Epilogue

Ithan Ima of the Plum Blossom Clan sat in the study of his private home, a single candle burning at the corner, causing shadows to flicker across his face. He drummed the fingers of one hand slowly against the lacquered surface as he considered the events that had taken place between the king and his son and the Astmenai slave.

He rarely made mistakes, but keeping the white-haired woman as a slave within the citadel had certainly been one. He’d enjoyed the thought of keeping her nearby after the raiding party had gone so wrong, had thought that it would entertain him to know that someone whose life he’d destroyed would be within the citadel, within his reach should he desire.

And it had been. He hadn’t been wrong about that part. It had been the only reason he’d occasionally gone by the kitchens on the pretense of meeting with the Kitchen Steward instead of calling the old man to his office, just so that he could get a glimpse of her as she rushed back and forth with her tasks.

It had also been why he’d denied all of Shubert’s requests to promote her. It pleased him to know that the once tribal princess was now nothing more than a kitchen drudge and he relished the fact that every facet of her existence lay within the palm of his hand to do with as he pleased.

That idiot, Jerrek Pirz, had destroyed all of it with his foolish attempt to rape the Astmenai slave. It had brought the woman to the attention of the crown prince and worse, they had been blessed and bonded by Selene. The odds of that were incalculable and had never been something he had factored into his plans.

And to make matters worse, she had been marked by the goddess herself, a sigil emblazoned across her skin to show the world that she was Selene’s chosen vessel. Why the goddess had done so was beyond his comprehension, but the reason mattered less than it meant that she was damned near untouchable.

And now, after that ridiculous display with the king and the statue of Selene and Leto coming alive to proclaim protection of the woman from Astmenai, it was acknowledged that she was wed to the crown prince. Should she speak of the raiding party, it was possible that the crown prince would investigate as he knew full well that raiding parties were not permitted and that it was illegal to remove slave collars from the Pack’s territory. An investigation into that matter would certainly bring questions to his doorstep since he, as the seneschal, was in charge of all slave procurement matters.

His fingers continued their slow staccato on the desk as he pondered his options. There had to be a way to destroy the woman without it coming back to him.

He sat in silence, the gloom around him deepening as the candle burned down to a stub. When a possible solution to his worries came to him, a slow smile bloomed on his lips. If anyone had seen that smile, their blood would have curdled from the sheer evil on display.

Satisfied that he had arrived at a solution, he decided it was time to have a bit of fun. Reaching into his mouth, he removed first the top denture and then the bottom denture that he habitually wore to hide his real teeth and set them on the desk.

Standing, he moved to a bookshelf and pressed a hand against it, his aura being the only thing that would activate the magic, causing the bookshelf to slide silently aside to reveal a set of stone stairs leading down into darkness. He smiled a bit as he thought, not for the first time, that it was a fitting metaphor for what he was about to do.

He descended the stairs, navigating through the dark comfortably for he’d been down these steps hundreds, maybe even thousands of times. When he reached the landing at the bottom, he reached out a hand and unerringly found the candle and matches he preferred over electric light. He’d considered having electricity installed in his home, but had decided he preferred candlelight. It somehow made everything more beautiful, ethereal even.

He lit the candle and then touched the orb that would return the bookshelf to its original position and restore the magical perimeter that would ensure that no sound left this dank, dark dungeon. Picking up the candle, he moved to the center of the room, briefly illuminating the wall that held neatly arranged racks of tools that he’d designed and commissioned himself for the sole purpose of inflicting pain. Most of the implements were made of regular metal, but some were of silver for when he was feeling particularly brutal.

He came to a stop at the center of the room, standing before a vertical slab of wood that had been drenched in blood so many times that it was stained black no matter how many times he rinsed it off. Attached to manacles at each corner was a woman, unconscious from the drugs that had been pumped into her veins so that she could be transported here in silence. Her head hung down and her long black hair dangled in shiny black waves over the blues that she wore.

He set the candle down on a small table next to the slab and with a gentle touch, he took her by the chin and lifted her head up so that he could see her face, using his other hand to brush aside the loose locks of hair that had fallen over her features. She was plainer than he preferred, but there had been something in her eyes that had called to him when he had seen her; something that called to him and that he wanted to destroy.

The woman’s eyelids began to flutter and her head jerked from side to side as she began to wake up. She licked her lips and her voice came out in a mumbling croak as she asked, “Where… where am I? Water… please.”

The seneschal didn’t answer and waited patiently for a few minutes as the drug continued to wear off and the woman became more alert. When her eyes fully opened, she stared at the seneschal, blinking hard as if to clear blurriness from her vision.

Her voice was a little clearer when she again asked where she was. Instead of answering her, he picked up the candle again and brought it up so that she could see his face. He smiled, revealing the filed points he’d created himself so many years ago when his passions had become too hard to ignore. The woman stared as if she didn’t understand what she was seeing.

Playfully, he clicked his teeth together twice in a chomping motion and that seemed to get through to the woman’s drug-addled mind. Her eyes grew wide in fear and she began to tremble.

His smile grew wider as the kindness that had initially called to him flickered and died in her eyes as she began to understand what was about to happen to her. He decided that he would leave her eyes for last so that she could see everything that he was going to do to her.

When he moved in closer to her, she flinched away, turning her head to the side with a whimper and shutting her eyes tight.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, enjoying the taste of blood that bloomed in his mouth as the tip of his tongue tore open against the sharpened edge of one tooth. Now that just wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t be as enjoyable if she didn’t watch.

He reached for the end of the thick chain that dangled to one side of the slab and crossed it over her forehead, forcing her face forward with his other hand as he attached a link of the chain to a hook embedded in the wood.

He tugged at the chain to make sure that it was tight and satisfied that it was secure and that the woman wouldn’t be able to move her head again, he took up an orb from the small table and waved it over the slave collar wrapped around her neck. There was a small click as the magic unlocked the collar and he removed it from her neck, tossing it into a far corner where it clanged as it landed on a pile of slave collars that had accumulated there over the decades.

He sighed in disappointment. As soon as the collar had unlocked, he could tell that the woman had very little in the way of power. He favored the strong ones as their wolf healing powers prolonged his game, but he would still find a way to enjoy this woman.

He moved over to an apothecary cupboard that he’d brought down here to hold his smaller items such as fish hooks and vials of acid and bottles containing silver dust. The last two were special favorites of his that he sometimes used separately and sometimes combined. When he mixed them and poured them down the throats of his victims, their screams were particularly delicious as the acid and silver corroded the flesh within them as it slid all the way down to their stomachs.

He shuddered at the memory of the last time he’d performed that particular act, his cock hardening almost instantly at the recollection. Alas, this woman likely wouldn’t survive such attention due to her weak wolf. Perhaps next time he’d be luckier and find someone with more Kin power.

He rummaged through several drawers until he found what he was looking for and removed two needles made of pure silver, each longer than his thumb. He returned to the woman and using the fingers of one hand, he pulled her top eyelid up tight. She tried to move away, but the chain held her in place. He brought up his other hand and held the needle up in front of the woman’s face. She began to sob and beg him not to hurt her.

Grinning, his madness bright in his eyes, he tutted at her. “Now, now, this is going to pinch.”

Her cries turned to screams as he set about his work. He savored the screams like they were the finest wine instead of sounds of anguish, pain and fear.

Yes, he would find a way to enjoy this woman, that much was certain.

The End.