Meeting the mistress
1534 Words
Celeste couldn’t forget the fateful day she had met Syzar, the day after the siege, back in the familiar halls of the Cross Vale pack.
She had been called urgently by her father for a celebration and was forced to sit front and center of the cruel act, watching the Sorgale kingdom's alpha heir being taunted and tortured by her uncle.
The stench of blood and the brutal whips of the razor lashes caused slashes across his body.
She hated it, hated the violence, and hated the smirks of triumph on their faces as they watched his torture.
“What is it, Princess?” her father, Dregan, asked as she held a brittle instant of breath, feeling the bile rise in her throat.
“I’d like to go back to my chambers, please. I still have a few things to attend to, and I am tired,” she pleaded with her father as he nodded.
Her two foster mothers took her away while the whole crowd bowed.
She was the alpha's daughter and Ayvoc, after all—not just the princess, but also seen as sacred and pure.
Believed to have moon-blessed gifts, her blessing gave life and cured all sicknesses, a gift even she had never believed she possessed.
But every day she couldn’t get that alpha out of her head; she needed to see him, so she dressed in black, trailing toward the dungeons and to the secret tunnel only she knew of.
The sight before her was sickening. His body sat shivering from the cruel cold of the prison, blood still shining on his skin. At Celeste's presence, he was awake, his eyes visible through his long hair.
One look at those amber, bloodshot eyes proved the power of this male, and she pulled back with a gasp.
Syzarion Rahl Kharas, the only heir of the Sorgale empire left alive.
She wanted to help him, taking out a balm and water as she passed it through the bars, but felt a wicked grip that hurt her—yet she didn’t scream.
“I am so sorry. I'm so sorry that I have no power to stop this…” she called out as he finally eased his grip and stepped into the light.
Eyes skeptical of her words and actions, and Celeste felt her heart breaking, thinking how he trusted no Cross Vale wolf.
“Who are you…” he asked, and Celeste knew she needed to lie; of course, he would never accept help from the alpha's daughter.
“My name is Celly… I am a maid of the princess,” she said as he knelt in front of her, eyes steady. But before she could speak, his hand wrapped around her neck.
Eyes wicked with hate as he roared, “Liar… I know who you are!”
“No!” Celeste's eyes shot open as she jolted upright in bed, realizing everything had been a dream—a memory of her first meeting with Syzar five years ago.
A pair of eyes hovered over her. She looked over to see the stern face of Blanca. “Stand up now, girl!” Blanca scolded a confused Celeste, who stood up.
A sharp pain made her bite her tongue to stop the groan that rose from between her thighs. “What's going on?” she called, confused, as Blanca pulled her toward the bathroom.
“Take off your clothes now,” she instructed, turning on the cold shower, earning a nod from Celeste. “Clean up quickly; you are being summoned,” she commanded, closing the door.
Even in Celeste's confused state, she hurried; she must not keep Syzar waiting.
She still couldn’t believe that this was her life, and this time, she was the one in chains.
She quickly walked out to see a different set of clothes laid out, this time black. “What? I thought I was supposed to only wear red.”
“Yes, because you will not be meeting the king. You have been summoned by someone else,” Blanca called with a scowl, and Celeste took the clothes.
The heavy bronze cuff braces on both her wrists with the Sorgale insignia were a reminder of her ownership, as she belonged to Syzar.
She took a deep breath after putting on the plain dress and letting her wavy hair fall free to her hips. As she walked behind Blanca, stares followed her as always, down the hall to a room.
The grey doors of the room opened to an extravagantly decorated chamber clearly owned by someone in power, jewels glinting everywhere.
The door closed, and Celeste felt a shiver climb up her spine at the arrival of whoever had summoned her.
Footsteps grew closer as Nyssa walked out, her dress a pastel green with a gold circlet around her hair, arm, and ankle to prove her status.
Nyssa’s presence screams arrogance and one to avoid as she recalls Muriel’s warning.
“Mistress, I have brought her,” Blanca called.
Nyssa’s eyes were stern as she watched Celeste walk forward. She roughly held Celeste's chin, turning her side to side and looking at the bite marks that littered her skin.
“Nothing unexpected from the king's slave, might I add. You are nothing special, Ayvoc,” she said as she let go of Celeste's face roughly. “Come join me for breakfast.”
“I am afraid I must decline if I can mistress?” Celeste found herself asking as silence ensued. Blanca and the rest of Nyssa's maids stared at Celeste in disbelief as Blanca walked over to her and gritted her teeth.
“You'd better sit down and smile pretty, you stupid girl, before I get my limbs cut off because of you,” she said, tugging her forward as they forced Celeste to sit down.
Breakfast was served. Nyssa was given the best of delicious crusts and platters, while Celeste sat stiffly. She watched a maid bring a bowl of soup to her.
The bowl was steaming, but the stench of something rotten made her bile rise as she looked at Nyssa, who smiled innocently.
“Try it… I made sure my staff made it especially for you,” she said, pointing to the food.
All eyes were on her as Celeste reached for the spoon—one that had been placed in a molten fire. As Celeste touched the spoon, it sizzled against her skin, burning her hand immediately.
The searing pain had Celeste crying out as she stumbled back and right into a vase that shattered on the ground. Eyes filled with hatred surrounded her as Nyssa stood.
“You little slut, I invite you to have breakfast even as a slave, yet you broke one of my prized possessions!” Nyssa raged, pulling on Celeste's hair, earning a cry from her lips as she tried to fend her off.
“Guard!” Nyssa called as two males stepped in. “I will make an example of you. Do what you want with her and Blanca, and make it hurt,” she told the males, who had sinister looks on their faces.
“Wait… I will do anything, Mistress,” Blanca begged as she turned to look at Celeste with desperation. “Slave, you better obey her words!” Blanca pleaded as Celeste trembled.
She watched as a guard takes Blanca, placing her hand on the table a dagger above it ready to cut her hand if Celeste doesn’t respond.
“What should I do…” she muttered, hissing from the pain as her palm burned, but she didn’t want an innocent to suffer.
“If you walk over the glass shards you just broke, I may have a change of heart,” Nyssa said with a mischievous smile as she pulled Celeste toward the glass shards. “Now walk!” she ordered.
The room settled into silence, her eyes on the wicked shards as she stepped over them. Almost immediately
she felt a painful slice in her legs as the porcelain shards began to tear her flesh; the floor turned ruby red from her blood.
Nyssa watched with a happy smile as Celeste walked, excruciating pain shooting through her, until the door barged open and Callix walked in. “What is the meaning of this!” he called as they all stared.
“Look, Callix… she wanted to hurt me, but she hurt herself instead on the broken shards. Isn’t that right, slave?” she called toward Celeste, who watched Blanca still held by the guards.
“I am sorry; it was my fault,” Celeste bit her lips to keep in the pain just as Callix came forward, taking her hand and pulling her away.
“She is the king's to punish… be careful, Nyssa, don’t overstep,” Callix warned as he dragged Celeste out of the room.
He left Nyssa a seething mess as she flipped the table and all the food crashed to the floor, eyes wild with hate as she muttered,
“This is not over; I will tarnish her little by little till she is scared and unwanted, until Syzar rejects her.”
That was a promise.
- Writer
