In the Nest of the Fallen Serpent - Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Her eyelashes fluttered at the threat of being put up for auction if she refused. Then, her thin eyelids lifted, revealing peach-blossom eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Don’t look away until the bidding is over. Watch until the very end.”
The slave, their body ravaged by the whip, was eventually sold for a pittance, a truly wretched sight. Benedict only allowed her to turn her head away after the purchased slave had been led out. Even then, it was only to the side, to face him.
“Have you figured out what you should say?” He pressed for an answer, though it was already predetermined. She wouldn’t be foolish enough to endure the same pain again. Surely, she would speak as he desired. Her cracked lips parted weakly, resigned.
“Never…” Tears welled in her round, gentle eyes, finally overflowing and tracing paths down her cheeks. “…Never again. I won’t run away again.”
Benedict had finally obtained what he wanted: her vow not to escape, and her precious tears.
***
Having achieved his objective, there was no reason to remain at the auction house any longer. Retrieving her had been his last task in the capital. He planned to depart for his estate as soon as day broke.
Instead of wasting time, Benedict rose from his seat. The woman hesitantly followed suit. It was commendable that she possessed at least one virtue of a slave: not questioning her master’s movements. He was leading her through the hallway from the auction hall towards the building’s entrance when a voice called out from behind, “Who is that?”
Benedict reflexively grabbed the slave’s waist.
“Hhh…” She gasped, suddenly pulled against him. He subtly frowned, belatedly realizing his action.
“Benedict.” The irritating voice spoke again, giving him a reason to justify his possessiveness. Even if she was a slave, he had no desire to display his property, especially not to a loathsome enemy. He lifted his head, his displeasure evident.
“I am not a ten-year-old child, Your Majesty.” At the mention of ‘Your Majesty,’ the rabbit in his arms flinched. He disliked her reacting to anyone other than himself. Benedict pressed down gently on her head, preventing her from looking up, and warned in a low voice, “Stay silent.”
He might gouge out those pink eyes if she dared to look at the Emperor. If they exchanged even a single word, he’d cut out her tongue. She seemed to understand, holding her breath. Benedict kept his gaze fixed on the Emperor, Conrad.
“Ah, I’ve made another mistake.” Conrad approached, a playful smile on his face. “It’s a habit from when we were younger. I’m sure the Duke understands.”
“A mistake…” Benedict couldn’t hide his sneer. “I, too, find the title ‘brother’ more familiar than ‘Your Majesty.’”
The Emperor’s feigned smile instantly froze, his expression hardening at the barbed words. “Ah, you disliked being called ‘brother,’ didn’t you? It’s been so long, I forgot. Of course, it was a ‘mistake,’ so I’m sure you’ll understand.”
The sound of gritted teeth reached his ears. Unperturbed, Benedict waited. In the end, it was Conrad, the Emperor, who backed down. “…Duke Oaklien.” The woman in his arms flinched and then began to tremble subtly.
Benedict, his eyes lowered slightly, quickly realized why. Ah, he hadn’t told her his identity. That he was the commander-in-chief of the enemy nation that had destroyed her homeland and beheaded her king. Even so, nothing changed. She was his slave. Benedict tightened his grip around her.
“By the way, the auction is still in full swing. Are you leaving already?”
“Nothing caught my eye.”
“Really? That’s surprising. An auction of this scale hasn’t happened in years. Everyone’s quite excited.”
