Clp… clp… clp…
His coal soles clipped against the stone of the temple, approaching Asura in leisurely strides. In many ways, he resembled a predator. His golden eyes glinted from the dark like a creature of the night, devoid of any warmth. Human emotion was foreign to him, but maybe that was because he had no heart. At least, that’s what the rumors say.
These characteristics made Asura think that Duke Pontius had the Talent of intimidation, or maybe influence, as he could almost always get people to do his bidding, her included. The exceptions were strong willed pillars. Like her father.
She stepped back, unconsciously spreading her arms out to protect the little Goddess, but her back only met with the toes of the statue.
Where did that rascal go?
Frozen in fear, she was glad that the cloak somewhat masked her trembling legs.
“Why is a little… child like you wandering in a place like this?” His words came out disgusted, as if he had found a hair in his soup.
Do nobles even drink soup? Stop! This isn’t the time for soup!
“Hello sir, a nice priest brought me here.” Her voice came out higher than she had meant to. She cleared her throat. He would grow suspicious if he realized she knew who he was.
He stopped where he was and brought his gaze up to the statue behind her before he flit his eyes back to her. They bore into her and made her uncomfortable.
Thank Goddess she hardly ever had to deal with him in her previous life. This man was the equivalent to the devil. Her own, personal avatar of hell on earth. Even the air that surrounded him seemed to reek of burned hair.
He shifted his capelet, revealing the lustrous grip of a dagger. A jolt of surprise and nausea flooded her, along with the memories of the day that Duke Pontius struck her father down in front of her.
Her father, Orson, had been ordered to murder two small children on the battlefield. In an attempt to bargain, Orson had hesitated, even speaking up about the injustice. But before Orson could finish his plea, Duke Pontius had driven his blade in between the ribs of her father on grounds of insubordination. At the time, Asura was fifteen and had joined the battlefield with her father as his apprentice. She had stood in the rain behind him.
She reached for her sword, but Orson stayed her hand, giving her a small affectionate smile before pushing her with all his might into the arms of his trusted second in command. Being dragged away, no words could escape her mouth, even when they were crawling in her throat like bugs. No amount of sleep could fade the image of her father, on all fours in the mud, vomiting blood. It was all burned into her eyelids, her heart.
Bile began to rise in Asura’s throat at the memory.
“And where might this priest be now?” His tone growled an unspoken threat as he tapped his foot in impatience.
“He passed through those doors, sir.” She pointed to the doors that the priest had disappeared through, hoping that he would follow and she could escape. Her heart was beating much too fast. There would be nothing she could do if he chose to kill her here and now.
Clammy hands recoiled underneath her cloak in attempt to conceal the tremble breaking out over her entire body. A cold chill rose up her grounded legs as he approached, his face expressionless save for the downturn of his mouth.
He took her chin roughly in his hand, tilting her head up. Gravity pulled the hood back. Her dusted cheeks and pale face were squished between his finger and thumb.
“E-
His gaze turned into liquid gold as he observed her for a moment, unblinking.
What kind of power did this man have to force her father into a slave contract in her previous life? What had bound him so thoroughly? What horrors had he saved Asura from during their expeditions?
One thing she knew for sure- everything she had eaten was coming up her throat right now.
Bleurgh!
The Duke withdrew his hand in utter disgust, his golden eyes blinking away from her face. She gasped, her hands on her knees as she spit the last of the bile out of her mouth.
“Ugh!” He shook his hand off, and used a handkerchief from his coat, to wipe his hand.
“You… you may leave. I’ll inform the priest you’re not feeling well.” He spat out that last part, holding a grudge over the bodily fluids that spilled on his appendages.
“
An involuntary shiver racked her body, followed by anger.
One day, old man. One day.
Her stomach flipped, warning her it had more contents to spill.
Just not today.
Her anger dissipated instantly, overwhelmed by nausea. She couldn’t get the taste of burned hair out of her mouth.
Running, she stumbled before a stable and fell to her hands and knees, spilling the remainder of her stomach out onto the dirt. Some horses whinnied in surprise.
Apologizing in her mind, she reached for her flask, only to realize that she had drank it all earlier. She threw it in frustration and it clanked hollowly.
Thunk!
Fuck!
She cursed her circumstances. She cursed the duke, her small body, the fear she felt, the way her body lost control, and especially…
She beat her hand on the wooden planks of the stable with gritted teeth, barely rattling the structure, even with all her might.
Fuck!
Anger bubbled out of her, leaving her gasping for air after it left her body in the form of small puddles of undigested snacks.
After finding a couple of farmers going back to her hometown of Ardwen, she rode on the back of their wagon with a sour tongue until the town gates came into view. Empty handed except for her pocket money, she presented them with a handful of ivories, despite their protests. The wagon continued ahead without her and a loaf of bread, now held in Asura’s hands.
Her heart warmed a bit by the generosity of kind strangers, she munched on the bread gratefully. She trudged onward on tired legs fueled by her earlier defeat.
A familiar head of salt and pepper hair greeted her eyes, and Nan holding a basket of various grocery items came into view. Relieved, she trotted over to Nan.
“Goddess above! What happened to you?!” Nan exclaimed, taking in Asura’s appearance- dusty, speckled in vomit, hay in her hair, and chapped lips.
“Did you get drug around by the Henson boys?” Nan questioned, already furious at the poor boys who had nothing to do with the state she was in.
“Once I get my hands on those boys! Oh!” She breathed roughly through her teeth.
“No, Nan, I just fell off a wagon when I was offered a ride.” Asura didn’t want Nan to know she went out of town, and if she involved the Henson boys, Nan would figure out exactly that.
“A wagon?! For crying out loud!” She shook her head in disbelief and took Asura’s hand. Even though she was absolutely flabbergasted with Asura’s appearance, she still took the girl’s hand with a gentle grip.
Asura smiled at her nanny’s demeanor and let herself be led back home.
Nan scrubbed her hair furiously that night, making all sorts of noises in protest at every little scrape and speck of dirt she found. Asura briefly wondered what Nan would have said about the scars she obtained through her years of slavery under the Duke.
Clean and warm, Asura gulped down a glass of water, a towel draped over her hair. She picked up her clothes to put them in a laundry basket when a crinkle reminded her of the newspaper she had bought early that morning.
Setting the glass down, she grabbed for the paper, unfurled it on her bed and searched the front page until she found the date.
Almost immediately, she ran to the bath where Nan was cleaning up and grabbed the key from her bedside table. Slamming the door in her rush, she locked Nan in the bathroom, her confused exclamations muffled through the door.
Asura had to convince herself that Nan would be safe. If there was anything assassins hated the most, it was a noisy target.
Tp, tp, tp, tp!
She ran barefoot with all her might, her hair dripping water without the towel on her head. She burst through the hall into the dining room. She stopped and listened for anything, but heard nothing over the roar of her heart. She arrived back home before the family sat down to eat, so they should have been here, greeting her as she came in.
It’s too silent.
The girl whirled back to the bedrooms at the back of the house, desperate. Once she reached her parents’ room, she turned the handle, but it was locked. Shoving her shoulder against the door, she slammed it again and again, only to be vaulted inside a moment later.
“Asura?” Her mother asked incredulously. Asura snapped to her mother from the floor, the first time she had seen her in this life. Despite the desperate situation she found herself in, her heart swelled with a powerful emotion at the sight of her mother in front of her.
Porcelain skin framed with long hair the same color as hers, Leila was a beauty. Her milky eyes were slightly open, as she was blind in both. She always used to say fondly that her sight was the price for her Talent, which was seeing the truth. Because of Leila’s strong Talent, the King himself employed her in various jobs at the palace, discerning truth from lie- an important factor in politics.
“Young lady, what could be so important that you had to come bursting through the door?” Orson glared at her on the floor suspiciously, holding the knob of the door in his hand.
“I didn’t see anyone in the dining room!” She said, trying to come up with any excuse she could to stay in the room. She looked at all corners for shadows that were too dark.
“We were waiting for you to be done with your bath, Nan told us you came home looking like you lived in the stables.” Her father gruffly spoke to her.
“I don’t know about you, but eating with a horse at the dinner table is not allowed.” Helping her up, Asura was brought to her feet. She jumped in with her mother, cuddled in her arms.
Oh, how she had missed the scent of her mother.
Orson placed his head in his hands.
“Then why was the door locked?” Asura returned with as much suspicion as he had thrown at her, embraced in her mother’s arms, now stroking her hair.
“Asura, there are certain… activities adults like to do with each other.”
“Ugh! Stop it! Stop right there!” Asura withdrew her hands around her mother to cover her ears. She had interrupted that!?
Giggling, Leila stroke Asura’s damp hair out of her face, planting a kiss there.
Asura removed her hands from her ears after having a wordless argument with her father, and planted herself in her mother’s lap. Her eyes scanned both sides of the bed, the ceiling, even the closets for any sign of an unwelcome visitor.
Orson sighed heavily in defeat and moved to the window to close the shutters for the night.
“Papa, wait!” Asura shouted, but the blade coming in through the window had already made contact.
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