Roan's fist banged on his mother's study. His anger overwhelmed his fear. He was furious. It was his slave! He had put up with this long enough.
The door to the study opened, and his mother's cold gaze made him shrink. But he wouldn't give up.
"Give me back my slave. My bed needs to be warmed."
Wordless, Lady Canterbury struck him. It was not a palm, but a fist. Then again, she struck him.
"Know your place. Know your place!" she hissed.
Roan caught a glimpse of Alia, standing a short distance behind his mother. She was looking away, swaying back and forth on her balls feet. Then, she turned towards him and his mother, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
But it wasn't towards him.
Many months later, and it was closing in on a year since Alia had been bought and taken into the Canterbury estate. Roan's relationship with the girl had completely soured by now.
What was once affection was now complete and utter fear. In his diary, he would write out his grievences, his complaints, and his sadness. The entire estate was cold, and even though The First Night was approaching, there was no holiday spirit present in the manor like there had been the previous year.
His father... was ill. It wasn't anything life-threatening, but he would be bedridden for the holiday. Now, his mother was in charge of the estate. Yes, it was a terrible, dark time for the boy.
He rarely left his room, and when he did, he was quick to return. He avoided anyone and everyone—especially Alia.
The girl, after that incident with the bath, might've realized she had a lot more power than she had previously thought. Now, she ordered him around. Roan would argue, only to be threatened with 'I'll tell mother.'
She was no longer his slave.
Roan, the poor boy, couldn't make sense of it. She was supposed to be his slave. His best gift. What went wrong? It was his mother. His mother ruined everything.
He grew to hate her. His mother and Alia. He hated the both of them. Roan was barred from his father's room, and couldn't even explain what was happening to him.
The manor was cold. So cold.
"Oh, hi, Roan!"
He flinched, turning to see Alia behind him. Thankfully, his mother was nowhere to be seen.
"..."
He stayed silent, not wishing to upset her. It wasn't like the girl was quick to anger, or even very mean to him. At least, on the surface. She would smile, and laugh, and treat him like a brother. From an outside perspective, she seemed to love him like family.
But, if he did anything wrong—something she didn't like—he'd receive punishment from his mother.
"What's the matter?" Alia asked.
"Why are you in my room?"
"Oh, well, I was bored. I was wondering if you wanted to play hide-and-seek? Like we used to?"
'I can't refuse, can I? Can I refuse, please? Please don't make me!'
"Okay..."
Hearing his agreement, she smiled wide. He felt sick at the sight of her fangs. She had yet to use them on him, but he was still wary. It was instinctual.
"I'll be seeker, first. Okay?" she said.
"Sure..."
Once she closed her eyes and started to count, Roan went off to find a hiding spot. They used to play very often, so there were few spots she wouldn't know. He always made her seek back then, too.
He found a good spot in a pantry and waited. Once he heard her footsteps growing closer, he suddenly felt very nervous. It was almost like she was hunting him.
'It's just a game.'
"Roan? Are you in here?"
He started to shake.
"I know you're in heeereee! Oh—found you!"
Roan screamed as she uncovered his hiding spot. Sweat was running down his face, and he slapped her hands away. Alia frowned, rubbing her hand.
"Ow, what was that for? It's just a ga—"
Screaming again, he charged forwards. He tackled her, shakily grabbing her neck with his hands. Roan started to violently choke her, tears running down his face.
"I hate you! Die! Just die already!"
A boy like him had no real hope of killing her, though. He knew that. She was 'extra durable,' after all.
"You hate me? Why?" she asked, her voice barely understandable thanks to the hands around her neck.
"You ruined everything! Who said you could act like this!? You're my slave!"
"But, I didn't... do anything. It was mother, wasn't it?"
"W-what are you trying to say?"
"Why are you trying to kill me, if it was mother who did all this? Shouldn't you want to kill her, instead?"
His grip around her neck lessened, and she could breathe again. Roan was panting as he stood up. With incredible speed, he ran out of the pantry and into his room.
That was the last entry into his diary, and a few days later—on The Long Night—the estate was engulfed in flames.
******
"What? That's the story?"
"Yes."
"Too much... too little! Who burned the estate down? Was it Alia—Liora, I mean—or Roan?"
"There's no way to know for sure. I don't believe it was Liora, though."
"So it was Roan?"
"I don't think so, either. I believe it was most likely Lady Canterbury."
"How does that make any sense? Why would she burn her home down?"
"I told you she was an unstable woman. I am of the belief that something most likely happened in those few days between Roan's last entry and The Long Night that caused Lady Canterbury to attempt to... eliminate her entire family."
Marielle gulped, her face pale. It was a disgusting, terrible story. It almost seemed like fiction.
"And how is this supposed to make me more relaxed!? Don't you remember why you were telling me this in the first place? That girl—she's a monster! Even the way she acted in the story... it's hard to believe, but doesn't it only prove further how dangerous she is? She singlehandedly caused the fall of the Canterbury house!"
"You're mistaken, Marielle. Liora was, despite what it may seem, a victim. She was the boy's slave—how would you act in that situation? Even when she was found in the ruins of the manor, she was... in incredibly poor health."
"She was inside a burning manor, of course she was in poor health."
"No, by the time she was found, she had no burns left. Her body—it was incredibly frail and malnourished, like Roan's writings described. I don't believe she was fed during her stay there."
"She'd be dead."
"Can't you let me finish my thoughts? Lady Canterbury—I believe her infatuation with the Siaryn identity of Liora was as if not more serious than Duke Canterbury's. I'm sure you grasped it, but the duke was a monster-fanatic of sorts. He never grew close to Liora, from what I heard, but it was the original reason for his purchase of her."
"So she decides to burn everything?"
"I don't know why, exactly, either. But that's what I think. You have to understand, Roan's word cannot be taken as fact. His perspective is almost certainly different from what truly happened."
'He really was a brat... but to think all this happened to him, though...' Marielle thought.
"I still don't get why this excuses Liora. Even if she was a victim, why are you allowing Alwyn to teach her magic? You truly expect me to learn beside a Siaryn?"
"I'm telling you, she's harmless. If she was truly willing and capable of any of the things you fear from her... she wouldn't have stayed a captive in the Canterbury estate. All of her actions were simply self-preservation, as far as I can tell."
"That's only your assumption, father. What if she truly was favored by Lady Canterbury and simply enjoyed her time there?"
"It's impossible. When I requested to take her in, I got word back that she was terrified. She said she wanted anything but to be taken in by another noble's estate. She even requested a labor job—to be a slave to the government. There's no way she didn't know what that entailed, and that says enough."
"What, then? You want me to sympathize with her? Feel bad? She's... a monster."
"Oh, my daughter, you're too stubborn."
"No, maybe you're growing senile. It's as uncle told me—your decisions make less and less sense as I age."
Duke Saivelle's face darkened, and his fists clenched. Then he sighed.
"I understand that, since Alwyn and his party arrived, you have been nothing but wary. But you have never seen outside of Corvailles. If, when the time comes for them to leave, you still wish for a different teacher, I'll get one. I just... I have to warn you. You won't get a better education in magic. Not for what you need. Not even The Thaumaturge would be satisfactory—that's if he'd even teach you."
"I understand. Goodbye, father."
She turned away, opened the door, and left, slamming it behind her.
'What a story... did he seriously think that would change my mind? Uncle was right, he's gone absolutely mad! Completely mad! That damn story only makes it more certain—Liora is no girl! And, that wizard, and Lin, too—they're probably just as bad as her. I don't know what father sees in them, but I don't care. I have standards! Morals! I—'
"What pissed in your breakfast?"
Marielle ran into someone, forcing her to stop and look up. It was a woman—vaguely familiar, yet unknown.
"Who...?"