Chapter 1— Blood of a Farsuleia

LARISSA AURÉLIE FARSULEIA

I winced in pain as I felt the blade made its way slowly through my skin, leaving a fresh cut on my arms. My hand balled into a fist as I tried to calm myself down. The sensation made me let out a shaky breath.

My whole body was slick with sweat, the moisture beading on my skin from the amount of wounds they had inflicted on my arm—I can’t move them since they tied it to the armrest. 

I’m drained, so drained out. I felt helpless, I couldn't do anything but hear my blood dripping down the jar. They’ve been collecting it since I was thirteen. They only do it twice or thrice a year with one bottle. But ever since I turned eighteen, they’ve been collecting it like there’s no tomorrow. Five years have passed yet my dad still doesn’t want me to know what these physicians do with it. It's bullshit, honestly. It even disgusts me how many people in this room crave for my blood.

“Don’t worry, this will be the last time we’ll be doing this to you.” Myra reassured me, the leading physician, while looking at the last jar of my blood that she was holding.

I scoffed and gave her a hard glare. “What’s the point of today if you’ve already said that you found the cure to my condition?” 

Myra shifted her gaze to me, brows raised. “Ever learned to say thank you?” She sarcastically remarked, trying to avoid my question.

I felt the rope, tying my wrists onto the armchair, get loose. I stayed like that, I had no energy to stretch my arms nor speak a word. My head was spinning, even the ground around me started to spin as well.

“Nevermind what I said, I should be the one thanking you.” She then raised the bottle and shook it against the air, looking back at me again. “Thank you, Aurie.” Myra snickered before she left and was followed by the rest of her assistants. 

And just like that, they left with multiple jars of my own blood.  I was startled as the basement door shut, and a loud echo was left behind. 

“Son of a…” I let out a tired chuckle, “How dare you leave me here?!” 

With my last strengths, I stood up on my weak knees. I was thankful enough that my chair wasn’t that far away from the door, it gave me hope that with only a few steps more, I can get out and finally rest.

I took small, slow steps towards the door— but before I could reach for the handle, the door had already opened. I squinted my eyes at the sudden light coming in and watched as it slowly opened. My maid stood there, with shock and fear written all over her face, losing grip on the handle. I tried to speak, but her name came out in a strangled gasp.

“Honoria...” I managed to utter her name, my voice cracking as I lost consciousness. The world around me faded to black, and everything went silent.

—

“Do you feel better, my lady?” Asked Honoria as she blew a spoonful of hot porridge and fed it to me. 

I nodded and added a verbal response, “Mhm.” 

She’s Honoria, my personal maid. She's in her thirties already, but her face says otherwise, it’s as if she’s not growing.  Her long, silky red hair stayed the same, I’d like to think that she didn't have white hair yet because I wasn’t a pain in the bum to take care of. She has been working here since I was a baby, and I practically grew up looking up to her as an older sister, the only person that I can trust. 

“You should eat a lot, my lady, they’ve taken so much blood out of you. Not to mention the debutante ball coming up, can you still attend with your condition?”

“You don’t have to worry a lot, Honoria. I’m used to this.”

A deep sigh came out of her. She gently folded up my sleeves, revealing my arm full of bandages. “How would these wounds heal in such a short amount of time?”

I just smiled at the concern she’s showing towards me. I sat up and took the bowl of porridge from her hands and ate a spoonful of it.

“And that is why I need to eat and get enough rest.” I said in between bites, waving my spoon at her.

Honoria gently pushed me back to the headboard where my back was leaning and took back the bowl, “Just lean over there, I'll feed you.” 

“Ria, I can eat by myself.” I reassured as I tried to steal the bowl of porridge from her hold. 

“I insist. This is the least I could do for you, and you’re trying to take away my job.” She pouted in a joking manner. I giggled at her sudden choice of expression. I mean, you wouldn’t just find a 32-year-old woman pouting, could you?

“You act differently today, perhaps nicer than you usually are? Ria, if you want me to search a man for you in the debutante ball, you could’ve just told me.” I teased her, playfully nudging her arm with my elbow. 

She scoffed, “Are you aware of how many suitors I had when I was your age? I rejected them all, for I don’t need no man.” 

My mouth dropped open to an ‘o’ shape, I turned my head away for a second and murmured, “I bet I could count them—ow!” I exclaimed while rubbing the part of my thigh that Honoria had pinched.

“I heard that.” She shook her head.

I pouted while still massaging my thigh. Honoria stood up from the side of my bed and went to my closet to pick out something. She then came out with the gown I will wear later for our dinner. It’s a lovely, pastel yellow gown, the bodice adorned with delicate pearl embellishments and soft, flower-shaped designs. The skirts’ style was bubble, with off-the-shoulder sleeves and long sleeves that was perfect to hide my bandaged arms.

“My lady, let’s have you dress up.” Honoria said as she hung up the gown on the rack. She turned to face me, arms open to support my exhausted body.

I gave her a faint smile, “I can stand by myself, Honoria.”

On weak knees, I stood up and catched a glimpse of her concerned face. I sighed and told her as I patted both sides of her arms, “Don’t worry a lot about me.” 

I put down my hands and my gaze landed unconsciously on her left forearm. I raised my brows when I saw a fresh cut on it.  “Oh, where did you get that?” 

Honoria raised both of her brows before her gaze followed the direction my finger was pointing. She then promptly placed her right palm over the wound, gently covering it. “I fumbled while I was carrying you back to your room.” 

“Are you not going to bandage it?” I asked again.

“I will later after your dinner. Now, let’s help you dress up.” A little smile formed on her lips as she took both of my hands and led me to a small, secluded room adjoining my bedroom—my dressing area.