Chapter eight

Diana

 

It hurt to stand.

But I had to. I would need to run…I thought. But he could catch me if he wanted to anytime.

My entire body trembled, and I could barely see out of my tear-stricken eyes.

He was faking it. This monster was faking being poisoned.

Just how much of a mess is this? And how cruel were we to have put me in the jaws of something so inescapable? He should have just killed me.

For the sake of the moon goddess, he should have put a knife through my chest and left me to bleed to my death!

Muzan shook his head. “Come on, now, Diana -”

“No, no…” Edric interrupted. “Let her be. This was a good try. If she does it often enough, I’ll get enough stomach upsets and just might let her go.”

Muzan looked at me. “No, he would not let you go.”

Edric chuckled…humorlessly. “I wouldn’t.”

I did the only thing I could do.

Cry.

I’m sure I have cried more today than I have over the past week. Everything felt like it didn’t want to kill me. It just wanted to suffocate me enough to take the fight out of me.

I didn’t think I could take it much longer.

“Off to your room, princess. You pull a stunt like this, and I’ll rip off your arm as my reprisal,” he waved dismissively and sat down on his chair, like a clockwork.

I couldn’t even move, but Muzan’s hand on the small of my back guided me away from the monster’s lair and toward my own room.

“That was stupid,” he said as we were out of earshot.

I didn’t say a thing.

I just sobbed.

I wanted to leave this place. This felt like the opposite of death. Maybe I was in the afterlife.

Maybe I had jumped off that cliff. Maybe Therion didn’t hold me back, and now, I was suffering the consequences of taking my own life.

I couldn’t think of any other reasonable explanation.

A wolf who could run faster than I could see? Couldn’t be killed by poison? No.

I mean, he might have been an urban legend, but I’m sure a werewolf like that couldn’t possibly exist in real life.

This could have been the devil himself.

I rushed into the room shut the door without a word to Muzan and went to bed to bury myself and sob.

I cried and sobbed until I could sob no more. I sobbed away my fear and over the night, that fear turned into anger. I woke up the next day, noting how surprisingly comfortable the bed was, and had a heart full of anger.

Anger and determination.

If I couldn’t get out, I would annoy him enough that he either killed me or threw me away. Either way, one thing was sure.

I wasn’t going to stay here forever.

I woke to the sound of Muzan’s peaceful prancing. Every now and again, I would hear his footsteps pass but never stop at my door. Not even when daylight pierced hard through the windows.

Had he forgotten about me? Wasn’t there work to do?

I took my sweet time, hoping to annoy them, but nothing happened, until curiosity got the better of me, and I took my bath and left the room.

Muzan was doing…something.

I never knew what he was up to. It was evident, however, that he was always busy. A sack here, a piece of paper there. He never rested. Or at least, I never observed him enough.

“Good morning. Report to the Master’s office with his breakfast. He would assign tasks,” Muzan was as courteous as ever.

He didn’t mention anything about my tardiness.

I hurried into the kitchen and cooked up something. I wanted to add the Foxglove again, remembering something about the plant giving him an upset stomach, but then, I remembered the threat that came with it.

Two hands were better than none, so I decided against it.

I got to his room and didn’t bother knocking. It was part of my rude protest.

“Is that foxglove I smell?” his morning voice was somehow deeper than his originally deep voice, and the baritone spun me, ringing alarm bells in my head.

“I didn’t…I di…” I tried to defend myself but couldn’t. I hadn’t mastered talking to him yet.

“Relax. I was jesting,” he grunted and took the platter from me. As he ate, I stood there, watching him. He was rather cultured for a monster and didn’t have any terrible habits.

In fact, he was more coordinated than my father on the table.

That man ate like a pig.

“Usually, when people serve me food, they leave.”

I stood solid and silent, keeping my eyes on the floor this time.

“I said –”

“I heard you the first time, Master.” I blurted out.

“So, why are you still here?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He didn’t say anything for a while and just kept on eating. My eyes just stayed glued to the floor, waiting for him to permit me to speak.

“Talk, girl. The day is slow enough as it is.”

I took a deep breath and asked the question. “How much did my father sell me for?”

He hesitated for a while.

“Why do you want to know that?”

“I wanted to negotiate my freedom. You let me go, and I would pay back the money you gave to my dad,” I said with every last bit of confidence I could muster.

He shattered it by laughing.

“You think you can pay me back for what I gave to your father?” he cackled.

I raised my head to look him in the eye.

He smiled. It was devilish and I didn’t want that smile to be the last thing I saw before my death, but he smiled.

“If it’s an obscene sum of money, you’ll spend your life paying it back. It’s the equivalent of your service to me here…where I feed, clothe, and protect you.”

He was right.

Only, I knew it wasn’t an obscene sum of money. So, I asked again.

“How much was it?”

“Princess…it wasn’t money.”

My breath hitched.