Leni couldn’t sleep as the night deepened.
Outside the window, rain poured as if to sink the world, a relentless deluge that beat against the glass.
Thunder accompanied occasional flashes of lightning, illuminating the room in stark, momentary bursts of white.
Even with the window closed, the scent of wet earth seeped in like a thief through the rattling glass, a constant reminder of the storm raging beyond their cramped sanctuary.
The wind howled a mournful tune, and the old building groaned in response, as if in protest of the tempest.
Every creak and groan of the structure, every drip of water finding its way through unseen cracks, only amplified the oppressive stillness of the room where she lay.
It was a double-edged sword of a night.
She could hide her presence with the cacophony of the sky, the booming thunder and drumming rain providing a perfect cover for any movement.
But if she went outside, her clothes would inevitably get wet, leaving undeniable traces of her departure, making a discrete return impossible.
How could she slip out and return without being discovered?
The question gnawed at her, a seemingly insurmountable obstacle in her yearning for connection.
The darkness was absolute, a thick, palpable blanket that swallowed all light, making even the outline of Blayden a mere suggestion.
The long candle had burned down to nothing, leaving the room in pitch blackness.
On a night when thick storm clouds obscured the moon, cherished faces shimmered in the darkness of Leni’s mind, vivid and painfully real.
The faces of her troupe members, her father, Thomas – they danced before her closed eyes, a bittersweet torment.
I miss you.
Leni reached out, fumbling in the darkness, her fingers grasping at empty air.
The phantom warmth of holding Thomas in the Forie Forest squirmed in her memory, a vivid sensation that made her ache.
Her heart warmed her body, a small ember of hope and longing in the vast emptiness, and her softly released breath whispered his name.
The ache in her chest intensified with each remembered smile, each shared laugh.
The deeper the path became, the more unbearable the longing was.
Her entire body tingled with a desperate yearning that rose to her chin, threatening to overwhelm her.
I miss you, everyone.
The unspoken plea hung heavy in the air, a testament to the depth of her isolation and the sudden, brutal loss of her world.
The silence of the room, punctuated only by the storm, amplified her loneliness.
Leni moved only her lips, silently calling out names, a litany of remembrance in the suffocating darkness.
With each name, memories flooded back: happy times, kind people, shared dreams.
She had thought that world would last forever, an unbreakable tapestry of laughter and camaraderie.
As the phantom sound of laughter echoed in her ears, a ghostly echo of a life now lost, Leni made up her mind.
The decision, though born of desperation, settled a quiet resolve within her.
“Master.”
Her clear call permeated the darkness, a fragile thread of sound against the storm.
Just then, as if in answer to her plea, the thunder stopped, and even the fierce rain seemed to have somewhat subsided, leaving only a steady, rhythmic drumming against the roof.
Leni called Blayden again, a little more clearly, her voice gaining a touch of urgency.
“Master…”
There was no change in the breathing behind her.
His low, regular inhales and exhales were like the steady rhythm of calm sleep, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions churning within her.
Leni slowly turned her body and head, straining to see in the absolute darkness.
In the impenetrable blackness, Blayden’s body maintained a perfectly straight posture, an unnervingly still silhouette.
Since she had insisted she wouldn’t call him ‘Master,’ Blayden would surely have reacted if he were awake, either with a sharp retort or a question.
But his face, pointed towards the ceiling, merely outlined a statue in the darkness, unmoving, unseeing.
Leni slowly rose, her movements deliberate and painfully slow.
Carefully, so as not to make a sound, she placed her hands on the floor and pushed herself up, torso first.
She was lying on Blayden’s cloak, the thick, heavy fabric providing the only comfort in the stark room.
The widely spread black cloak had served as their bed for the night, a silent testament to their unexpected proximity.
Her own cloak, the one her father had given her, was half-tucked under Blayden’s, a detail she now noticed with a jolt of understanding.
So that’s why he told me to take off my cloak.
To hold it hostage until morning.
He calculated that I wouldn’t be able to run away, leaving my father’s most cherished possession behind.
The realization sent a fresh wave of cold dread through Leni, a shudder at Blayden’s meticulousness, his cunning foresight.
She caught her breath, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart.
As she moved her legs, her knees pressed into the pile of straw, a soft rustle that sounded deafening in the stillness.
She used her hands like an animal’s paws to crawl forward, inch by painstaking inch.
She decided to observe Blayden, enveloped in darkness, and then go around his legs.
It would take longer than simply climbing over him, but it seemed like a safer route, minimizing the risk of disturbing him.
As soon as she passed Blayden’s thigh, the straw rustled, a betraying sound.
Oh no!
Before she could feel dismay, a sturdy body swiftly rolled sideways and pinned her down, a sudden, crushing weight.
“Gasp!”
Leni fell backward, pressed under Blayden’s solid chest, the breath knocked from her lungs.
His taut voice echoed above her forehead, low and dangerous.
“I told you to stay where you were.”
“Th-that…”
Her words froze in her throat, refusing to come out. In the pervasive darkness, Blayden’s eyes gleamed like a beast’s, predatory and piercing, looking down at her, seeing everything.
Had he been awake this whole time?
Was he pretending to sleep and watching her, waiting for her to make a move?
He couldn’t have reacted so swiftly otherwise, so silently.
Leni realized she had gravely underestimated Blayden, but it was too late for regret.
The cold grip of fear tightened around her.
“You have hands and feet, so you keep causing trouble. Do you want your limbs cut off to truly become a burden?”
His chilling voice pierced her skin, a threat that sent a shiver down to her bones.
“I let it slide once as childishness, but I won’t forgive it twice. Someone who deserts the unit is as harmful as a spy.”
The accusation hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving.
“I wasn’t trying to run away.”
Leni managed to move her lips, the words a desperate whisper.
“Then?”
His voice was a low growl, demanding an explanation.
Her heart felt shriveled under the immense weight of Blayden’s chest pressing down on her, the air growing thin.
“My troupe members are staying at an inn nearby. I just wanted to go say hello quickly. They must be wondering about my father. I wanted to tell them he’s safe, so they don’t worry.”
The words tumbled out, a plea for understanding.
“Do you still think you’re a princess?”
A princess?
What is he talking about?
The abrupt change in topic confused her, momentarily distracting her from her terror.
“In your troupe, your father might have been a king, and you might have been a beloved young princess to everyone. Those days are over. You are a slave, Solenia Radelyon.”
His words were a cruel hammer blow, shattering any remaining illusions she clung to.
“I am not a slave!”
Leni gathered her breath and cried out, her voice raw with defiance and pain.
Blayden didn’t bat an eye at her full-bodied outcry, his expression unchanging in the dark.
“If you’re not a slave, then what are you?”
Someone’s daughter.
A colleague.
A friend.
And myself.
The silent answers formed in her mind, a desperate assertion of her identity.
Tears welled up in Leni’s eyes, hot and stinging.
Overwhelmed with sorrow, she realized how precious the everyday things, as common as water or wind, had been – the freedom, the companionship, the simple joy of belonging.
I should have been kinder to my troupe members.
I feel like I always acted spoiled and only looked out for myself.
Her throat tightened with a fresh wave of regret, a bitter taste in her mouth.
“Peter…”
The name that weighed most heavily on her heart slipped out, a broken sob. I was so mean to such a kind boy.
The memory of her selfishness, even in small ways, now felt like a crushing burden.
Blayden gripped her chin, his fingers strong and unyielding.
“What are you muttering?”
The strength and heat transferred directly from his bare hand, ungloved, burning against her skin.
Leni gritted her teeth to keep from trembling, then stammered, “I was thinking of my friend. I regret not treating him better.”
Having laid her heart bare, her longing turned into desperation, a frantic urgency to rectify past wrongs.
If she didn’t go out now, when would she ever see her companions again?
The thought of a permanent farewell darkened her vision, a cold dread washing over her.
“The troupe members are staying at an inn that comes into view if you go around the path. I’ll just go quickly, see their faces, and come back. I’ll make sure it doesn’t delay our departure in the morning.”
Her words were rushed, a torrent of desperate promises.
Blayden’s thumb pressed the flesh under her lower lip, his gaze unblinking.
“What if you go out and don’t come back?” His question was a cold, hard stone in the pit of her stomach.
“I’ll come back. I promise you.”
Her voice trembled with the earnestness of her vow.
“How can I trust your words?”
His retort was swift, cutting through her pleas.
If she could, she’d leave collateral, something valuable to him as a guarantee.
But she had nothing to offer Blayden, no possession of any worth in his eyes.
She had even tried to leave her father’s cloak behind and escape, so it was natural that Blayden didn’t trust her.
The thought stung, but she couldn’t deny its truth.
“Hearts change, and promises can be broken easily. Stop thinking nonsense and get some sleep.”
Blayden, speaking coldly, withdrew his hand and stood up, his towering figure a dark silhouette against the faint light from the window.
Leni quickly grabbed the hem of his pants as he tried to move away from the straw pile, a last desperate act.
“Please…”
As Blayden turned to her, lightning flashed outside the window, briefly illuminating the room.
In the searing streak of light that fractured the dark sky, Blayden’s eyes were seen to flicker, a momentary disturbance in their usual icy stillness.
Leni sat up, her posture pleading.
“Please have mercy. You know what it’s like to be separated from family.”
The words tumbled out, a desperate appeal to what she hoped was his empathy.
“What?” His voice was sharp, a warning she failed to heed.
“I know you were the Prince of Kiabec. Don’t you remember when you lost the war and became a prisoner?”
“Shut up!”
Blayden raised his voice, a roar that shook the flimsy walls of the attic.
But consumed by the thought of somehow eliciting sympathy, Leni failed to read his anger, pushing further into the dangerous territory she had stumbled upon.
“You lived happily, then had everything taken away and became a hostage. If you remember that time, please understand my situation—”
Blayden let out a harsh breath, a sound of pure fury, and grabbed her hair, his grip bruising.
As her head snapped back, there was a sharp clang of metal.
The sword, drawn from its sheath with terrifying speed, effortlessly cut through the air, a whisper of death.
Leni froze, every muscle in her body locking.
The fear of death pierced her body, a cold, agonizing prickle, and the back of her neck tingled with a terrifying awareness.
There was a thud from the straw pile behind her.
“Don’t speak so carelessly again.”
Blayden, who had issued the cold warning, withdrew the sword from her neck, the blade glinting faintly in the gloom.
Leni touched the back of her neck, her fingers trembling, and was horrified.
When she looked back, her hair lay on the cloak, a severed lock, stark against the dark fabric.
Thunder crashed outside the window, a booming echo of the violence that had just unfolded.
The white ribbon in her hair stung her eyes, a poignant reminder of a happier time.
It was Uncle Thomas’s birthday present.
Uncle’s warm heart was protecting me like a charm.
The thought was a cruel irony.
“My hair… you cut it.”
Her voice was a choked whisper of disbelief and pain.
“I’ve enlightened a slave who can’t grasp reality. From your head to your toes, everything you wear, everything you own, is mine. It’s my decision whether to cut it or stab it.”
His words were delivered with a brutal indifference, stripping her of every last shred of ownership.
It’s not yours!
It’s mine!
It’s my body, my heart!
Leni picked up her hair, the severed lock feeling alien and lifeless in her hand, and hugged it to her chest as if it were a dying young animal.
“Hic!”
Tears streamed down her face, hot and unchecked.
The afternoon she went to Shaphiro Market with Thomas, filled with simple joys, felt like an eternity ago, a distant, unreachable dream.
If she could return to the time she was happy with her loved ones, she felt she could do anything.
But there was no path back.
Too much had happened in just a few days, and the world she knew was out of reach, shattered beyond repair.
No matter how much she denied it, Blayden Rehart now held her life in his grasp.
What she wore, what she ate, where she slept—it all depended on his will, his cruel whims.
She couldn’t even leave this room without his permission, a prisoner in all but name.
“Have you realized what you did wrong? The sin of interfering in others’ affairs. The sin of carelessly showing kindness. The sin of believing what you saw and heard. The sin of overestimating your own intelligence. The sin of acting on your thoughts.”
An icy voice fell upon her trembling shoulders, each word a lash, flaying her self-worth.
Leni had no will to retort, no strength left for defiance.
She just curled her trembling body and sobbed, the tears a torrent of grief and despair.
It felt as if the world she knew had come to an end, swallowed by a darkness far deeper than the storm outside.
“Making such a fuss over just having your hair cut.”
His sneer was a final, cruel twist of the knife, but her crying didn’t stop.
Once the tears started, they flowed uncontrollably, soaking her cheeks, blurring her vision.
“Stop it!”
His angry shout didn’t register in her ears, lost in the overwhelming tide of her sorrow.
Wham! There was the sound of something hitting the wooden floor with brutal force.
Only then did Leni gasp and lift her head, her sobs hitching.
Beyond her blurred vision, she saw a sword standing tall in the darkness, its blade pointing ominously.
At the tip of the blade, shrouded in dark blue gloom, was a black mass.
Blayden lifted the sword and pointed its tip at her.
Leni almost screamed when she realized what the mass was, a guttural sound caught in her throat.
“Look closely. That’s your situation right now.”
The sword, skewering a large black spider like a skewer, was right before her eyes, its grotesque form horrifyingly clear.
“If you’re trampled and die here, no one will know. So, if you have the energy to cry, think. How will you stay alive? When your neck is cut, it’s already too late.”
Leni stared at the black death that consumed her vision, a chilling prophecy of her own precarious existence.
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