Arianna groaned as she struggled to keep up with the guard's relentless pace. They dragged her into a room where a few maids waited, clutching scissors and a razor. One of the maids was Selene, her expression blank.
What are they going to do with those?
The guard shoved her to the floor, and Arianna shot a glare at him. This particular guard clearly hated her the most. He smirked down at her.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked the maids, who quickly stepped forward. They stripped her naked and tied her arms above her head while the guards watched.
"Let me go," Arianna barely had the strength to fight back, she could barely feel her bones.
Her eyes caught Selene taking the scissors from another maid. Arianna's breath hitched as she cast a pleading gaze at Selene, but the head maid simply walked behind her, expression unchanging.
"Stop! Please, stop!" Arianna cried out, but the grip on her hair remained firm.
Snip. Snip.
The sound of the scissors cutting through her locks echoed in the room, and Arianna shut her eyes tightly, feeling her long, silky strands fall away. Each snip felt like a piece of her identity crumbling, and tears slipped down her cheeks, her heart crashing against her ribcage.
Her fists clenched, tears blurring her vision as she remained still, silent, while the maids severed the last strand of her hair.
It was left jagged and uneven, her head feeling lighter than ever before, the remnants of her once-proud hair now littering the floor.
Next, they began to apply a thick, pungent ointment to her body. Arianna's eyes widened as she recognized the familiar scent - a scent suppressor, a tool her late father had often used before embarking on a hunt to mask their presence.
Cutting her hair and suppressing her scent?
Whoever was behind this wasn't just punishing her. They were trying to erase her identity.
The chain was unlocked, Arianna's exhausted body crumpled to the cold concrete floor. Her vision blurry and heavy to keep open
The door closed, its thud echoing the small space. Arianna slowly lifted her head, her gaze settling up on the plate of bread and cup of water beside it. Her stomach growled at the sight of it...
Tears filled her eyes at her pathetic state.
Definitely, the moon goddess must had hated her so much.
************
"You allowed Lady Valkyrie to inspect the King's rut?" Lucas spoke, casting a glare at the guard that stood before him.
"Yes, my Lord," the guard replied with deep respect. "She insisted on taking charge during your absence. She insisted on making sure everything went well..."
"And you couldn't do that instead?" Lucas snapped.
"I can, my Lord, but I had to obey her highness' command..."
"I gave you the order, Falcon. We've been the ones inspecting the King's feral rut ever since it began, in order to keep it suppressed. And yet, you left your assignment," Lucas' voice grew firmer. "She can visit during the period, but not inspect it."
"I'm sorry, my Lord," the guard bowed.
Lucas returned his gaze to his work. "How many slaves were taken?"
"My apologies, my Lord," Falcon said, his voice slightly trembling. "I do not have the full details. Lady Valkyrie ordered the inspection, but she has not shared the entire details."
Lucas's eyes narrowed, his aura shifting, making Falcon swallow. "You're telling me you don't know how many slaves were taken by the King?"
"My Lord," Falcon kept his gaze lowered, afraid to meet Lucas's piercing eyes. "Lady Valkyrie dismissed all but her handpicked maids and guards for the duration of the rut."
Lucas clenched his jaw, his fingers tapping the desk in irritation. "And you let this happen under your watch? Do you understand the danger you allowed?"
Falcon's face paled, and he bowed lower. "I shall take full responsibility, my Lord. I—"
"Save it," Lucas cut in. "You'll take a contingent of guards to inspect the aftermath of the rut. Report directly to me. If you find anything amiss—anything at all—you'll inform me immediately. Understood?"
"Yes, my Lord," Falcon replied.
"Get out," Lucas said.
As the door closed behind the guard, Lucas's expression darkened. Lady Valkyrie's growing audacity was becoming intolerable.
Coming to the King's chamber to dismiss the guards he had placed was her stepping over the boundary. This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for the rogue issue.
The rogue situation had been dire, and he had no choice but to investigate it himself during the night of the King's rut. With his presence, they discovered that the rogues had a leader—one who was strong. Lucas planned to investigate further, to get to the root of the matter.
Stepping out, he headed toward the King's chamber.
His face weathered, yet handsome. One would think this man never smiles.
As he carried himself with regal grace, his thick armor, which clung to him like a second skin, glittered.
Lucas was a man who commanded respect without a word, not just because he was the right hand of the King of Lunaris Citadel, but because his demeanor commanded power.
Guards and maids bowed at the sight of him.
Stepping in, his eyes met King Duncan seated in an imposing chair crafted from dark stone and blackened wood.
A serious look on his face, his intense gaze poured over the stack of reports laid out before him.
"Your Grace," Lucas greeted with a bow.
"Enough with the formality, Lucas," Duncan said, his voice calm.
Lucas's lips tugged to the side a little. This male was finally back to himself.
He had been on King Duncan's side for centuries, helping him with all sorts; their relationship was a close one.
As Lucas sat, he began delivering every detail of the rogue investigation.
However, King Duncan's mind seemed to slip in and out, distracted momentarily. It had been like this since morning.
The blur memory of a person. Her scent still lingering in his head... His beast momentarily growling at the surface. A touch.
What was it?
Was it the slave?
"You're not really listening," Lucas spoke, drawing out a file to attend to. "Is there something wrong?"
King Duncan paused, letting out a sigh. "Someone touched my face."
Lucas blinked in surprise. Was the King drunk? No, this male was serious. "What?"
"Someone touched my face," King Duncan repeated, his voice deep as fingers beating on his desk. "And surprisingly, I do not hate it."