Three months passed since The Long Night, and Roan had grown used to having the slave around. She was yet to have her gag removed, only allowed to lower it when she ate. Curiously, she never ate around Roan, and she was taken by his mother every night when it was time for supper.
At first, he thought she wasn't eating at all. Slowly, he started to notice that the already frail girl was growing increasingly thinner and thinner, as if she was starving. But, it had been months, and she was still alive. That was proof enough that she was eating, wasn't it? She'd be dead already.
He wondered why he wasn't allowed to witness her eat, but he soon grew used to it. For every other moment of the day, she was with him, anyway. Oh, how he loved his new slave.
Intelligent but clumsy, obedient but feisty, pretty but foreign. It was the best gift he'd ever gotten. And, it was sure to be the longest lasting. His father before him received a slave in his early years—he was now the head butler in their estate, and an almost uncle-figure to young Roan.
He even seemed happy in his position. Roan hoped his own slave would soon see how great her position was, and grow to appreciate it, too. From what he knew, if she wasn't his slave, she'd be in that starving, barbaric, place called the south.
No, here, she didn't even have to do any real work. Sure, she had to grab him the occasional glass of water, or warm his bed, or give him a massage, or play hide-and-seek with him. Or help him bathe. But nothing more than that!
Recently, his mother had started requesting her even before dinner, for some reason. Roan was quite scared of his mother, so he obliged. Every time his slave came back, she was dressed in a new expensive outfit.
He wondered if his mother was spoiling the slave a little too much, but he didn't really mind.
Currently, Roan was brushing and braiding her hair. He had always wanted to mess with a girl's hair, but that was something for the female servants, not the young lord of the Canterburys.
The slave had no problem with it, though.
"And then, that bitch Marielle—she's the lady of Corvailles, by the way—rejected my invitation. In front of everyone, too. Needless to say, I scolded her. I simply pointed out her ugly attitude. And her teeth... but seriously, if I had teeth like that, I'd get them filed down. Wouldn't you?"
"Mmm."
"...Haaah, I'm still yet to hear your voice. It's always 'mmm' and 'ummm.' Can't I remove your gag? You won't tell anyone, will you?"
"Mmm mmm." She shook her head.
"You better not bite me. That would only get you killed—then I'd lose you. Then I'd be really sad. You wouldn't want me to be sad, right?"
He let go of her hair and moved his hands to the cloth tied around her jaw. It took a minute to untie the tight knot, but once he did, she was free to speak.
"There! All done!"
The slave girl turned around, staring with her oh so beautiful golden eyes. They dialated, like a cat, and Roan suddenly felt incredibly wary. Perhaps he had made a mistake. This was still a monster, after all.
"Food," the girl growled.
Her voice was raspy and a little hard to understand. It was as if she hadn't had a drink of water in years. To be fair, Roan had never given her any, nor had he ever seen her drink anything.
"What?"
"Hungry. Food."
He slapped her across the face.
"Have you no manners? Demanding food from me? Are you an animal?"
"Hit me?"
"Yes, I hit you. It's my right to discipline you. You're my slave."
"No..."
"No?" Roan slapped her again, on the same cheek. "I know I've treated you well, but you'd best not forget your place."
"Don't hit."
His eye twitched, and his hand flew through the air again. It struck her with enough force that she fell to the ground. The right side of her face was now purple and red.
"I should've never undone your gag. Come here, let me put it back on before you make another mistake."
The slave girl glanced to the open door, and before Roan could stop her, she broke into a sprint.
'She's running!?'
Panicked, the young lord ran after her. If anyone saw that he'd undone her gag, he'd be in trouble with his parents. Then again, he could always claim she loosened it herself...
He was much faster than she was, and dove through the air to tackle her. To his surprise, though, she simply jumped into the air, causing him to collide with the floor and roll to a stop.
'Where is she trying to—mother's study? Why is she going there?'
His heart stopped. The last thing he wanted was to get into trouble with his mother. He winced each time the slave's fist collided with the thick wooden door, creating a series of loud banging sounds.
'Is she insane? My mother'll execute her for this!'
The door swung open, and Roan was already scrambling to his feet. His mother stepped out of her study, and he felt his blood go cold. She looked down at the slave, then at him, who was still down the hall.
Then, he watched in shock as his slave dove into his mother's body. Her arms wrapped around his mother's waist, embracing her into a hug. He thought his mother would surely strike the girl, but instead... she returned the hug.
'M-mother... is hugging her? But—but—'
"What's wrong, honey?"
For a moment, Roan thought she was talking to him. That was the obvious conclusion, of course. But, his mother had never called him 'honey' ever in his entire life.
The slave girl looked up to his mother's face, then pointed her finger at him. Roan looked at them, confused.
"He hit me."
"Ha! Of course I did—you needed to be disciplined!"
His mother payed no attention to his words, instead kneeling down to examine the girl's face. The bruises were already fading, but were still visible thanks to the girl's hasty escape.
"Oh, that's not good," his mother spoke, cupping the girl's cheek with her gentle touch.
Her voice was soft—far softer than her usual cold tone. She had never spoken so softly to him. She had never gently examined him when he got injured.
"Mother! What are you doing to my slave!? She needs to be—"
"Shut up, boy. Did I say you could hurt her? Are you a violent beast?"
Her voice was, once again, cold as ice.
"W-what? She's my slave!" Roan said, running over to the two of them.
"You useless boy. She is no slave. No, she is my little princess..."
"Huh!? What are you—"
This time, it was Roan who received a strike to the face. This one was much harder than what he had given to the slave. He burst into confused and sorrowful tears. What was happening? He couldn't make any sense out of it.
"M-mother..."
"You don't deserve to call me mother. Go back to your room. I don't want to see you until supper."
As Roan walked away, he heard his mother comforting his slave. She was probably already healed, while his face still ached from his mother's hand.
Young Lord Roan went to sleep—and for the first time since he got his slave, he was alone.