Chapter 19: Half-Clothes

~One; he asked her to cut her hair. She did—but he hated it. Beheaded. ~Gave her to one of the lords for a week, but found her disgusting to look at when she was returned. ~Another was too obedient, another too stiff. ~A couple were found dead in their rooms—poisoned, assailant unknown. Aria scanned the rest, her eyes darting from line to line as a cold realization settled like a stone in her gut. Her lips parted but no sound came. The conclusion had been clawing at her, hovering in the back of her mind—but now it stared her directly in the face. ’They didn’t do anything wrong... He just stopped wanting them.’ She felt her fingers curl around the sheet of paper as she silently passed it back to Rymora, her breath growing shallow. Her voice came out sharp, laced with tension. "The ones that were poisoned?" she asked, her brows furrowing. "It wasn’t the King?" To her surprise, the maid instantly shook her head—firmly. Her whole body moved with the gesture, her black hair shifting over her shoulders as if her whole soul rejected the thought. Aria had passed the paper and pen back without a word, her expression demanding. The girl didn’t hesitate. Her hand moved quickly, the quill scratching furiously across the page with practiced grace. When she handed it back, Aria’s heart skipped a beat and her own eyes widened as she read. "No! The King is all-powerful. He kills them in the open. For the ones that were poisoned or had some form of accident... it is rumored that it might be Lady Vivian: the King’s Blood Source and former lover!" Aria’s brows shot up as confusion painted her face. "Blood source?" she asked, as she handed the sheet back once more, though her patience with the back-and-forth was starting to fray. Still, there was no one else to ask. She waited as Rymora wrote again, and when she received the sheet this time, her breath hitched slightly. "Vampires drink human blood as a staple food, but Pure Vampires with bloodline abilities—like the King or the Lords—need a Vampire Blood Source whose blood is compatible with theirs." "Human blood is not enough. If they had to depend only on human blood, they’d drain hundreds in a day! That’s what I know." Aria read the words over twice, eyes narrowing. The implications rattled in her brain like loose chains. Not only did she have to watch Zyren’s every move, she now had to worry about his insane lover too. "Do you know vampires’ weaknesses?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, stepping so close to Rymora their shoulders nearly touched. She kept her tone so low that even if someone pressed their ear to the door, they’d hear only muffled breaths. But before she even finished speaking, Rymora was already shaking her head—vigorously this time, with her eyes wide and pleading. Aria didn’t care. She shoved the paper and ink into her hands again. ’I need to figure out how to kill Zyren,’ she thought bitterly. ’Even if I have to kill everyone in this cursed mansion to do it. I’ll pay my penance in the afterlife.’ Rymora’s hands trembled slightly as she took the pen, but she began to write. When she passed it back, Aria snatched it instantly, her eyes darting across the words. "Silver. There’s also the sun, which is extremely dangerous to them. Apart from that, I know nothing else—unless they get seriously injured and are unable to get a blood source in time." A deep frown crept across Aria’s face. Nothing new. Nothing she hadn’t already known. Her disappointment was palpable. "Fine," she muttered, tossing the paper back to Rymora without another glance. Her eyes wandered across the room, finally taking in her new environment in full. The room was exquisite—opulent in every sense. A chandelier hung overhead like a glittering web, casting delicate shadows over velvet chairs, silk curtains, and golden trim. But it all meant nothing. It wasn’t hers. It was nothing but a temporary cage. She had just moved to sit on the edge of the massive bed when Rymora suddenly crossed the room, heading toward a towering wardrobe in front of the bed. She pulled it open with both hands in a swift motion. Aria froze. Her eyes widened in absolute horror. "What the—" she gasped, breath catching in her throat. The sight that greeted her was like something out of a twisted nightmare. Dozens of garments hung in an orderly display... except they weren’t garments. Not really. Her eyes darted to Rymora, who was already scribbling frantically with an anxious expression plastered on her face. She passed the note without waiting. "These are the clothes you’re required to wear. Each one matches the collar and the chains." But Aria didn’t even register the note at first. She was too busy choking on her rage. Her fury built in her chest, molten and fierce. "What are these? Are these supposed to be clothes?! HELL NO!" Her hands shot out and grabbed one of the outfits. It was the most modest of them all—a long, ankle-length piece with sleeves. But it was made entirely of transparent white lace. ’Did the seamstress fall ill and die?’ she thought bitterly. Why would anyone create such an abomination?Yet, it was the most decent of them all as it covered her arms and reached her ankles—except for the fact that it was completely see-through. Her heart had just been thumping and racing in her chest when she slowly forced her heartbeat to settle down as she slowly began to think of solutions to the huge problem in front of her. ’It’s not so bad! If I wear an undergarment it could work!’ she muttered under her breath. She was trembling now, her heart pounding like war drums. Her breath came in short bursts as her gaze trailed to another piece—a tangle of thin straps that wouldn’t even properly cover her chest, let alone her body. "Sacrilegious!" she gasped aloud as she placed a finger on her forehead and drew a line down to her nose, a symbol of faith in the God of Light which her family worshipped. Her voice was low. "I might as well become a whore..."Her cheeks burned, crimson and hot, as her eyes moved to the chains and collars dangling at the side of the wardrobe. Her body jerked back instinctively, like they had reached out and scorched her skin. Her attention was completely fixed on the wardrobe that she didn’t notice Rymora writing vigorously on the paper in her hand as fast as she could with a worried expression on her face.