Chapter 4
Alaric’s brow tightened. With a sharp motion, he flung me aside.
“Death would be far too merciful for you, Seraphina. I want you alive to suffer for the rest of your days!”
He returned moments later with a freshly brewed potion, bitter and reeking of herbs.
Over the years, I’d lost count of how many bowls of this wretched tonic I’d been forced to drink.
He feared I’d bleed out for real one day–but never wanted me to die easily.
Nheld the bowl in both hands and drank it in front of him without protest
Alaric’s expression darkened with something unreadable.
I used to hate bitterness more than anything. The first time he offered me this medicine, I knocked it aside without hesitation, stubborn
as ever.
After that, he always pried my mouth open and forced it down himself.
“Seraphina, so long as you stay obedient,” be paused, averting his gaze slightly, “perhaps I’ll consider… giving the child at gravestone.
My lashes trembled. That child had been his, too.
And now, even a simple grave marker… was something I had to earn.
“Today, you’ll kneel in the courtyard and reflect on your conduct. Consider it a fitting punishment for frightening Evelyne–and disturbing her delicate condition.”
At precisely the third bell past noon, a wolf’s howl split the air outside.
At Evelyne’s birthday feast two days ago, one of the warlords had gifted her a young pup from Westmark
Wolves, after all, crave the scent of blood.
My heart dropped. The instant I looked up, the beast lunged.
By the time Evelyne made a show of rushing out to stop it, several chunks of flesh had already been torn from my limbs.
She pulled the wolf back with a dramatic gasp, feigning remorse. “Your Majesty only just began teaching me how to tame these creatures. I must’ve misjudged. I never thought it would hurt Seraphina… This is all my fault.”
“Your Grace,” her handmaid huffed, “you’re the Queen of this realm Why offer apologies to a lowborn wretch? Even if the beast had devoured her whole, His Majesty would never hold you responsible.”
Their voices drifted as if from somewhere distant.
My vision blurred with red. I could no longer see or hear clearly.
I thought of my father then–how he’d also died to wolf fangs. A fully grown Westmark–wolf could crush a man’s skull with a single bite.
I was trembling uncontrollably, yet oddly numb.
“Seraphina? Eina… Fina…..”
A voice was calling–low, strained, barely held together.
A name I hadn’t heard in years. My name, from long ago,
In the haze, I caught a glimpse of deep crimson robes. I reached out, fingers slick with blood, and grasped the fabric. Through tears, I whispered, “Father…”
Chapter 4
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The voice fell silent.
When consciousness returned, bitterness flooded my mouth once more.
I opened my eyes to find Alaric leaning over me, lips pressed to mine–feeding me medicine directly.
The moment I realized what he was doing, I turned my head away in disgust.
He froze, fingers tightening around the bowl in his hand.
“Seraphina, since you’re awake…, drink it yourself.”
ipropped myself up with trembling arms, took the bowl, and drank every last drop.
But a moment later, I vomited it all out–along with dark, viscous blood. Squirming within it were several tiny, writhing hexworms.
Alaric’s expression shifted–confusion flickering across his features, then panic, before finally settling into rage. “What are you pulling now, Seraphina? More tricks?!”
Night had fallen outside I knew then–my time had come.
“Your Majesty… I’m dying.”
“No. I won’t allow it..
He moved as if to threaten me again with the child’s remains that weapon he always wielded against me. But the words never came
He saw it. Blood flowing from every orifice–eyes, ears, nose, mouth–soaking the bedding crimson.
Outside, petals drifted in on the night breeze.
He looked down again at the faint red blotches blooming beneath my collar and sleeves.
Then at my face. My eyes were shut. Completely. Quietly.
Without even a final word. I was gone.
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