"The shadows, do you control them?" she asked, after a brief mont of silence, eyeing the dark weaves still secured around her.
Many tis she had seen this but it was still hard to believe. She had never heard about dark weaves before. It was... strange.
"Yes"
"But there’s nothing like a weaver who can control shadows, only the elents."
"True."
"So why?"
"You ask too many questions, are you that curious of , love?" He sounded intrigued by her sudden interest.
"No," she replied with a frown. In fact, she didn’t want to bother about this man... but. "It’s just everything you do is..." she couldn’t place a word for it.
She wasn’t sure anything could describe him. He was different as well as he was difficult and his various actions toward things were giving her a whiplash.
"Insane? Yes."
That was far from the words she needed but she guessed it sumd it up.
Kraven shifted her braid over her shoulders for her to see, the sound of her heartbeat spiking at the sight of it.
"Now you wear a crown," he said, rising to his feet along with her and retreating the shadows wrapped around her fra.
Isadora stepped away from him swiftly like a practiced motion. Her hand ran up and down her long braid, just past her waist, tight and impeccably neat.
"When they see you wearing this, it’ll cause a ruckus" he added, itching for the uproar that would unfold.
"I have a feeling you’ll enjoy every mont of this... I’m just an entertainnt for you after all."
"Trust , love, entertainnt is just the tip of the iceberg" he replied, grabbing the bag he ca with and pulled out a corset leather armor different from the one she had on.
"Take that off," he nudged her with a frown as if the one she wore displeased him.
Isadora hesitated for a mont but eventually complied, removing it.
Another silence passed between them, prompting Kraven to raise an eyebrow. That simple gesture spoke volus, and she knew exactly what it ant.
Isadora visibly gulped. "I can wear it myself." She stretched her hand out.
"Hmm," he murmured, a sound of mild annoyance at her stubbornness, but a smirk followed. "I can tie your hands up and have my way. Choose"
Isadora murmured a curse and stepped closer. Kraven broke the small distance and walked behind her.
He wore the corset around her fra and did the tie. His body heat was so infectious, causing her to break a sweat.
Her nerves worked her to the core as she focused on each knot he tied with careful movents. She could finally breathe when he finished, but her heart raced uncontrollably, and her cheeks burned heat.
’Why is my body acting this way?’ she thought, hating herself for it. Any reaction toward him was considered blasphemous.
"Now for your reward."
This wasn’t it?
Kraven stepped forward and took out twin short swords in a black scabbard—with golden engravings.
Isadora couldn’t take her eyes off it, there was this strange pull to them she couldn’t explain. Before she could realize her action she had already walked toward him despite her rule to keep her distance.
"Go on... take it."
She raised her eyes to Kraven’s. He didn’t seem to be up to anything fishy, she took it.
"It’s small," she said with a frown, but it was lighter than expected.
Was he using this to mock her again just like he did with that dagger?
"Not smaller than the dagger, this is an actual weapon, it is perfect for you."
She unsheathed one of the blades and gasped. The steel was magnificent—smooth, razor-sharp, and the detailed markings that elevated the craftsmanship were even more breathtaking.
Isadora stared at her reflection through the steel, pale ambers staring back at her. She paused, taking in her appearance, she looked different—she couldn’t explain how, but she did.
Compared to the pitiful sight she once saw every ti she woke up in that brothel, this felt like a welcod change.
Her once soft features now appeared sharper, and her eyes held an intensity that hadn’t been there before.
"It’s beautiful," she murmured under her breath, she couldn’t tell if she ant the blade or her reflection. Maybe both and it was deeply satisfying.
"The Hunt will make you wish you were dead."
At his words she suddenly felt his warmth behind her, staring back at her blade she found his silver eyes.
"You’d wish I could have let you drown in that lake," he mumbled with stretched lips as if the mory prompted delight.
"Then why did you pull out?" she asked. "You didn’t let my soul greet Daudi"
"Because, love, I’m not done with you, and no god will have you"
"Do you still wish alive to suffer?"
He took her hands, now holding the two blades, gripping her wrist tightly as he guided her movents.
"I wish you alive to survive; survival is what you need," he said, leading her movents up and down, guiding her through the fluid rhythm of a blade dance.
"You hate your weakness, you always did."
She gasped as he thrust her hand forward, the tip of the blade aiming sharply in a position.
"You were sold at the age of six, thrown in that fat ball grasp,"
He guided her hand back until the blade stood upright, and she caught a glimpse of her reflection.
"Exploited for winters, until eventually, you turned into a puppet living solely for survival."
She startled at her gaze, her eyes wide and trembling.
He moved her left grip and aid the blade to point in a position.
"Tell , Isadora, do you still see that girl in shackles?" he asked.
No, she didn’t, what she saw was the complete opposite.
"That’s because you’re no longer caged, you feel more alive than you have ever been."
’No! He’s lying...’ she thought deeply. She’s still trapped... with him.
"You know nothing, Kraven," she replied, in a stern voice.
He chuckled lightly, the sound close to her ears.
"I know enough," he said, spinning her around and gripping her chin in a possessive hold.
His crazed eyes locked on her lips.
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