The chilly wind brushed against Valerie's skin, making her brows furrow before her eyes slowly fluttered open. She blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the brightness and her surroundings. A sharp gasp tore from her lips when she realized where she was, perched dangerously close to the edge of a tall building, with what looked like a training ground far below.
Her heart lurched violently in her chest. Panic set in as she tried to move, only to discover her wrists and ankles were bound tightly to a wooden chair. Any attempt to struggle sent the chair wobbling, threatening to tip over the edge.
"You're finally awake."
Valerie whipped her head toward the voice, her glare landing on the Viscount standing a few feet away. A small, almost amused smile tugged at his lips.
"What is the meaning of this!?" she screamed, her voice carried away by the wind.
"We're playing a little game this morning," Vincent said smoothly. "In about two minutes, there will be a duel and which you must choose one of the soldiers. If your chosen fighter wins, I might let you go. But if he loses…" His gaze flicked downward to the ground far below. "Well, you'll fall."
Valerie's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you out of your mind!? Just kill me already! I'm not playing your twisted games!" she shouted, her voice trembling between rage and fear.
He sighed, almost disappointed. "Unfortunately, Daphne, you don't have much of a choice." His tone remained calm, as he turned his attention toward the training ground below. "Ah, wonderful. The soldiers are here." He gestured toward them. "Make your pick."
Valerie hesitated, her eyes darting downward. Two men stood in the center of the training ground, both dressed in black and wearing masks that obscured their faces. They were nearly identical in height and build, save for one, whose light brown hair was longer and tied loosely behind his head.
"You have five seconds, or I'll make the choice for you."
Valerie bit her lip, glancing between the two men. From their firm stances and disciplined posture, it was obvious they were both trained soldiers.
"Two seconds," Vincent warned.
"The one with the longer hair," she blurted, then turned to meet his cold gaze.
"Are you sure?"
She frowned, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes. Let's just get this over with."
"Very well then," he said with a smirk. "Let the duel begin."
The two men lunged at each other, wooden staffs clashing with sharp strikes. Valerie's breath caught as she watched their swift movements. She couldn't deny being impressed. To her relief, the man she had chosen fought with remarkable agility, dodging every blow with ease. Within minutes, he had his opponent on his knees, the end of his staff pressed firmly against the other's throat.
The match was over and both men disappeared from sight as quickly as they had appeared.
"Yes! He won!" Valerie exclaimed, a triumphant smile breaking across her face. "You have to keep your word now, let me go!"
Her joy faded instantly when she saw the Viscount's slow steps toward her. His lips curled into a sinister smile, eyes glinting with amusement.
Her pulse quickened as he stopped behind her and gripped the back of the chair, turning it toward the building's edge. "What… what are you doing?" she stammered, panic rising in her voice. "You said you would let me go! Why are you doing this?"
His smile widened, his tone playful. "I said I might let you go. But I've changed my mind. I think I'll keep you, if only for the pleasure of watching you fall."
Terror clawed at her chest. In a last act of defiance, Valerie spat in his face but Vincent didn't even flinch. He simply wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, then straightened, his voice calm and chilling.
"It was nice meeting you, Daphne."
Before she could react, he shoved the chair off the ledge.
Valerie's scream tore through the air as she plummeted, the wind whipping past her face. Her vision dimmed, the world spinning into darkness before everything went blank.
She jolted awake with a sharp gasp, drenched in sweat. Her trembling hands frantically roamed her body, there was no blood, no bruises. Nothing. She was supposed to be dead.
Breathing hard, Valerie glanced around. She was lying on a soft bed in a room she didn't recognize. The space was beautiful, adorned with paintings of trees and lakes that lined the walls. Pulling the blanket off her body, Valerie noticed she was wearing a white, short-sleeved nightdress, one she was certain she hadn't been wearing before.
A knock at the door snapped her attention in that direction.
Quickly climbing out of bed, she grabbed the lamp from her bedside table, gripping it tightly in case she needed to defend herself. The door creaked open, and footsteps approached.
A woman stepped into view, her dark eyes flicking from the lamp in Valerie's hand to her face. She narrowed her eyes briefly before schooling her features into a neutral expression.
"The Lord had me prepare this for you," the woman said flatly. "Get ready. You will be escorted to the dining room in thirty minutes. A warm bath awaits you in the bathroom." Her tone was devoid of emotion as she crossed the room, placing a neatly folded set of clothes at the edge of the bed. She gave Valerie one last glance before turning toward the door.
"Wait!" Valerie called out.
The woman stopped.
Valerie hesitated, then swallowed hard. "What's going on? Why am I here? Why am I being treated like a guest?"
Silence stretched between them. The woman let out a long, weary sigh, then continued toward the door. As she opened it, she paused and said coldly, "You should learn to be grateful, girl. The Lord has been kind enough to show you mercy. Don't ruin it."
With that, she stepped out and slammed the door shut behind her, leaving Valerie more confused than she had been moments ago.
But even through the confusion, one thought gnawed at her mind, what did the Lord want with her?