Lois strode toward the source of the scream.
When he entered, the scene before him made his lips curl.
Hoffman was half-naked, disheveled was writhing in the grip of the woman Lois had sent in with him. Her arms were locked around him like a steel trap, keeping him in place. Meanwhile, the masked man held a knife to Hoffman's throat, the blade glinting under the dim light.
Hoffman's muffled grunts came from beneath the cloth tied around his mouth. His wide eyes reflected nothing but panic.
Lois approached leisurely, his gaze sweeping over the pathetic man before him.
"What took you so long?" he mocked, crouching down to meet Hoffman's terrified stare.
The smirk on his lips didn't reach his cold eyes.
"You are filth," he murmured, voice laced with quiet menace. "Even the worst curses would feel insulted if thrown at you."
Hoffman's breath hitched.
"Why are your eyes widening?" Lois asked, amusement lacing his tone as he pressed down on the knife at Hoffman's throat.
A thin line of blood trickled down his neck.
Hoffman let out a muffled cry, body jerking in terror.
Lois reached into his coat, pulling out a dagger. He didn't hesitate. With a sharp stroke, he ran the blade from Hoffman's forehead down to his cheek, slicing just below his eye.
A scream tore from Hoffman's throat, muffled by the cloth.
Lois tilted his head, admiring his work. "That," he said, voice calm, "is for every woman you destroyed."
He leaned in, his breath brushing against Hoffman's ear.
"If you scream when I remove the cloth, I will stab you straight in the belly. Clear?"
Hoffman shuddered violently but nodded.
Lois smiled, slow and devilish, before ripping the cloth away.
Hoffman sucked in a shaky breath but didn't dare to scream. Instead, he rasped out a curse. "You'll regret this, Lois. I have men. The moment they realize I haven't come back…"
The masked man chuckled darkly, cutting him off. "Oh, you mean those three men who came with you, ?"
Hoffman sneered. "Yes. Them."
But the smirk fell from his face the moment he saw the glint in the masked man's eyes.
He simply smiled, tilting his head. "You should have chosen better men."
The man in black clicked his tongue and grinned back at him. "Oh, they are all dead. I made sure of that." Hoffman's face drained.
"Forget it. Tie him up and take him to the forest and inquire. If he cannot answer, just throw him down the hill," Lois stood up. "We are leaving."
Lois and his fellows mounted the horses and left the city, with the cart in which the women were there following them.
In the morning, Liora woke up. She was still dizzy, with her head feeling heavy. She had blurred memories of yesterday. She tried to remember, but she could not fetch them. Her head was aching badly. She glanced around herself. She was on a bed in a room that was not hers. Hurriedly, she looked around, searching for her sac, which was not there. She got down from the bed and ran toward the door. She looked around.
Was I still in the inn? So her escape plan had failed. Miserably.
"Oh God…" she muttered and ran toward her room. It was on the floor below. She inclined on the stairs to see whether her uncle was up or not, hoping that he was still asleep. Trying her luck, she tiptoed to her room and closed the door.
Soon, her uncle knocked. "Liora, are you there?"
Liora startled. "Yes." She opened the door.
Henry asked her to get ready. "We need to meet Her Highness."
Liora smiled lightly and closed the door after Henry gave her fifteen minutes to get into the carriage. They would be late otherwise.
As soon as the door shut, Liora's eyes flooded with tears. She sat down, overwhelmed by the weight of what had happened. If only she had escaped successfully.
But soon, after traveling the remaining distance, they reached their destination.
The palace gates creaked open, and the carriage rolled smoothly along the well-paved road. On instinct, Liora gazed out the window. Beside her, Henry sat in silent awe of the grand, majestic palace. After a routine inspection at the entrance, the carriage was allowed to proceed toward the main building.
Inside, though Liora was distracted by the view, her mind remained tangled in the events that had led her here. Time had slipped through her fingers. She clearly remembered everything until she saw those men and women in the cart,after that, her memories blurred.
Right now, Henry's voice pulled her back to the present. He had been silent throughout the journey, but now he finally spoke.
"The queen dowager is expecting us. Behave yourself, Liora. Do not embarrass this family further."
She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded silently.
The carriage came to a slow, creaking stop. A servant in a pristine uniform stepped forward and pulled the door open. Liora hesitated before stepping out, her legs trembling slightly as she adjusted the hem of her dress. It was one of her finer garments, yet it paled in comparison to the elaborate attire of the palace staff.
Her uncle followed, his expression grim. He gave her a once-over, as if checking that she was presentable, then turned toward the grand entrance.
"This way," a steward said, gesturing toward the towering double doors that led into the main hall.
As they reached there, In midst of the room sat a lady,
"The queen dowager," the steward announced with a bow.
Lilian Blackthorne, Queen Dowager of Duskholm.
Liora sank into a dignified curtsy, her hands shaking as she struggled to maintain composure.
Lilian's sharp eyes lingered on her, a flicker of curiosity passing through her otherwise cold expression. "So," she said finally, her voice measured and commanding, "this is the girl."
The moment Liora attempted her curtsy, the queen dowager's gaze narrowed. It was clumsy...her trembling legs barely supported her as she bowed too low before correcting herself awkwardly. The royal lady's lips pressed into a thin line as her gaze drifted to the bruises on Liora's hands....faint purples and greens marring her skin like ugly stains. She must have gotten them last night.
The queen dowager wrinkled her nose. She had a taste for perfectionit ,was evident in the way she dressed. She wore deep sapphire fabric, shimmering with embroidery woven so finely it looked like liquid silk. Her light brown hair was arranged flawlessly, not a strand out of place.
"What is your name, girl?" she asked sharply.
Liora flinched at the sudden question. Lowering her gaze, she stammered, "L-Liora Miral, Your Majesty."
Lilian tilted her head slightly, her piercing gaze scanning Liora with unnerving precision. From the faded hem of her dress to her scuffed shoes and trembling hands, nothing escaped her notice. She nodded slowly, her pursed lips filing away every flaw.
Her attention shifted from Liora to Henry. "Tell me about her."
Henry straightened, careful to sound neither too confident nor too hesitant. "Her name is Liora Miral, born on the second day of the fifth month. She turned eighteen last year. She is the daugh...."
"Details, not history," the queen dowager interrupted brusquely, waving away his words.
"Yes, of course," he stammered. "She is unmarried, literate in the minimum letters and manners, and skilled in only the most basic forms of embroidery. She suffers from no illness or bodily infirmity, save for..." He hesitated, his eyes flicking toward the bruises on Liora's hands before quickly looking away. "She is... qualified for the position."
The quiet scratching of a quill filled the room as an attendant recorded every word.
The queen dowager arched a brow. "Suitable. Take her inside. Check her thoroughly," she ordered the maids.
Two maids stepped forward, and they took hold of Liora's arms.
"Come along, miss," one of them said before dragging Liora toward the door.
Liora hesitated, her hands moved in the air in the process of getting a hold of anything while she requested the maids, "Wait… Please, wait."
The attendants didn't stop, their hands tightening as they began pulling her forward as their madam had ordered them. This panicked Liora, and she turned to her uncle, raising her voice in desperation.
"Uncle! Why… Why do I have to do this? What is happening to me?"
Everyone in the room saw the state of Liora, including Lilian, but before Henry could say something, Edgar, the steward, announced aloud,
"Because," he said without hesitation, "you are being sold to the royals."
Liora froze the moment she heard that. Those words cut her like a blade. Her breath caught as her eyes flicked toward the source of the voice, but she could not see who said that. The attendants hauled her again, and her uncle didn't look at her at all.
Tears streamed down Liora's face as she let herself be taken away without trying to resist.
Sold.
"I am being sold, but Aunt just mentioned… marriage," she muttered to herself.
Lilian watched her go, and when the doors closed on Liora, she turned to the attendant with the ledger. "Note down every flaw. My son will suffer no surprises."
"Now, let us discuss the rest of the arrangements," Lilian looked at Henry.
Inside the room, Liora wept aloud. Her chest heaved, and her body twisted as she squirmed under the insistent hands of the maids. She raised her trembling hands to try to hide her body behind them. She backed into the wall when she was pushed.
"Away!" she screamed. "Don't touch me!"
"Miss, calm down," one of the maids requested Liora. "We're only following orders."
"I don't need to be checked!" Liora shouted, her voice breaking. "I'm not some animal for sale!"
The maids exchanged uneasy glances but didn't relent.
"This isn't up to you," one of them said, stepping closer. "The queen dowager has commanded it. We must ensure..."
"I don't care!" Liora interrupted, tears streaming down her face. "Let me go!"
She struck at the maids with a lashing blow that knocked over a tray of neatly stacked towels. The clothes fell to the floor. They tried to hold her again, but Liora's foot skidded on the marble floor, and she fell back, gasping in shock.
In her struggle to regain balance, her thrashing hand pushed one of the maids, who stumbled and fell sideways.
It happened in a moment.
The maid fell into the brass basin of boiling water that had been carried into the room, her scream cutting through the air as the hot liquid splashed over her arms and legs. The crash of the metal basin hitting the floor rang through the room as the maid shrieked in pain, and the other attendant gasped.
Liora froze, her heart pounding in her chest. Her wide, tear-filled eyes darted to the maid writhing on the floor, clutching her reddened skin, and then to the other attendant, whose expression shifted from shock to anger.
"You clumsy girl!" the uninjured maid shouted, rushing to her colleague's side. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to," Liora stuttered, her voice little more than a whisper.
The hurt maid groaned, her face pale and contorted in pain as the other attendant tried to help her.
Liora's legs gave way beneath her, and she sank to the floor, her hands trembling as she pressed them to her face. She knew what the hot water was for. She wasn't a child who could be lied to about such things. They were going to inspect her body as if she were nothing more than goods, stripping her of the last shred of dignity she had left and then calling for a midwife to check her virginity.
This was a practice she knew about. Back in her town, while volunteering at small clinics, she had seen this hot water bowl kept below a chair without a cushion. The midwives used this method to ease pain and check for purity in a very humiliating way.
As one of the maids went to complain to the Queen Dowager's steward, Edgar, he entered the room with his usual stern expression, his eyes taking in the sight of the overturned basin, the injured maid, and Liora trembling on the floor.
"What is going on here?" he demanded, and everyone in the room went silent.
The maid who was unharmed stood up, annoyed but kept her voice low in front of Edgar. "Sir, the girl put up a fight against us, and now this! Look at what she has done....she's burned Leina with hot water!"
The steward's keen eyes flicked to Liora, who lay curled on the floor, her tear-streaked face hidden behind her hands. "Enough of this nonsense," he barked. "Get her cleaned and ready at once. The queen dowager won't tolerate further delays."
The injured maid was carefully helped out of the room by another attendant who had rushed in, leaving the steward and the remaining maid with Liora.
The steward crouched beside her, his voice low and cutting. "You think this little display will save you, girl? You've only made things worse for yourself."
Liora shook her head, her voice breaking. "Please… Please don't do this."