm and tallic.
It’s blood. The deep crimson stain in my palm confirms it.
My heart races, pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. This can’t be happening. Not here. Not now.
"Oh good, it’s starting to kick in. Just on ti," Elowen comnts, casually sipping her tea and staring at it as well.
I’m engulfed with panic, shivering from the ice-cold feeling consuming my fingers and fear.
"W-What’s happening to ?" I ask before I start gagging more blood onto the table.
I’m overwheld by the urge to vomit more of it, and it only causes to descend deeper into agony. I’m burning alive and freezing on the outside.
Every nerve in my body screams in protest. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. All I know is pain.
My muscles give way and I topple forward onto the floor, suddenly wheezing for air.
Elowen remains unfazed.
But then slowly she pulls out three vials from her pocket, dropping them on the table one by one. Each carries a distinct bright color and design.
Blue, Red, and Purple.
They glint under the light like jewels. Beautiful. Deadly. A choice I never asked to make.
Once they’re all set up, her mask cracks.
She smiles widely, her lips stretching across her face—wicked and vile—with the sa sinister delight Azrael had looked at the very first ti we t.
Except hers is worse. There’s no curiosity behind it. No amusent. Only cruelty, pure and unfiltered.
"Would you like to play a ga with ?"
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