Chapter 18
Lucas
The days crept by with no word of Natalia, though I had ordered only standard deprivation, nothing permanently damaging. Part of me was tempted to go observe her directly, but such irrational impulses needed to be mastered.
"No, I don't care. Attachment bred weakness." I yelled.
But the night the slave girl was finally dragged back into the kitchens, I arranged to be present. I told myself it was mere curiosity to see the effects of her punishment.
In truth, I needed to witness that essential fire still burning within her.
She's like motivation to me. The fire in the girls eyes never extinguishers. I bet her father must be a proud Alpha.
When Natalia was shoved stumbling into the room, I noticed immediately the vacancy in her hollow gaze, the way she moved automatically, numbly. This timid, broken creature barely resembled the girl who once gazed at me with such defiant pride.
The realization chilled me unexpectedly. But before I could examine it, the cook was berating Natalia for her useless state. When the girl simply stood mute beneath the lash of the woman's tongue, something tore free in me.
"Enough." My voice cut through the room like a knife, silencing the tirade instantly. All eyes turned to me in surprise as I rose slowly. Natalia's remained dull and downcast.
"That's quite enough," I repeated coldly, turning the force of my glare on the foolish cook. "Can you not see the girl is unwell? Take care not to damage my property further with your useless shrieking."
The cook paled and stammered appeasing apologies. But my focus was only on Natalia. This ghostly waif was alarming proof that perhaps I had pushed too far in zeal to conquer her irrepressible spirit.
It has to stop.
Stepping close, I lifted her chin with one finger, demanding her gaze. Those once fiery eyes were empty pools that reflected only my own face. The wrongness of it seeped under my skin like poison.
"What happened to you, little wolf?" I murmured, low enough so only she could hear. "Where has your fight gone?"
When she made no response, I dropped my hand, rattled in a way I did not understand. I had broken many before, but this felt different. Like having crushed a rare and beautiful bird under careless hands.
Watching Natalia shuffle brokenly back to work, I came to a decision. If some essential flame yet lingered within her, I would coax it back to life, not extinguish it fully. Having her spirit die felt too much like failure by my own hand. An unsettling notion.
Yes, I would go carefully from here, retaining only enough firmness to maintain obedience, but allowing gentler guidance when possible. Such softness was distasteful, but necessary if
Natalia was to heal from these wounds of the soul. I could not lose her fire completely. Both our sakes depended on it.
In the days that followed, I took pains to have Natalia assigned lighter duties away from the harshest slave overseers. The ones prone to abuse or cruelty found firm reprimand waiting from my hand. Let the wretches take out their grievances on me if they dared.
When Natalia inevitably crossed my path in her duties, I made a point to offer subtle kindnesses - extra food, blankets, healing salves. She received such gifts hesitantly, without gratitude or understanding, like a wounded animal too often kicked to trust an open palm. But I persevered.
Gradually, almost painfully, some dim flicker of animation returned to those empty eyes. She spoke softly to the older slave called Mary who had become her guardian. And she performed her work without the numb automation of one already dead.
The first time I glimpsed a flash of steel in Natalia's gaze again was during one of my training demonstration in the central square. A cocky young warrior had remarked lewdly on Natalia's exposed legs as she scrubbed stones nearby.
Before I could react, a piece of debris went sailing through the air to strike the oaf directly between the eyes. I whipped my head around and found Natalia glaring icicles, a silently vicious snarl on her lips.
It was only a brief moment before she ducked her head submissively again under the outraged shouts.
But that barely leashed rage reminded me forcefully of the formidable she-wolf who once looked me in the eye as an equal despite her chains. A worthy opponent to spar with, not break.
I found myself smiling for the first time in weeks. Truly, this tenacious slave girl was recuperating if she could muster even a shadow of her former defiance. It eased something in me I had not realized was drawn painfully taut.
Natalia's will to live burned again, and so perhaps things could one day return to the thrilling clash of wills between us that so ignited my own ambitions. The game was not done.
Watching her shuffle back to work with a trace of steel once more in her slender frame, I made a silent vow.
I would see Natalia healed fully in mind and spirit. And this time, I would temper the force of will we both wielded - not to destroy, but strengthen. Her unconquerable heart was too rare a treasure to be carelessly dashed upon the rocks. I would not make such mistakes again.
This she-wolf's fire was as vital to me now as my own. And together, we would forge something finer than either of us alone could become. Of that much, I was certain. The path would be neither gentle, nor kind. But it would make us worthy of the civilized power we each craved in our own way.
Some things were worth suffering for.
"Now, let's get her spirit back."