Chapter seven

Edric

 

I didn’t think she would run that fast. They usually didn’t.

They usually ran immediately or after a long week of unbearable work designed to break their spirits.

Either she was very stubborn or already broken.

I was going to find out which.

‘She obeys well…when you watch her,’ Bane offered, understanding my conflict.

“I’m not going to watch her every waking moment, Bane,” I said out loud. I could talk out to my wolf when there was no one with me.

It was something I was sure every werewolf did.

They just never admitted it.

‘I will. Just be around her.’

“Shut up.”

I got back to writing, trying to solve these equations, while simultaneously crafting some poetic pieces for the next festival.

Muzan would represent me, since if I came out, the people would run, anyway.

It wasn’t worth it.

‘You don’t like her?’

I didn’t know how to respond to that question. I mean…I didn’t like her, but only in the sense that I didn’t like anyone.

Other than that, I couldn’t say otherwise.

‘Your heart skipped a beat. That’s all I need to know.’

I hissed and dropped the pen. Sometimes, I forget this bastard is inside me and sees and hears everything that my body does. Even my thoughts.

“You jump to conclusions further than your reach, Bane.” I shook my head and stared at the paper in front of me.

It was half empty with the equations I was solving.

I couldn’t think straight.

Everything led back to thoughts of her, looking so lost. So vulnerable. Women brought here were stubborn and determined, or submissive and ready to serve.

She was neither. Just lost.

It ached me a little.

I picked up my pen to try and write out the conundrum dancing in my head, but instead of writing Hindu-Arabic and Greek numbers, I was doodling.

Tracing my quill on the paper, and dipping it in ink momentarily, to lubricate the tip and let it slide around. I tried to keep her out of my mind.

Each line was aimed to get her out of my memory. I slashed and shaded, gashed and etched. I could feel the image of her burn off my memory, but when I opened my eyes, I saw something that made Bane burst out into scathing laughter.

It was her.

Her flowing air and sparkling eyes were represented directly on the sheet of paper. Aside from some blurred edges and faded lines, it was a one-to-one replica of my hostage.

This didn’t feel right, but Bane was having the time of his life.

I shook my head over and over again, trying to shake off both the image of her on the paper and the annoying laugh that Bane was using to suffocate me.

‘You’re not letting go of this one anytime soon!’ he guffawed.

Just as he was laughing, the door to my room rattled softly.

The scent of a sweet soup wafted into the room before I saw her, and I knew what it was.

“Come in!” I called. She entered.

The sweet-spicy scent of the soup gave my tongue chills.

I never cared about how food tasted, because I knew how to cook…and yet, somehow, insisted on someone else to cook for me.

Therefore, I had no right to complain about the outcome.

This, however, was a divine delicacy.

I could perceive it from the door, but when it got closer, I could perceive something else.

Foxglove.

It’s a plant that grows ornamentally, and sometimes, could grow as a weed. If ingested by a werewolf…or really anyone with a humanoid heart, the consequences could be fatal.

I took the bowl from her and looked her dead in the eye. She avoided the contact at all costs…indicating guilt.

But then, she would never look at me, anyway.

I took the spoon and started wolfing down the bowl of soup with some bread that she had brought.

She must have expected me to be eating human/werewolf flesh or the like, but I was a wolf. Only Bane ate raw flesh…when I allowed him.

I pitied her, though.

She was about to learn, just how much more hopeless her situation was about to get.

“This is good soup,” I mumbled as I dipped some bread in it and chucked the wet, soup-stained piece into my mouth. “Real good.”

‘I hate foxglove.’ Bane growled.

‘So do I buddy.’ I replied to him internally and continued eating. It was going to give me a little upset after, but not much more than that. My body would digest the entire thing.

But she didn’t know that.

And so, there she stood, those innocent-looking eyes gleaming with desperation, waiting for a reaction.

I was going to give her a reaction.

I clutched my stomach when I was done with the meal and frowned. “What is going…”

Her eyes widened.

I could feel her pulse quicken even more since her heart had been racing since, and I feared any more than this she would have a heart attack.

“What did you put in it?!” I roared and fell off the chair. She jumped and tried to turn and run, but as she opened the door, Muzan slipped in.

He wasn’t concerned or scared. He was amused.

“Master…what are you doing?” he groaned.

“She…poison…sh…” I stuttered and pointed to her, my hands trembling.

“And?”

I grunted and stood up from the floor. “You suck at acting.”

“I know.”

Diana, on the other hand, was spasming. She couldn’t fathom what was happening.

Her plan must have been elaborate. It must have taken her a lot of guts to plan out and execute, and it must have filled her with a lot of hope.

But now, here it was. Dashed to the ground.

Muzan turned to her, and in his signature calm voice, he asked.

What did you put in it?

Her skin is as pale as the clouds on a hot summer day. Her eyes were teary and darting from place to place.

“I…put…I….I….f…I…”

“Foxglove,” I helped her. “She tried to poison me.”

Those words leaving my mouth must have felt like a death sentence to her.