066

066


Isolde

“I’ve never felt so stupid in my life!” Isolde hissed under her breath as she hastened out of the castle, bunching her dress in her hands.

She ignored all the servants and sentinels bowing at her as she walked away, her feet clomping with vengeance over the floor.

What was she thinking? That the monster would come groveling after reading her note?

Did he even read it?

And look how she wasted effort preening herself to the nines to look charming, only for the male to ignore her.

But he was talking to others. Talking to her sister!

Isolde wasn’t jealous! No, she couldn’t be, not when she hated that man. Hated his guts.

“I guess he deserved death after all,” she murmured under her breath again, her thoughts running a mile a minute.

Isolde couldn’t tame her wildly beating heart when she saw him. It was the first time she had seen him since he was poisoned. She thought the poison would’ve made him lose a touch of his good looks, but surprisingly, he was even hotter now.

The way he was looking glorious in that shining black armor made Isolde itch to reach his stead and run her tongue all over his skin.

No, don’t think such filthy thoughts, Isolde! She chided herself, shaking her head.

Isolde shoved through the streets blindly. Only her and her thoughts over all else.

The streets of Abbator were buzzing even though it was already nightfall.

As it was in the castle, no male dared to approach Isolde now to harass her. Everyone took the law seriously, and it made Isolde feel safe. At least, she could walk around now with no one leering at her.

She basked in the cool evening air as it wisped past her skin and hair.

The vendors’ voices penetrated past her fog of thoughts, making her aware of her surroundings again.

Isolde began to enjoy the view of the brightly lit streets and the people in it.

She loved seeing the males walking their youngling pups around, chattering with them.

It made her smile. Isolde paused in between when she saw a pup not older than three pricing a wooden doll with her papa.

“Can I have it for one silver coin?” she heard the male say as she advanced towards them.

“I’m sorry. It costs ten silver coins, sire,” the vendor insisted.

When it dawned on the pup her papa wouldn’t afford it, she started to cry. There was this joy it gave Isolde to see a young female pup in a world filled with males.

She now understood the importance of the breeding system Abbator adopted. It may not be conventional, but it was helpful. At least, it made them have a younger generation of females, even if the population was still small.

Just as the male and his pup were about to leave, Isolde called out.

“I will pay for it.”

The male paused with his pup in his arms, looking stunned at Isolde. The way she was dressed told them all they needed to know.

She was the lord’s soon-to-be luna.

“My lady,” the male bowed as did the vendor. “Thank you, my lady, but you don’t have to.”

Isolde approached them, touched the pup’s cheek, and beamed. Looking back at the father, she said. “It’s my decision, sire. I’ll give her what she wants.”

Clearly, Isolde doesn’t have the coin with her, and so she reached for her necklace and unclasped it, handing it to the vendor whose eyes were wide open.

“My…lady,” he gasped, staring between the royal necklace and Isolde.

“I believe you know the worth. Give her everything she wants in exchange for the necklace.”

“Aye, my lady. Aye,” the vendor chanted and began to bustle around as the pup made her choice of dolls.

“My lady,” the pup’s father called, going on his knees. “Thank you so much….”

“You’re welcome. I know it cost you a fortune to have the pup. Do all you must to take good care of her,” she said, earning a brisk nod from the father.

Isolde left that side of the street and continued wandering until she came to an outdoor tavern brimming with males enjoying ales as they sang and frolicked.

The attendants there had their mouths over the cocks of some of the males that had paid to have them.

The air there was energetic, much to her liking. Hence, Isolde ventured closer.

The males sang, groaned, and drank.

She silently went over to the empty table and took a seat. The bartender came and respectfully asked Isolde what she would want.

“I want gruit ale. The one mixed with some mugwort, yarrow, and wild rosemary,” she listed offhand, shocking the bartender.

It was hard to see someone who knew the details of ales.

“My lady, how did you know the exact flavors of gruit ale?” he flushed, blinking wildly. The bartender panted. “I’m so sorry, my lady. But I’ve been struggling to know the right flavors to mix for my customers, but I keep failing all the time.”

“Really?” she asked.

Isolde was equally surprised at how she called the whole thing offhand. Her eyes brightened at the male’s next words.

“Please, my lady, do you mind teaching me how to mix flavors for each ale?”

She blinked once or twice and then nodded, “Sure, I can.”

Glad, she placed her hand on the bartender’s outstretched hand and followed him behind the counter, where she began to expertly mix the ale for the customers.

The singing, dancing, and orders for ale increased, shocking the owner.

“More ale!”

“Please fill my tankard more!!”

“Damn, the ale is freaking nice!”

All the males began to comment, getting drunk.

It gave them more energy to frolic, dance, and sing. Isolde happily served them drinks, and all the males began to chant her name, converting it into a beautiful chorus.

“Luna Isolde!”

“Best ale maker!”

“With the most beautiful bosom…”

“Her face glitters like the sun…”

“Her hair, a lovely cascade of silk, it blesses my palms with its softness…”

“Her teeth shine like the star in the sky…”

They all held their tankards, singing and dancing around Isolde, both the naked and the clothed ones, as the orchestra played their instruments in rhythm with the song.

Isolde’s heart bloated with joy. This was the first time she had been this happy since being in Abbator.

She no longer felt like a captive. The males no longer wanted to have her head.

She giggled and danced to the happy tune, her waist wiggling.

She became so happy that Isolde then joined them in drinking and chattering.

“I got drunk on the ship to the west!!! And then I slept with the sailor’s wife!” one of the males roared, drinking as others laughed.

Isolde laughed too, enjoying their company.

“What did she say about your cock?” another of the males asked the one telling his story as they all laughed.

“Oh my, males from the north have better, skilled cocks, hahaha…”

They all laughed again, even Isolde. Their voices thundered.

“I bet she’s going to come sailing north now, haha,” the roars of laughter continued as everyone drank and talked. No one dared to harass Isolde. Some kept their hands on her shoulder while they talked, and others bought more ale for her until she got drunk.

As the moment carried on, the males suddenly stopped their chatter. The once buzzing outdoor tavern became as silent as a crypt when they felt a presence in the tavern.

Everyone bowed and bared their necks, confusing Isolde. She turned her head, curious only to see him.

The lord.

And he had a murderous look on his face when he saw one of the males keeping his arm on Isolde’s shoulder. She smiled drunkenly at Draco, who, with gritted teeth, stormed towards the male holding Isolde.

The male seemed to realize his mistake a little too late as Draco reached him and nabbed him by his collar and raised him in the air, growling.

“On whose command are you touching my woman?”

TBC.