"Your Highness, the lady's body is still recovering. Please, I urge you to be gentle with her," Selvaris said, his tone laced with concern.
The king arched an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "Are you here to nag me, or are you here to pour my tea?"
Selvaris stiffened slightly, bowing his head in apology. "Yes, Your Highness… My apologies." He quickly reached for the teapot and began to pour, careful.
"But what exactly are you planning to do with her, Your Majesty?" Selvaris ventured cautiously again after a moment.
The king's golden eyes flicked toward him, sharp and unamused. "For a man, you're awfully noisy, Wolfhart," he replied dryly, his tone carrying the faintest edge of a warning.
Selvaris straightened immediately, clasping his hands in front of him. "It wasn't my intention to pry, my king. Please forgive me," he said, bowing slightly. His voice softened as he added, "I was merely concerned for your safety. She's no ordinary slave based on what I've observed. There's a high chance she could be an assassin, yet you've allowed her into your chambers."
Maximus leaned back, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his teacup. "She has no memory," he said simply, his voice calm and deliberate. "I confirmed it when I probed her mind."
"So she was telling the truth?" Selvaris asked, his tone laced with curiosity and skepticism.
Maximus's lips curled into a faint smirk, though it lacked humor. "I highly doubt it," he remarked coldly. "Either someone deliberately erased her memories to use her as a pawn, or she's a skilled magician capable of altering her own mind. Both possibilities are equally troublesome."
Maximus's gaze lingered on the sleeping girl lying peacefully on the sofa. "Aside from being a Drachen, she speaks Götter," he said evenly. "And she's a half-elf."
"A half-elf?" Selvaris repeated, clearly taken aback. "As expected of you, Your Highness. You noticed it right away," he said, then hesitated before adding, "Is that why you dismissed the other nobles' pleas to examine her?"
Maximus didn't immediately respond, his golden eyes still fixed on the girl. He knew Selvaris understood the significance of his decision. Elves—whether purebloods or half-bloods—were rarely seen outside their secluded communities. Known for their unmatched healing abilities, elves were fiercely protective of their kind. Their pride and isolationism were intense, and any threat of exploitation, cruelty, or slavery on their kind was met with swift and unrelenting retaliation.
But it was precisely that which made them so valuable. And for him, the value of getting that ability was all that mattered.
"If she weren't an elf," he finally replied, his tone cold and detached, "I couldn't care less what the nobles did to her." He reached for a cigar, lighting it with a flick of his wrist, the faint glow illuminating his sharp features. He took a slow draw, exhaling a thin stream of smoke before continuing. "Now that I know she could be useful… I intend to use her."
❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
She stirred awake to the soft sound of birds tweeting outside. Her head felt heavy, her body sluggish, and a lingering grogginess clung to her senses. With some effort, she pushed herself into a sitting position, the faint rustle of fabric drawing her attention to the blanket draped over her.
Blinking in confusion, she glanced around the unfamiliar room, her eyes tracing the elegant furnishings and warm light filtering through the windows. But as her gaze swept the space, it froze upon another presence—someone sitting calmly in a chair across the room.
"You're awake," his deep voice remarked, breaking the silence.
Startled, she flinched, her heart skipping a beat as she took in the man before her. He was seated with an air of effortless composure, golden eyes peering at her over the rim of wire-framed glasses. A newspaper lay in his hands, its pages rustling faintly as he adjusted it.
With unhurried grace, he took a sip from the coffee cup resting nearby, setting it down on the small table beside him. The movement was casual, almost disarmingly so, yet his gaze never left her, sharp and observant beneath the calm facade.
She swallowed hard, her body stiffening under the weight of his stare. She felt like a deer caught in the sights of a predator, frozen and helpless.
"Looks like you slept well," he remarked calmly, yet the tone was almost mocking.
Her hands clenched into fists as anger rose in her chest, a flicker of defiance sparking against her fear.
"Na ihma ri ji?" What did you do to me? she demanded, her voice trembling slightly, but her gritted teeth betrayed her frustration. She was tired—tired of being helpless, tired of being toyed with.
Last night's torment was still fresh in her mind. The searing, mind-splitting pain that had forced her into unconsciousness lingered in her thoughts like a cruel echo. And now, the man who had inflicted that agony sat before her, calm and composed, as if he hadn't done something so utterly despicable.
If this man had intended to kill her, she would have been dead last night. But she wasn't. Instead, she now found herself wrapped in a comfortable, freshly washed blanket, her body still intact. He clearly wanted something from her, though what that was, she couldn't yet determine.
"I had to make sure you weren't an assassin," he said in a matter-of-fact tone as he spoke in Götter. "I needed to see for myself."
Her eyes widened in shock. "Y-You went inside my head?" she stammered, catching her off guard.
He didn't respond immediately, but his silence spoke volumes.
"What did you see?" she pressed, her voice tinged with desperation.
The thought that he might have glimpsed fragments of her past filled her with both fear and a strange, yearning hope. She leaned forward slightly, her heart pounding as she awaited his reply.
After a long pause, he finally spoke, tone as detached as ever. "Nothing."
Her breath hitched as confusion flooded her mind.
"It was as if you've never lived," he added flatly, the weight of his words were enough to shatter her.