Lucrezia's breath hitched in response.
She swallowed down the last trace of hope that clung to her tongue and watched him walk away.
He seemed to bend, shift, and disimbue gravity on his own accord. Only when his back was turned did air rush back into her lungs once more in a sharp and trembling manner.
The food she had eaten earlier suddenly felt like ashes in her stomach when she clutched her skirt and dragged her feet, quickly following after him.
Something told her something was definitely wrong somewhere. She could feel it, even more the closer they passed through corridors and stone floors. Lucrezia has never felt this hopeless, vulnerable, and the urgency to see someone than now.
She badly wanted to see Madelyn, to confirm with her own eyes that the impossible sight she'd glimpsed from above had not been some cruel illusion, and the only way to do so was by obeying.
Her pulse thudded in her ears as the great doors groaned open ahead of them. Beyond, the courtyard stretched wide, and Lucrezia's fingers trembled as she stepped past the towering arch that opened it, encircled with armored figures whose blades gleamed in the shards of sunlight.
For the first time in two days, Lucrezia finally breathed beyond the walls of her room, however, the air was thick with that feel of something wrong. The feel of black magic.
Initially, it wasn't what grabbed her attention but the clear vision of a white wolf struggling against the invincible bind holding it in place.
Madelyn.
It took every willpower in her not to thrash forward and wrap her arms around her. Just like he predicted that reaction, a firm hand grasped her arm, grounding her in place, and her eyes stung in unshed tears.
Bound to the stone dais at the center, her wolf form trembled in the cruel grip of invisible bindings. The marks across her flank shimmered faintly where magic had burned through her skin, burning further, eliciting more and more unbearable sound from her throat.
"Beautiful, isn't she?"
The voice, smooth as sin and evil wrapped in every word, coiled from behind her. She didn't even hear him turn when her attention had been solely fixed on the white wolf before her.
Lord Vaeron stood, tall and faultless, his gold-etched mask glinting like the face of a false god as he stepped closer until she could feel the cold of him through the silk of her gown.
But all Lucrezia could see truly, was the pain curling every edge of Madelyn's wolf form, sending a wave of despair through her body and her knees weakened.
Every instinct screamed at her to run, to shield Madelyn, to undo what had already been set into motion.
"That is called Noctom, string of the Hallowed, a magic a hundred times powerful to capture beasts of any kind. The more you fight it, the more gradually it weakens your body,"
Lucrezia's face paled at the information and her eyes flickered to his briefly, returning to the persistent white-wolf. Its furs was darkened by blood, and the fresh smell of blood oozed into the air.
"Noctom had been specially designed for werewolves, trapping their companion so they wouldn't shift back. It surges the body with immense strength at first, until it shifts, weakening the wolf at the end. It slowly corrupts the mind, and then its soul. A fastest way to trap the body, and the slowest way to kill one,"
Lucrezia stiffened, growing even paler as she watched the young wolf struggle. Her breath quickened in growing dread, but she couldn't do more than watch, which was becoming more than an eyesore.
"The cycle repeats and repeats, and repeats, until nothing but broken limbs and corpse is left,"
As if on cue, the white wolf's distraught scream pierced the air as it thrashed and snapped, baring its fangs dripping with saliva and blood-lustered eyes toward Lord Vaeron.
Lucrezia couldn't breathe anymore, her whole body already shaking from fear but rooted to the ground. The tears she'd prevented for so long spilled across her pale face as she watched the white wolf scream in a heart-wrenching pain, almost matching the one in her chest.
"Please…" she breathed, unable to stand it anymore.
God knows how much she wanted to stop this, stop everything from happening. It was happening so fast she couldn't process anything apart from the pain and the distraught young wolf was passing through. That young wolf is her friend.
More than ever, Lucrezia longed to turn back time, to plead with her not to come, but the moment had already slipped beyond reach. Admitting it was something Lucrezia simply couldn't bear.
He looked at her pale face, "Don't plead yet, Blue. We haven't even enjoyed the entertainment," It was devilishly calm and final, but it held a tinge of some mischievousness.
But Lucrezia couldn't find any amusement or so-called entertainment in the pain of her friend but that couldn't be said of the Devil's
Incarnates. They always found pleasure and thrill in the misery of others.
And that included hers.
Beneath the golden mask, she felt the weight of his smirk, and her heart clenched so violently she thought it would burst.
Why…? She badly wanted to ask. Why derive such amusement in watching people suffer?
"Your father must think highly of himself by creating a siege between fate and punishment by giving his beloved daughter to the hands of death," his tone dripped with malignancy and venom at the mention. It sounded almost conventional and the white wolf's ragged breath followed after the short silence.
"For years, every kind was given freedom and mercy they desired, until they pivoted against one another. Your kind against your kind, and against another, until it's nothing but innocent souls in the cruel hands of death, and wicked ones in its merciful claws. But what King Vladimir failed to understand or rather, realized at the end," he passed a cold look at the wolf and his tone lowered in the most dangerous and unmerciful voice sending cold sweat down Lucrezia's spine. "was that no matter how he tries to dodge fate, it always kept closing in."
Madelyn's wolf snarled in distraught when it convulsed as another wave of magic flared across her, the blue-white veins of the Noctom pulsing beneath her fur. The sound of it burned through Lucrezia's chest.
Before she realized, his gloved hand came to rest just at the curve of her throat in a light, teasing caress that could just as easily become a blade.
"She has your scent," It was the unmerciful and suspicious look that got her heart racing wildly. "It was the first thing I noticed when my men dragged her from the western ridge. Slow as poison, fast as a blade, but unnoticeable past my eyes. It was even more interesting to learn that it was your kind; a pure-bred werewolf."
Lucrezia swallowed, parting her lips but no words came in. The pressure in his grip tightened around her neck and she gasped, wide-eyed, attempting to peel his hand off her.
He tilted his head, studying Lucrezia's face. "Tell me, does she belong to you?"
He demanded, his voice low but rough around the edges, those eyes grasping hers in an unforgiving manner.
He looked like he could see through her, even the darkest secret beyond any ordinary eyes and she struggled, a soft cry escaping her throat.
"Ah, I see." He went on. "You always had that peculiar talent for silence. Perhaps, that might change," His hand fell away, and he stepped past her, his boots whispering across the stones.
Lucrezia gasped, drawing air into her lungs as her eyes stung in hot tears and slightly faltered. Her voice died at the restraint of his hands, with lips quivering with words she couldn't form.
He approached the wolf with the grace of an executioner, and the soldiers lining the courtyard bowed their heads as he passed, not daring to lift their gaze.
The white wolf's growl rose in a low, trembling thing of agony and defiance, but even that sound faltered when he stopped before her.
"A clever kind, cautious enough to slip through my watchtower wards in gloom. Imagine my amusement—someone was trying to spy on me in my abode and far interesting to learn it was from the hands of your father,"
The words 'spy' and 'father' rolled off his tongue like venom, soft but deliberate, and he turned to look at Lucrezia.
Lucrezia's knees weakened. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to shield Madelyn, to undo what had already been set into motion but she could barely even breathe.
With those eyes darkened from the very depth of hell, "I'm going to show you what's done to spies," he said at last, cold, quiet but clear with each word wrapped in dark promise.