Alcina sips dutifully at the glass of water Brendan had forced upon her, eyes doleful as she peeks up at him from underneath her lashes.Brendan stands over her, arms crossed, not unlike an ominous guard watching with keen eyes as if to ensure Alcina truly is drinking the water. They had hardly made it to the closest parlor room from the courtyard entrance when Brendan had promptly sat her down on a chair and ordered a terrified attendant to fetch a pitcher of water.Alcina sips obediently at her second glass now, shoulders slumped both in exhaustion and misery as she glances up at Brendan through her drenched bangs.“Why do you look as though someone has slaughtered your childhood pet?” Brendan demands.Alcina recognizes the terseness of Brendan’s awkward attempts at caring for someone, but cannot help the slight grimace all the same. “You were watching, weren’t you?” she says sullenly, mouthing at the rim of her cup. “I was terrible-”“You were not terrible,” Brendan begins to say,
Alcina watches wordlessly as the Gifted medic heals Brendan’s palm. She stares intently at the white glow emanating from the woman’s hand, as she hovers it over Brendan’s burned palm. Slowly, the reddish hue of the burn recedes, until Brendan’s palm has returned to its normal state.Alcina wishes she could have been born with a Gift like hers, something that would allow her to chase away the bruises and ailments and scars on Brendan’s skin; not something that would hurt him. Human nature, she realizes, is greedy beyond all belief. How many years had she yearned for a Gift, any Gift, she remembers wishing desperately in these very halls? And now that she has been graced with one, she yearns for something more, still.With a respectful bow, the healer excuses herself, leaving just the two of them in the otherwise empty room. Alcina doesn’t move from her perch, sitting ramrod straight in her chair. Stares at Brendan’s hand, every fiber of her being longing to reach out for it so that
Somewhere far, far below the grounds of the Western Plains, is an elaborate passageway of holding cells, built of heavy metal bars and lit only by the sparse torches.The dungeons, though no one quite likes to use the word.The dungeons have long been empty for years, having only been used once in recent times. And only briefly, too, given that the inhabitant had been quickly disposed of, once all the information had been extracted from his mind with Lord Alfred’s Gift.Today, the unused torches in the dungeons have been lit once more, for a new guest.It is a young woman, hardly older than twenty, her features lovely and delicate in violent contrast to the grimy holding cell she has been chained to. Everything about her seems like a sacrilege, here, in the dank walls of a dirty underground prison; as though she is something that does not belong in a place so dirty and murky.Even the color of her hair - pale pink locks, vibrant even in the darkness of the cell - stands at odds with t
Alcina has always known that her most significant value is her disposability. Alcina was born into the great House Clair. It is a famed and noble House known for its gifted bloodline. Is peerless in its long tradition robust and hallowed abilities. But delinquent to that fame, Alcina was born with neither a gift nor any other outstanding virtue. She had known, early on, that her primary function in this life was to be the spare. Alfred, her older brother, who, even among their revered bloodline, stood out with his tremendous gift as the most powerful telepath to exist in historical records. He would be the heir, and Alcina, his much lacking spare. These are the facts, as they have been decided long, long ago. Alcina knows this. Alcina knows she is a useless and powerless runt who could bring no prestige to the name of the House that values reputation over all other things. She's known that the most fabulous lot she coul
Alcina is sent to the Western Plains, the territory of House Warner, by herself. With a royal retinue, of course, and no less than ten carriages in which her attendants, belongings, and dowry are to be carried. Dowry - given that no one in this arrangement, neither the Clair's nor the Warner's, is unaware of the fact that House Clair needs the alliance more than House Warner. Her parents will not be traveling with her, of course. She came alone to this unfamiliar place filled with foreign people. Her heart shakes with fear but she has no other option. Neither Alfred nor Nordin could come, given that they are too tied up in matters at home, which they will be forced to oversee for another two weeks. Once settled, they plan to travel to the Western Plains immediately to join Alcina, but until then, Alcina is to navigate the beast’s lair alone. When Alcina boards the carriage, hands trembling, how silly, she’s a day’s ride away from
Brendon's point of View, The girl standing in front of him is not what Brendan had expected at all. He had known, from the day negotiations commenced, that his intended must be of the absolute dregs of humanity, for her own family to have been able to throw her to the monstrous creature that everyone says Brendan is. To have willingly, and so easily, offered up their own to the vile, wretched thing that Brendan is. Of course, that they’d traded anyone,castaway or not, to be wedded to the shadowed beast, speaks equal magnitudes about the people doing the giving, as it does the poor and unwanted soul who’s been given away. For a long time, Brendan had speculated about what kind of an undesirable and distasteful person it must be, for them to have been willing to sacrifice her to the beast that they think he is. And then, he’d heard that his intended was born without a gift of her own, that she is just like a
Alcina follows Brendan into the maze.Brendan cannot tell if it is foolishness or naivete that compels her to do so, given that anyone with half a brain would have notfollowed a man they compare to nightmares incarnate, into a labyrinth of which they know nothing about.It’s half the reason Breandan had headed in this direction, to begin with, having grown weary already of having to make pleasantries that he has no desire to make.He had hoped the girl would have enough of a sense of self-preservation, to run away when Brendan gave her the chance.Instead, the little lamb stumbles in after the lion into his den.Though his back is turned, Brendan can hear with perfect clarity, the soft footfalls that come to a petering, hesitant stop a few paces away from him. Too frightened to come any closer, then, he surmises.He spins on his heel.Alcina stumbles back a few steps, alarmed by the sudden movement.
The walk ends shortly after, spent primarily in the same stilted, awkward silence as the trip there.Brendan leads them to the east wing, where the royal families’ bedrooms are located, and now, Alcina’s.Alcina’s room is a spacious, lavishly-furnished room, of velvet drapes and wide windows, with a small but ornate chandelier glittering from the center of the ceiling, in essence, the same as the bedroom she’d just left behind.She can’t help the mild surprise, at how normalit all seems, how similar, to her own home.She knows it’s a ridiculous thought, but--She doesn’t know why or rather, she does, but she’s ashamed to admit it, but the truth is she’d been imagining something less... something less like home.Something that resembled the dark lair in which she’d be kept, imprisoned until the shadowed beast found a use for her.As Alcina stands