Esme's POV
Getting home, my princess was curled by the door and instantly latched on my legs when she saw me. Was there anything cats did other than eat, sleep, and rule the house when we weren't in? She did those perfectly though.
"Ah, Denim!" I swung her around. "Today, I didn't bring anything from the event, but I can make you something quick." I took off my outside shoes, grabbed the apron, then swung off the dress I wore, having my shirt and black shorts underneath. "Let's get to work!"
If my Uncle had seen me, he'd ask, "what lady wore shorts and shirt inside a silk dress?"
Me. His niece. The weather was cooler these days and I didn't have friends to huddle with at events. Silk was too light.
"Oh, Levine returned." I said to my cat, making her food. "Darn him, but he looks better now. Taller too." I dropped the plate in front of her. "He said he came to celebrate my nineteenth but he obviously came back to get married." I shook my head.
"Which unfortunate girl did he lay his eyes on? Does she know he nearly killed us thrice in his adventures?" I glanced at Denim eating and went back to the kitchen. "Better her than me, for sure."
Talking to myself—and Denim— had kept me mostly sane for the last few years.
Levine travelled in and out of the region to train with his Uncle since he turned sixteen, in hopes that his werewolf genes kicked in as he was a rare half-elf too. This last trip was the longest, but soon he'd be married and leave forever.
It'll just be Denim and I soon enough.
My birthday came on the family holiday.
Uncle started with an unusual gift, a black velvet dress with a jacket. A ruby jewellery set that matched my blood-colored hair and brown eyes. He also told me that they'd be a painter at the lake we'd be fishing at.
My body had shook terribly. My uncle never indulged me in feminine hobbies because he said it didn't suit me. Yet here I was swirling around in my dress.
This suits me!
"Denim, don't I look like that lady's daughter during her engagement party?" I struck a pose identical to her. Keeping a hand on my waist, my left shoulder forward, and angling my head.
Denim yawned. I took it as a 'yes'. I stared at myself, long enough for my smile to fade. Was this really a parting ceremony? Did Uncle want to get a painted image of me because he wouldn't be seeing me for a while?
He might've raised me to be tough but he'd never been tough on me and I felt every win or pain I experienced. Was all this so he could move on? "Are we really going away, Denim?"
The door slammed as uncle arrived, angry, possibly because the neighbour's dogs were barking at him, as always. "Young lady, let's leave. The painter would arrive any minute." He said, back turned to me.
My smile returned and I hurried to him. "The dress is beautiful. Thank you."
He turned to me and dropped the baskets he held. "Hmm… make a spin."
I frowned but did as he said. I faced him, with a raised brow. He nodded as if he approved of something. "You're welcome." He continued packing the baskets of bread and fruits.
"Cost you a fortune, didn't it?" I teased.
"Yes, and it's custom-made. Costs half of my livelihood."
My jaw fell to my legs. Half? Was he playing along with me? Did he really customize a dress for his one and only niece? My eyes fluttered furiously. "Really?! I didn't know I meant that much?" I was only half-teasing. "To be fair, I am your only niece but you're also the best Uncle I could ask for."
"Stop your chattery and pack the cat." He scolded, but I knew he liked it. "And do that in less than twenty minutes."
I swirled in the dress again and grabbed Denim. "Yes, sire!"
We left afterwards and for some reason, I hoped no one saw me in this dress. It was pretty, but I couldn't help but think it probably didn't suit me.
We arrived just before the sunset and my uncle arranged for the picnic. We were alone as the painter hadn't arrived.
I helped arrange and stayed at one end of the mat, waiting for the bad news he'd drop as we were ready. "What?" He asked. "We can't start fishing right away. You could stain yourself before the painter comes."
"I know." I looked away. "Why... are we doing all these though?" I tried to sound cheerful.
"Don't we always do this on this day?"
"Yes… but without the dress and painting. Why are they important today? Why does everything feel… different?"
He made a long sigh, and looked up.
"The Seven Princes of the Deity would take you today."
Silence.
"Hilarious, Uncle." I said dryly, stroking Denim's fur to calm down. "Did you think it was a good joke?"
Why did he bring up my bed time stories when the mood was serious? It's been six years since I heard them because he had repeated the same plot for years.
"I'm serious."
"So am I." I asked directly. "Are you sending me away?"
"Essentially, yes."
I gasped.
"But I don't want to. I mean, it was prearranged…or simply speaking, it's an inheritance. It couldn't be avoided." He straightened his back while mine slumped.
Yet my fists molded to strike him if he had really sold me out to a merchant.
"Isabella in that story… is you. The Seven Princes of the King Deity—Sins from the Goddess' children that have form. You are a Mast... Mistress, in your case, and should subdue them. It's essentially having butlers as a coming-of-age gift but they're… more powerful than Alphas. You come of age today."
What did he mean by all these? My fist loosened. It sounded worse than I imagined.
Or did it?
In his story, Isabella was an orphan girl whose father made a pact with a Deity to help babysit his sons. The Seven Deadly Sins in form, brutes, and powerful. They had powers rivalling the Five Bloodlines gifted to the kingdoms of the Goddess. Those Bloodlines were worth at least three Alphas each.
And I was Isabella? A Mistress to Seven Princes whose power rivalled these Bloodlines? It sounded almost, the thought was, exciting.
"Mark." I called his first name. "Why am I knowing all of these now?"
"Because it's easier for me to be happy when you were oblivious. Would you have preferred to have taken your role while you were younger?"
He looked at Denim. "If there's a way you can also convince her, please do. I dreaded this day coming all my life."
His voice broke. I couldn't look at him. Would I have preferred to take my role while I was younger? As if there was anything of great significance that had happened to me.
I turned to Denim. "Isn't she just a cat?"
"Maybe, but she's a gift to you by them on your thirteenth. She might be more."
I had noticed. She's smarter than the average cat and understood me like a person would. Even that one time I watched her injury heal instantly.
I looked him in the eyes. "So am I… also… an orphan like Isabella? Father dies in sickness and mother dies later in war?"
Silence answered me. Denim left her basket and wrapped herself around me, comforting me even if I looked blank on the outside.
I couldn't remember my mother, or father, and I had the faintest memory of a boy I played with.
I didn't imagine my parents would hate me so much that they'd all stay away for years.
"Did I have a sibling? A brother?"
His face scrunched up, and he frowned slightly. "You've already lost everything worth having, Esme. I'm very sorry."
I inhaled and exhaled. The painter walked down to us with his buckets. We both wiped the tears streaking down.
"I'd help him set up." I left my Uncle and dropped Denim.
How would a wolfless girl like me subdue Seven Princes, each stronger than three Alphas?