Sold to the Night Lord - Chapter 18: Chapter 18

And just like that, as quickly as she appeared, she vanishes. The candle flame flickers, and no matter how close I bring it to my face, I can no longer see Ank anywhere. It’s as if she became one with the fire, and thinking about it, that would make perfect sense. After all, she said she was a spirit of fire.
I try to return to my reading with no success. My eyes keep darting from the pages to the flame, hoping to see her again, hopping or fluttering back onto my lap. Possibly several hours pass—too many—and my eyes only jump from one word to another. Witch, banshee, death, ghost. That last one grabs my attention a bit more, as the revelation that ghosts do indeed exist—and aren’t just made-up tales parents tell their children to scare them—unnerves me.
Who knows if I wasn’t right all those times I thought I was seeing things that weren’t there?
My stomach knots just thinking about it.
After this, being alone in the library no longer feels so relaxing, so I head back to my room. I leave the book on the splintered table and climb the spiral stairs, lifting the hem of my skirt a bit. This place definitely needs a good cleaning.
I’m surprised when I reach the entrance hall and see the doors wide open. Drystan, Cassian’s right-hand man, is there apparently giving orders to the guards inside the castle, who avoid stepping into the sunlight. My presence draws no attention from anyone. I’m about to climb the main stairs and disappear into my room when I hear footsteps.
Cassian, clad in a black coat down to his knees with beautiful silver embroidery on the fabric and gleaming leather boots, comes down the stairs calmly. He looks straight ahead and doesn’t seem to notice me until he reaches the last step. He gives me nothing more than a glance before continuing to walk. Just a few meters behind him, I see Mavka descending, wearing a lovely new dress, her chestnut hair cascading in waves down her back, and a new parasol in her hands.
No doubt the marks from our scuffle have been covered with makeup, and she passes by me giving no more attention than Cassian did.
It’s clear how insignificant I am to them.
I climb the stairs quickly, unable to resist glancing at Cassian bathed in daylight. It’s quite an experience to see him during the day; this past week I’d only seen him by candlelight, and the truth is, the sunlight makes him look like a porcelain figure. So perfect, so pale, so delicate…
But all of that is a lie. Cassian is not perfect or delicate. He is a soulless monster, ruthless and without scruples.
Inside my room, Clarissa and Naida are waiting for me, as if they knew I needed some distraction.
“You’re pale, girl.”
“I think I’m suffering from an overload of information.”
I fall onto the bed with a big sigh.
“Of course, so many books…” murmurs Naida.
I look at them more closely and realize they’re in the middle of a card game.
“Did you know that ghosts exist?”
They both nod at the same time.
“And fairies?”
“Of course,” confirms Naida.
“Am I the only one who was unaware of all this?”
Clarissa drops her entire hand of cards on the little tea table near the balcony, which, seven days after my arrival, is still tightly shut. Naida lets out a victorious cheer.
“I think you haven’t had much time to bother thinking about your surroundings,” Clarissa begins. “Being born knowing your fate is sealed, that you’ll end up becoming what you are now, would kill anyone’s curiosity.”
“Of course, you’ve spent your entire eighteen years thinking about this moment,” adds Naida. “It’s normal you didn’t notice everything around you.”
“Do other people know about it?”
“I’d say many suspect it and quite a few know. Would it really be so strange for there to be other beings besides vampires? To me, it would be stupid to think otherwise.”
“I’ve never seen anything the books mention,” I protest.
“Well, it’s not like they want to draw much attention either, and you certainly weren’t using the right perspective.”
“The right perspective?”
“She means you weren’t really looking. You didn’t expect to see something like that, so you simply weren’t paying attention,” Clarissa clarifies.
Resigned to accept that this new world I’ve been born into is far more complex than I imagined, I fall back onto the mattress. I stare at the ceiling for what feels like hours. Clarissa and Naida whisper about things that seem irrelevant to me. A new cook, the fabrics for the next dresses, the latest shade of lipstick that would go well with my skin tone…
“Where did Cassian go?” I ask.
A clear image of his face bathed in sunlight flashes through my mind, and I blink rapidly to push it away.
“When did you see him?”
“On my way back here. He was with Mavka and looked like he was about to leave.”
“Surely to one of those wild parties.” She waves her hand. “You shouldn’t envy Miss Mavka one bit. Like I said, they’re wild parties, and Mr. Cassian is quite prone to chaos and excess. Mavka will probably need a few days to recover.”
“What happens at those parties?” my curious streak asks.
“Everything, little creature, everything.” The small wrinkles at the corners of Clarissa’s eyes deepen a bit as she looks at me. “Things no lady should ever witness, things that corrupt the soul.”
My imagination runs wild, conjuring hundreds of scenes, each worse than the last. Grotesque, merciless acts with Cassian as the executor, covered in blood, his fangs sunk into Mavka’s torn neck. Even if she’s not someone I like, I wouldn’t wish that kind of fate on anyone, such a horrific end.
“What are you imagining now?” Clarissa pinches my cheek. “You’ve gone nearly gray.”
“I have a bit of a twisted imagination.”
She laughs heartily.
“Since Mr. Cassian has gone out, I doubt he’ll return for dinner. I could bring yours up here if you want.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ll eat downstairs, alone. I’d like to enjoy the place now that he won’t be around.”
“As you wish.”
Hours later, seated at the grand hall’s table, with the meal waiting to be devoured, I feel such peace that it’s almost strange. I’m so used to his feline gaze watching every move I make, threatening to snap my neck at the slightest misstep, that now that the seat across from me is empty, I feel odd. Still, I intend to enjoy dinner. I eat in silence, savoring each bite and occasionally observing the room I’ve entered for seven nights and haven’t bothered to admire much.
Like the rest of the castle, the room exudes power, elegance, and extravagance. It’s painted in cream tones, with expensive tapestries everywhere, sculptures of women with bare torsos, paintings on the walls, and solid gold sconces with candles bearing beautiful designs.
I finish dinner and, on my way back, I see a woman in the corridor with a cascade of red curls falling down her back. She stops mid-step to glance back. Narkissa, the one responsible for the new feeders, gives me a look I can’t interpret.
We stare at each other for a bit too long before she breaks eye contact and walks on.
That was strange.
In my room, I don’t find Clarissa or Naida, so I undress on my own and finally slip into my nightgown. I consider reading that book on my nightstand but decided against it. I try to fall asleep, but I toss and turn, haunted by the nightmare from the previous night.
Here, in the privacy of the room, with only the candle’s flame for company, I begin to relive the scene. His body on top of mine, his fangs gleaming white, his eyes swallowed by black pupils, the hunter’s glint in his gaze.
I scold myself again and squeeze my eyes shut. I count mentally, and when nothing works, I try to relax my mind. Eventually, I do fall asleep, but not for long. A scream, high-pitched and feminine, shatters the night’s calm.
I wake up, terrified and with my heart racing. I clutch the blankets tightly and don’t dare set a foot out of bed. Another scream, far worse than the first, shakes me to my core. It sounds like pure agony, like the wails of an animal, like the creaking of a door, like something breaking.
And speaking of doors, Clarissa and Naida burst into the room in their respective nightgowns. Seeing the panic on my face, they rush to my side and run soothing hands down my arms. I don’t have time to ask why they’re here or if watching over me is one of their duties, because there’s another question at the tip of my tongue that begs to be answered.
“Don’t listen,” Clarissa murmurs into my hair. “It’ll pass quickly.”
“What’s happening?” My voice trembles.
Naida pulls me into her arms and rests my head on her chest.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.”
Another scream. So loud and gut-wrenching that all three of us flinch.
“It never gets easier,” Clarissa mutters. “It’s horrible.”
“What’s going on?” I try to pull away from their arms. “Tell me something.”
The tremble in my fingers gives me away, and they both look at me with compassionate eyes. I return a look filled with fear, reproach, and emotions I can’t even name. Outside this room, someone is being torn apart in pain at the very least. Those screams aren’t normal.
“Stop listening.”
“Stop listening to what?”
Clarissa takes a breath before continuing.
“Girl.” Her hand covers mine, trembling and cold. “It’s never wise to anger Mr. Cassian. This is only one of the many atrocities he’s capable of with his power.” A cold sweat runs down my spine. “What you’re hearing… is the sound of a person being completely broken.”