The weight of his words evoked a shudder in every muscle in her body. It ignited at the force of his dark promise, and slowly, her appetite shriveled again, not out of fear of death but of the awful crawling awareness of what he could do without ever laying a single finger.
At that moment, Lucrezia was convinced her body was not a threat but her soul.
How would she survive when she could barely survive the threat in his words and worse from his gaze?
Those Hazel eyes pinned her to the spot, as if he could detect every muscle in her body that was priming to bolt. Lucrezia quickly avoided her gaze, avoided those strange burning eyes that focused on her as she picked up the fork so he wouldn't see her hands that had begun to shake.
But the other part of her, the one clutching the empty ache in her belly, half-glared at the meal it was the enemy. If only she weren't starving, he wouldn't find a reason to control her.
And God help her she survives this red breakfast.
Firstly, Lucrezia unconsciously flared her nostrils as she sniffed the food on her plate. No stench of magic. Or poison. Not like the strongest ones could be perceived but perhaps… perhaps he didn't lie. What would he gain if he killed her? There were still… more achievable things than death. So he had to be right about the food then, and she took the smallest bite of the carrots.
It was an effort to keep from grunting; its warm, sweet, spiced with cinnamon and a touch of clove drove her into euphoria.
She hadn't had food this good in years. Even the meals she had at the Red Keep were little more than ashes compared to this, and her eyes fluttered closed despite herself. Those were leftovers, and it was those leftovers that kept her sustained, and she granted the wish of her eager stomach.
Lucrezia didn't realize how fast she was eating until she looked up and found him watching. She froze, hand still halfway to her mouth.
He didn't look with the kind she expected; mocking, smug, disgusted, perhaps irritated in the manner which a supposed Lady should eat. Instead, he watched, as if cataloging every move of his least prey, and her stomach twisted.
But he had already turned his attention back to his plate with an unreadable expression, letting silence stretch the room. "I suppose there wouldn't be any leftovers. You are well capable of storing the remnants,"
For the nth time, heat spiraled across her face in shame as she took another bite, slower this time, and didn't respond.
Not because she didn't have words. But for once, she wasn't sure they'd come out with her pride still intact, and her mission still stable by the shadow of his void.
He said nothing more. And that silence—his silence—was the worst of it all.
They ate in quietness. The only sound in the room was the clinking of cutlery against ceramic and the muted crackle of firewood burning behind the hearth.
Lucrezia kept her eyes on her plate, chewing slowly and carefully. She had no intention of enjoying this meal, and yet it was hard not to. The spices were perfect, the meat tender, and the warmth spreading through her body like a spell.
At that moment, she blamed the years confined in the tower of the Red Keep, and the days that passed by. It must've taken her appetite, her sense of taste into thin air, but now replaced and reminded with a taste of something far better. Like the meal before her.
She dared glance at him, noting the calmness in his features. Again, the stories must've been wrong. The things written in the tome were far dissimilar to what she saw. But the coldness in his expression, the lack of life in those eyes, couldn't be mistaken.
Sins don't have life.
A knock interrupted the silence, breaking her reverie. "Come in," and his voice echoed like a distant chill.
The heavy door opened without hesitation and someone walked in, the soft rhythm of his boot breaking against the marble floor, echoing in the room. Lucrezia didn't raise her eyes yet, from the corner of her vision, she caught the shadow stretching long and dark across the illuminated hall as the newcomer approached the head of the table.
From her angle, she could make out his silhouette; tall, broad-shouldered with the posture of a man born to command. He removed his helmet, revealing his face, and Lucrezia peered through her long lashes, recognizing the man who had welcomed her days ago.
The beautiful blonde-haired.
With his helmet secured on one arm, the pommel of his sword peeking through the side, he wore a tunic of blue and grey with the golden crest of House Dreadwyn embroidered on it. A member of the Lord's army then, and high ranking if he was walking freely around the estate.
And to think she thought of him to be one of the servants.
He exuded the aura of a commander, another whole different spirit from the one who welcomed her. This was of purpose, seriousness… and definitely something important.
"My Lord," he bowed, his voice monotone but light. "A message from the Seven. You're being summoned to the Crept of Blackvale by the Nameless King himself." Lucrezia kept her eyes fixed on the plate before her, but somehow, the food suddenly felt like ashes in her gut at the tribute of that name. Nameless King?
Initially, she was nonchalant about his presence or the purpose of his arrival, but suddenly, her attention was caught by the information.
"He extends his congratulations on your wedding and deems your presence non-negotiable… and that of the Lady herself," he said, and held out a sealed parchment, the black wax bearing an unfamiliar sigil of a serpent swallowing its tail, belonging to whom was referred as the 'Nameless King'.
Lucrezia's heart galloped from her chest at the mention of her name and lowered her gaze to the half-finished meal on the table. The food suddenly felt heavy on her stomach the more she tried to force it down her throat, but she swallowed anyway, pretending deafness and calm, though her pulse thudded beneath her skin.
The faint crack of the wax echoed in the room when Lord Vaeron broke the seal. Those cold eyes scanned the letter in a breath time, like someone who'd done it a thousand times already. His face remained unyielding, yet the air shifted around him with something unseen but palpable, causing a sudden drop in temperature that pressed down upon the room.
Lucrezia dared a glance across the table, noticing that expression carved from stone, but beneath the immovable calm, she sensed unease, perhaps anger.
If she had learned anything about this creature in the few days since her arrival, it was that stillness from him meant danger, judging from his arrival at Veximoor.
Lucrezia could feel the darkness in his gaze at every breathless second until he finalized its content. More than ever, she wanted to know what it contained, but at the same time, dreaded it.
How was she to spy on a creature that didn't seem like one to leave a single trace uncovered? Was there indeed any weakness in a Sin?
If she wanted to gather information that could save her kind—House Barthory's, to be precise—she needed to survive with this new change. Although the continent was foreign to her, 'Blackvale' seemed like a perfect spot to carry out this ruse. But that name… she'd heard it before in hushed tones from travelers on the road north.
But little did Lucrezia know the danger of what was coming.
He refolded the letter slowly, deliberate in each motion, and placed the parchment beside his goblet, letting silence settle in a dense yet suffocating manner.
Somewhere within, Lucrezia could predict his response. There was some sort of irritation in his eyes, especially in the manner he opened his mouth to reject-
"Prepare the carriage and horses. We leave by first light."
Lucrezia froze, uncertain she had heard him correctly, but when the man nodded stiffly in response, it dawned on her.
The blonde-haired leaned closer, stepping beside the Lord and whispering something that did not reach Lucrezia's ears. Whatever was spoken drained the last warmth from the air when Lord Vaeron's eyes grew cold, but he did not respond. The messenger bowed low, then turned and left, the echo of his boots receding into silence.
When the door closed, only the faint sound of cutlery against ceramics—from her actually—remained as she pretended not to have heard a single word from the conversation earlier.
Lord Vaeron lifted his goblet and drained it, the dark wine staining his lips like blood. There was this unsettling darkness wrapping his figure like a cloak when he set it down and rose from his seat, towering. No matter how many times she tried to get used to his height, it was impossible, as the weight of his presence filled the hall.
He crossed to the door without another word, pausing only long enough to say, "Wear something warm," and she blinked, watching his retreating form that didn't turn when he added, "We'll be leaving by first light. The roads to Blackvale are merciless."
That was all he said, and before she could respond, he turned and left, leaving her curiosity unquenched.
The moment the door shut, Lucrezia released a breath she hadn't known she was holding and stared down at her plate.
Her appetite had fled entirely, leaving only the sour taste of unease. Still, she remained seated for some time, suspended in the hollow quiet of his absence.
For the first time since her arrival, the room felt hers, though she could not find comfort in it. It was only when the sun took cover behind the cloud, and the fire from the hearth burned low, did she finally rose.
Lucrezia moved slowly, her hand grazing the cold marble rail as she descended the staircase. The corridors beyond were long and dim, lined with portraits and the painting on the walls stretching out before her. She'd always wanted to know what the paintings were all about and made way to the first one at her left.
At first, she could do nothing but stare at its size, at the ambition of it, at the fact that this masterpiece was tucked back here for no one to ever see, as if it was nothing, absolutely nothing, to create something like this.
The day she arrived was the day the paintings caught her interest. Not the regular kind she'd seen before from the castle in House Barthory, but a captivating yet odd manner of masterpiece in which it was portrayed.
The elucidation of daylight shone brightly on the path when she neared with her soft almost unnoticeable footsteps echoing faintly in the silent hall. Lucrezia stopped just a few inches away from the painting, expecting to see a clearer version of what was seen weeks ago, however, what stared back was a blank massive expanse.
Her brows furrowed in confusion as she blinked, certain she may've mistaken, but its emptiness welcomed her once again. When she looked at the one beside it, it was the same. They were all the same.
She should've gone to her chambers but something within her restricted the confinement of it and she sought the garden. She was nearly there when the quietness fractured.
As if to prove her right, she heard voices floating from the courtyard below, strong with that familiar unsettling sense of something wrong, and she followed the path through the corridor.
Lucrezia halted, pressing herself to the wall near the window, until the voices became clearer. Then, there was another sound, like a snarl, a low rumble of something neither human nor tame, and she edged closer to the window.
Outside, under the sunlight's pall, the courtyard was alive with motion when six guards stood behind a beast as it writhed and snapped, its fangs dripping with saliva and bloodlust eyes.
They didn't try to hold it, but it seemed it was withheld by an invincible magic, judging from its monstrous strength despite the deep gashes marring its white fur.
From her angle, she caught the full view of the beast—tall as a man even on its knees, shoulders broad, and claws gouging the cobblestone as it fought, struggling to gain leverage.
The beast was no other than a werewolf. And it was… young.
There was something strangely familiar about the presence. And as if it heard her, those glacial red eyes turned, fixing on hers, and Lucrezia's blood chilled.
It was no other than Madelyn.