"Huh?" Ayesha blinked, her violet eyes flickering as she snapped out of her reverie. "Master, what did you say?" She asked, her voice tinged with confusion. She'd been lost in thought, consumed by how to erase the slave brand that marred her arm, and hadn't noticed the conversation around her.
"Are you feeling unwell?" Lucas asked, his brow furrowing with concern. Ayesha's behavior was strikingly out of character. Normally, the horned girl was the most enthusiastic about food, diving into meals with gusto. Today, she seemed like a different person, distant and subdued. His gaze drifted to the plate of rice rolls in the center of the table, still piled high with glistening strips, yet they failed to capture Ayesha's attention. Her violet eyes were clouded with a quiet sadness that tugged at his heart, convincing him something was wrong.
"No, really, I'm not sick," Ayesha said hurriedly, waving her hands in a flustered gesture. Her voice trembled slightly, betraying her anxiety. She couldn't bring herself to mention the slave brand—the indelible mark of her past that she feared would define her forever. Unless she could somehow remove it, anyone who saw it would know she was a slave, a truth she wasn't ready to share, even with those she trusted.
The triangular slave brand was a cruel emblem of this era, a universal symbol of servitude. In the wild, anyone bearing such a mark was fair game—either to be killed without consequence or captured and resold. Most branded slaves were assumed to be runaways, and no one would question their fate. The thought of that mark exposing her secret filled Ayesha with dread.
"Could it be a fever?" Lucas mused, his eyes narrowing as a possibility struck him. Perhaps Ayesha was avoiding the truth because she feared a doctor's visit—or, more specifically, a needle. It wouldn't be the first time someone in the castle dodged admitting they were unwell to avoid treatment.
Tap, tap, tap…
Lucas stood and walked toward Ayesha, his footsteps echoing softly on the stone floor. Her panicked expression only reinforced his suspicion that he was onto something.
"Master, I'm fine, really," Ayesha insisted, shaking her head vigorously. Her ample chest swayed with the motion, and her left hand instinctively clutched her right arm, hiding the brand. Her heart raced, a chaotic mix of fear and embarrassment swirling within her.
"Let me check," Lucas said with a gentle smile, undeterred by her protests. He reached out, brushing aside the purple hair that fell over her forehead, and leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers to gauge her temperature. His touch was warm, his breath soft and steady against her face.
Ayesha froze, her violet eyes wide as she stared at Lucas's face, so close she could see the depth in his dark, soulful eyes. His gentle, intimate gesture sent a flush of warmth across her cheeks, her heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. 'He's so kind,' she thought, her mind spiraling. 'His eyes are so captivating, and he smells so nice. He always makes sure I have extra food, like the hero in 'A Noble Girl's Love Diary.'' Her thoughts wandered to the romantic tales she'd read, where dashing lords swept maidens off their feet. 'He's like that… but no, Ayesha, you're just a slave. You're not worthy of him. No noble would marry a slave—they'd only…'
She shook her head, forcing the thought away. 'Stop it, Ayesha. The Master isn't like that. Don't let your mind run wild.' Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, torn between Bella's warnings that "men are all liars" and her own past experiences, which fueled her insecurities. The nightmares of the past few nights hadn't helped, leaving her sleep-deprived and emotionally frayed, especially after last night's vision of Lucas rejecting her.
"Hmm, no fever?" Lucas murmured, pulling back with a puzzled frown. He turned to Mina. "Mina, grab the thermometer." He wasn't entirely convinced, as Ayesha's forehead felt similar to his own, but a thermometer would provide a clearer answer.
"Got it!" Mina replied, her cat tail swishing as she darted off, her hips swaying with her usual energetic grace.
"Is Ayesha sick, Master?" Nicole asked, her voice laced with worry as she set down two fresh plates of rice rolls.
"We'll know once we check with the thermometer," Lucas said, shaking his head. He looked down at Ayesha, whose brows were knitted tightly, and gave her head a fond, reassuring pat. "No needles, I promise," He said with a warm smile.
"Mm-hmm!" Ayesha nodded, her gaze fixed on Lucas's kind, sunlit smile. The warmth in his expression calmed the storm in her heart, if only a little, and she sat quietly, her hands still.
"It's okay, Ayesha," Elisa said softly, sitting beside her and gently taking her right hand. Her grip was firm, comforting, but it made Ayesha's heart skip a beat as her branded arm was exposed.
"I'm fine, really," Ayesha said, her voice trembling slightly. She glanced down at her hand in Elisa's, her violet eyes flickering with unease. The weight of her secret felt heavier under her friend's touch.
Elisa's brows furrowed, sensing Ayesha's tension. The horned girl's usual boldness was gone, replaced by a guarded hesitance, as if she were hiding something she was ashamed of.
Moments later, Mina returned with a small medical kit, her cat ears perked as she rummaged through it and pulled out a thermometer. She'd learned to use it herself, a necessity in a castle full of women where Lucas couldn't handle every minor task.
"Ayesha, here, put this under your arm," Mina said, not waiting for a response. She slipped the thermometer through the collar of Ayesha's dress, navigating past her soft, ample curves to tuck it snugly under her armpit.
Ayesha's breath hitched, overwhelmed by the care and concern radiating from everyone around her. Their worry warmed her heart, lifting her spirits slightly, but the words she wanted to say—about the brand, the nightmares—remained stuck in her throat. For someone as straightforward as Ayesha, bottling up her troubles was a heavy burden, harder to shake off than most.
"It's okay," Lucas said gently, sensing her anxiety. "You're probably just exhausted."
"Mm-hmm," Ayesha nodded, forcing a small smile. She hadn't mentioned the nightmares, suddenly wondering if she was overreacting.
A few minutes passed, and Mina retrieved the thermometer, peering at it closely. "All good," She said with a relieved sigh. "No fever."
"That's great!" Elisa said, her face lighting up with relief.
"You're probably just tired," Nicole added, her tone firm but kind. She pushed a plate of rice rolls toward Ayesha. "Eat up, then rest."
"Okay," Ayesha said, her lips curving into a genuine smile. Her nose twitched as she inhaled the savory aroma of the rice rolls, her violet eyes brightening as she gazed at the food.
"Let's eat, everyone!" Lucas called out, his voice cheerful as he dug into his own plate, though his dark eyes lingered on Ayesha, noting her subdued demeanor.
"Finally!" Annie exclaimed, grabbing her chopsticks and diving in with gusto.
"These are really good," Elisa said, her pointed elf ears twitching with delight as she savored a bite.
"More!" Amelia demanded, pushing her empty plate toward Nicole. She'd already polished off her portion, her young face as serious as ever.
"I want more too!" Hazel chimed in, sauce smudging her lips. "A big portion—bigger than Amelia's!"
"Three portions," Amelia said coolly, undeterred.
Lucas couldn't help but laugh at the childish banter, a rare glimpse of Amelia's child self shining through her usual stoic demeanor.
The dining hall filled with the lively chatter of breakfast, the servants bustling about as Nicole ate while overseeing the preparation of more rice rolls. Yet Lucas's attention kept drifting to Ayesha. She'd eaten only a third of her usual amount, a stark contrast to her typical hearty appetite. His mind raced, searching for an explanation. 'Something's off,' he thought. Then it hit him—could it be that time of the month? He'd heard women sometimes acted differently during those days. Perhaps that was why Ayesha was so out of sorts.
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