029
Isolde.
Isolde turned with a wince in front of the mirror, watching the bloody carving on her torso. For several days now, she'd been observing that carving on her skin. The word 'Mine'. It scared and confused her why Draco would brand her in such a manner. It didn't make sense to her. However, Isolde felt the fear of permanently being owned by Draco. The thought of it equally scared and excited her.
Her rational mind was totally against it. The male had taken too much from her already, and Isolde wouldn't relent from making him pay.
Her blue eyes, glistening brightly under the sun, stared through the mirror again at the carving. The skin there had become bumpy and delicate, paler than the rest of her skin, a permanent scar and reminder of Draco's savagery.
After engraving the word on her, he had left her there to perish, or so she thought, until Roga came in and wordlessly fitted her into a robe, and with the help of sentinels, carried her out.
Isolde sequestered herself in her chambers, mourning some of her rights and senses she'd lost to Draco. How could she have allowed herself that momentary pleasure with him when he was hurting her with his dagger? How could she have felt the need to orgasm under such torment? Isolde chided herself for the past few days, hating that she nearly lost herself to Draco's dark web.
Never again would she let that happen. She pulled down her undergarment and went in for a bath. The day was bright, sputtering under the influence of the sun. The air pristine. So, Isolde knew it'd do her no good if she continued to seclude herself here.
It was actually a surprise to her that Draco didn't come barging on the door and commanding her to come out, given he's her owner. She scoffed at the last word and submerged under the water.
The carving still stung but not as much anymore. Roga had brought one male she called a healer. The old male had attended to the wound, giving it some ointment that drastically reduced the pain.
She dressed up in a flimsy powder blue dress right after and exited the room. She had nowhere in mind, but her legs guided her into the kitchen.
The strong flavors of the meals being prepared penetrated her nose the closer she got. Murmurs and chatters greeted her when she paused at the door of the big kitchen.
Isolde was surprised to see the hundreds of males there cooking food under the strict guidance of Roga.
She walked further into the kitchen, the males sneering at her. It was no news most of the males hated the lord having a breeder. They loved his relationship with Edrand and wished for both males to say the vows and be together.
When they heard Edrand, under Draco's command, had asked for Isolde to be locked in the Viper's Mouth, they were happy, believing she wouldn't make it out. Seeing her now grated on their nerves.
Isolde stopped in her tracks when she heard them snickering at her. Her blood pumped with anger, and she swiftly turned to them and growled out, "What's funny?" She spat. Her high inflection attracted the others' attention.
"Nothing," one of the males let out, fighting to hide his mock smile.
"Nothing and you're stifling a laugh?" She growled, stepping forward into the male's space. Roga bristled as she watched Isolde, her heart pattering against her chest.
"Can't a male laugh anymore? Phew, you humans end up forgetting your place in this tower whenever you're made...a Luna and breeder." The male boldly spat. His words ignited Isolde's rage. Hell's scorn, her heart hadn't hammered like it was doing now in the days she secluded herself in her chambers.
The male continued his mock words, earning a stifled laugh from the others. "But the truth is you all are nothing but the lord's whore! And just like the others, you'll end up disappearing in a flash."
Having reached her limit, Isolde raised her hand to slap the male. Just an inch away from connecting her palm to his face, a voice thundered.
"Seems someone wants to spend a day in the Hole after enjoying the Viper's Mouth."
Isolde drew back and nestled her burning gaze on Edrand. He wore a white robe with golden embroidery and white breeches. His lips were dabbed with lipstick, making them shiny. His hair perfectly gelled and pulled away from his temple.
He looked to be dressed for an occasion, but Isolde knew this was all his charade in making the lord attracted to him.
She ground her teeth and sneered, trading looks between Edrand and the male that insulted her.
She thought against attacking the male to avoid further punishment. Hence, she scoffed at Edrand and turned to leave.
Surprisingly, she stumbled face-flat on the ground as the male cunningly put out his foot for her to trip.
A round of mock laughter rang out in the kitchen, booming and jarring. Edrand stifled a laugh too as he watched her groan and roll on the floor helplessly.
"Aww, the breeder has fallen. Come on, come on, help her up," he gestured to the males, snickering.
One pushed forward, saying to Isolde, "Let me help you, my lady?" He offered, voice devoid of mockery. Face sincere.
Isolde blinked away the tears clinging to her lashes and reached out for his hand. As she was about to rise up, the male slipped his hand away again, making her fall with a more forceful thud than before. Pain spiked her body. She sputtered and coughed.
She was a fool to have trusted the male. They all seemed to take Edrand's side. Their laughter flushed her with embarrassment. Manageably, she rose to her feet. With gritted teeth, she shot daggers at Edrand and his supporters before she fled from the kitchen.
"Look, she's running away like a scared cat." Edrand's voice echoed. They laughed harder at that.
"But she wanted to hit someone like a hound earlier," another of the male servants thundered, and a chorus of mock-laugh followed.
Isolde fled down the hall, grounding her eyes from releasing any tears. She moved past the sentinels until she appeared before the fountain in one of the lower houses in the castle.
She'd never seen a fountain before, she told herself, but the closer she got, the more familiar the fountain appeared. She outstretched a hand, letting the cool water slip through her fingers. The coolness of it calmed the raging hotness she felt inside.
She'd never felt so embarrassed her whole life. She hated Edrand, and she wanted him to burn, to be exterminated from existence.
"My lady," Isolde bristled under Roga's voice. Whirling her head, she looked the older female in the face before jerking her face away.
She still remembered how Roga refused to speak the truth to the lord, which landed her in a grave punishment.
Roga tottered closer, keeping a little distance between them.
"I know you're mad at me," she started, but Isolde intercepted her.
"I do not wish to speak with you, Roga. Go away."
Roga didn't budge. She stood her ground, looking at the side of Isolde's face. Her eyes were glued to the crystal water. She studied her reflection, uncaring about Roga.
"You don't understand, do you?" Roga voiced out.
Brows crinkling, Isolde turned to look at the female. "Understand what?" Her voice was high-pitched. She jolted as Roga came closer and hissed.
"Why I didn't speak up! I had to do it unless..." she trailed off. Dread brimmed her expression, making Isolde frown.
"Unless what?" she encouraged the scared woman. Roga exhaled a long string of breath, then.
"Unless master Edrand will force himself on my son!"
Isolde blinked, her face went pale with surprise at what she had just heard.
"What?" She gasped, eyes owl wide.
TBC.