His Majesty & Daughters Of The Seven Sins

Chapter 20 • Enslaved -3

At the break of dawn, Lucien's horse had already approached the borders of the land of Thembelo.

Athalia yawned loudly, rubbing her swollen eyes that drooped. Dark bags had already formed beneath her eyes because she had stayed awake through the night, determined not to fall off the horse or let her sleeping brother slip from her arms.

She glanced at his serene face, brushing a few strands from his face and cooed at him before looking back up at the Prince.

She found it odd how someone could remain so quiet for so long—doesn't his mouth even smell? She mentally berated herself for such a silly thought.

But even so, he completely ignored their presence behind him. Was he perhaps even sleeping with his body sitting upright?

Athalia slowly leaned forward, attempting to catch a glimpse of his face. "Lean any further, and you'll become one with the dirt," he said nonchalantly. She immediately pulled back.

Lucien remained silent as Athalia looked at the town they were approaching.

The land was dry, with spiny trees and shrubs and barely any green leaves. The soil was sandy and loose, unlike that of the Sunndrom Kingdom. The houses were all multi-story, with the central road made of large stones and gravel.

As Prince Lucien's horse ventured further into the town, all the townsfolk from each building rushed out, falling to their knees and touching their foreheads to the ground.

Everyone—men, women, and children—knelt as Lucien approached each house. Athalia nervously watched as all the subjects bowed their heads, trembling.

Even the most elegantly dressed individuals knelt until their horse had passed before rising. As they continued toward the heart of the kingdom, the large gate of the castle was pushed open.

Athalia's eyes widened in surprise.

The castle appeared old and ancient, with large vines and branches growing through the wall's cracks. The castle was surrounded by a garden of dead, dried, and spiny remains of plants. The sculptures in the garden were cracked, abandoned, and old, with dry plants covering them.

The garden, alongside the castle and the kingdom, looked dry and withered, devoid of any signs of life or happiness.

Athalia's thoughts were abruptly interrupted when Lucien brought the horse to a halt. "Dismount," he ordered without looking back at her.

Athalia carefully held Owen's sleeping body and began to lower one leg. Their combined weight caused her to lose balance, and she fell off the horse.

With her misplaced foot hitting the stony ground, she sprained her ankle.

Owen woke with a start, "Ah!" Athalia hissed in pain, sitting up on the ground to hold her aching ankle. Owen groaned softly, sitting up as he rubbed his sore head.

Lucien glanced at them from the corner of his eye before jumping down gracefully from his horse.

A few guards and maids rushed out of the building, stopping to bow their heads to their prince.

Lucien regarded them with disdain before gently pulling his horse's bridle. He turned to a guard, saying, "Return Mortem to her stable."

The guard bowed, "Yes, your majesty," and took the horse's bridle, stepping aside.

Lucien then looked at the siblings, who were now on the dirty ground. "Get up and follow," he said curtly and began walking forward.

Athalia and Owen exchanged confused glances. Upon seeing the prince enter the large palace door, they quickly got up, dusting themselves off.

Athalia took a deep breath and limped forward with Owen's support, following the prince's long strides. Finally, they entered the welcoming hall of the palace, their eyes widening in amazement.

The interior craftsmanship appeared too beautiful and elegant for a building with such an unimpressive exterior. Almost everything had hints of gold worked into it.

The carpet and wallpaper were red, adorned with golden vein-like patterns. The hall was twice the size of Sunndrom's palace.

Two long staircases lined the walls, leading to the upper floor, with a large door in the middle. The hall featured statues and large paintings on the walls, mostly of royalties, each with a golden plate below their painting displaying their names and history.

While their bewildered eyes roamed the golden surroundings, their attention was drawn to the frame above the main door.

The frame was the largest of all, covered by a black cloth that concealed the painting completely from sight. They tilted their heads in curiosity.

Why was the frame covered?

Lucien then cleared his throat, regaining their attention. They turned their heads toward him.

Lucien stood in the center of the hall, assessing them with his eyes. Athalia looked down, scrutinizing her dirty and tattered clothes, making her appear like a slave fresh from the black market. She bit her lip nervously.

He snapped his fingers, summoning an older woman from a door behind him. She stopped beside Lucien, bowing her head.

"Welcome, Your Majesty."

"Judith."

"Yes, Your Majesty?" She bowed again.

"Take the boy to the servants' chambers, clean him up, teach him his new duties, and report back to me."

"Yes, Your Majesty," she replied and turned to the siblings, moving toward them. She stood in front of them, slowly raising her head with a plain expression. "Please, follow me," she said with a subtle bow before turning around and heading to the door.

Athalia and Owen exchanged glances and then followed her. Owen reached out to hold Athalia's hand. Judith gently tugged at Owen, urging him to let go of his sister's hand.

"Athalia," he mouthed, walking toward the door. They maintained eye contact until he disappeared through the door.

She swallowed her sadness, knowing they had sworn their lives to him, which meant they had lost any right to object to his orders.

She reluctantly turned her gaze back to the intimidating figure of the Prince. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

"Follow me," he said curtly and began to ascend the left staircase.

Athalia watched the silent prince walk up the stairs without bothering to look back or waiting for her.

Clutching her fists, she took a few long steps forward. Her ankle throbbed with immense pain, causing her to cry out. With no support from her surroundings, Athalia endured the pain.

Seeing the prince already pass the first flight of stairs and head toward the next, she braced herself and took quick, painful steps to catch up with him. She winced with each step, clutching the side rails. "Oh Lord, help me," she mumbled in pain, ascending faster.