176- The Beast and the Thorn
POV Aldren Valmorin:
I let my fury crackle in the air only after reaching the first floor and putting distance between myself and that miserable woman.
The servants I encountered in the corridor hid from me as if in a game of cat and mouse. No one dared approach me in that state—a state I had not been in for decades.
It took all my self-control to resist the urge to strangle her to death and silence that sharp tongue.
I cursed being caught off guard.
Of all the reactions I had expected from that prisoner, in none had I imagined finding her naked amid the wreckage of her own destruction. Nor could I ever conceive that my beast would feel compassion for her.
What kind of scheme was that? Since which century had my beast felt pity for spies? Or pity of any kind?
Fortunately, my self-mastery did not allow me to lose control in front of her.
Knowing no one would come near me, I headed toward the kitchen in search of Nerin. I took angry strides down the corridor until I entered the room with its polished wooden floor.
The heat from the wood-burning stove, which operated alongside another modern induction one, blew against my face. My sense of smell filled with the aroma of toasted garlic and fresh thyme.
She was storing some of my copper utensils in the drawers of the oak island positioned at the center, while the pots worked on the stove. When she noticed my presence, she startled, her eyes widening in a mix of fear and respect.
“You govern this house in my absence, and I have some orders to give you.”
“Of course, Lord Aldren.”
I walked to one of the wide counters of dark stone and solid wood, serving myself a glass of water. I downed it in one go, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Until nightfall, the prisoner will go hungry and thirsty,” I ordered, turning to her.
“Every day, sir?”
“Yes. Give her food and drink only at night, because I still need her alive.”
“And the mess she made?”
“Do not allow anyone to clean it; let her suffocate in her own clamor.”
My beast stirred within me, seeming to completely disagree with my decision. Hell. What kind of curse was that?
“Should I give her something to wear?”
Before I could answer, I heard Kehin’s voice behind me.
“Aldren?”
I ignored him.
“No, do not give her a single piece of clothing. I only allow you to replace the chamber pot; that place already stinks enough.”
Nerin accepted the orders and then invited Kehin to lunch. I glared at him reproachfully, and he declined the invitation upon sensing the rage blazing inside me. I passed by him, and he followed me through the corridors.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as I reached the living room.
“They told me you left the restricted area in a hurry. I was worried.”
“Go back to work.” I stopped beside the wide solid-wood door, gripping the handle, ready to return to my laboratory.
“Aldren, can we talk about Elowen?” It sounded almost like a plea.
“The prisoner is no longer your concern, Kehin.”
“I thought it through this morning, and I would like to ask you to let me handle her. I guarantee I can make her talk. That way, you rid yourself of this inconvenience. What do you think?”
His interference sounded like an affront. Having Kehin challenge me over the prisoner filled me with a mix of disbelief and anger; the ground beneath my feet seemed to have turned into thin ice.
“What did you say?” I wanted to make sure I had heard correctly.
“I offered to solve the problem. I know how important security is to us, Aldren, and we truly need to find out whether she is a spy or an innocent.”
I furrowed the center of my brow, exposing my complete disagreement.
“Spy or not, that insolent woman still violated my laws of territory and space. Do you think I cannot deal with her? Is that what you are trying to tell me with this absurd proposal?”
Kehin hastened to deny it, trying to justify himself. Irritated, I ordered him back to work and to mind his own life. His role, besides being my eyes and ears throughout the village, was to coordinate part of the guard.
I left him behind, slamming the door, tracing my path to my laboratory through my exclusive entrance, accessed from the house grounds at the end of the stone staircase.
I forced myself to respond courteously to the greetings of my outdoor employees who passed by me; after all, they bore no blame.
All I wanted at that moment was to bury myself inside my greenhouse and momentarily forget that my village might be under threat, along with the existence of a probable spy imprisoned in my basement.
Before returning to work, I met with my men to reinforce security. Everyone was aware that attention needed to be doubled since the last alarm sounded, but if I considered that my prisoner might be protected by some enemy pack, the village ran the risk of an attack.
The area of my laboratory was divided into three towers. The first was dedicated to storage, the middle one to research, and the third we called the restricted area, where, in fact, formulations were developed and tests conducted.
To the sound of a double beep, I entered my green refuge of advanced science, hoping my thoughts would soften.
There, technology intertwined with nature. Every work surface, polished to a mirror-like shine, reflected the green of the plants—the only witnesses to my experiments.
An almost imperceptible glass wall separated the area that could not be contaminated. In that space, the use of masks, gloves, and foot protection was required.
The shelves, strategically positioned, stored my arsenal of the most potent elixirs, displayed in meticulously labeled vials whose contents ranged from cloudy to crystalline.
The ceiling was composed of a web of artificial lighting. And, in an isolated corner, bars of light resembling the midday sun—essential for the accelerated growth of the rare plants I cultivated.
Nothing wasted, everything calculated.
Each small part integrated the perfect symbiosis between the advances of modernity and the mysteries of ancient botany.
For a few minutes, I persisted in focusing my attention on one of my infusions at the testing bench, but my mind insisted on reminding me of the prisoner.
There was nothing I could do at that moment. The wretch had just broken everything. It would be foolish to interrogate her again without wearing her down by exhaustion first.
Perhaps I would make another attempt at dawn, and perhaps her judgment would be restored as well, for her own sake.
I admitted defeat when I added the wrong mixture and nearly caused an explosion. My muscles were tense, my shoulders weighed tons, and my beast was restless.
That problem should not feel like a thorn embedded in my flesh and consciousness. It should not.
Yet I knew what I needed to release that tension—something from which I had been abstinent since the invasion.