12. Did I Go Too Far?
Selene Borealis
I was furious. Too upset to handle her in the moment. I needed to calm down before interacting with Percy again.
My maddening little half-witch had pushed too far past acceptable behaviour. Perhaps it was my doing. I had become too lenient with her, allowing her freedoms and privileges she was not yet ready for.
Valen’s abduction of Percy had been so very traumatic. I felt responsible, and I had been making up for it by attempting to better care for my pet. But my attempts to better care for Percy had created a spoilt brat who felt it her right to question—nay, argue—with me in public during our time at the Academy, and now before an Ardens councillor.
Fotis of Cliffwind would undoubtedly speak of the incident. Even the servants would be whispering about it by tonight!
Did she have no sense, or was it simply a lack of respect for me? Did she not understand the importance of my stature—of showing only strength? She was already viewed as a weakness of mine, a target for others to take and/or harm for use against me. If it was suspected that she was more than simply a valued and beloved slave—suspected that she held sway with me, could influence my decisions, make demands, that she was in some way in control of me—the consequences would be disastrous.
Not only would it open a new avenue by which those seeking to destroy me and Borealis could use to their advantage, it would lessen my standing among our allies, call my leadership and intentions into question. The smell of war is in the air, and has been since the night of the summer ball. Now is not the time for Percy to be acting out.
I need to correct her behaviour, push her back into place. Firmly, but not so rough as to harm our bond.
I rubbed my temples. A headache courtesy of my little pet.
The bond was growing stronger, my enchantments were failing more regularly. Thankfully, it seemed that for now, it was I who suffered more from the bond. Percy’s feelings were beginning to bleed into my own with worrying regularity. I was not sure if my anger in the dining room was entirely my own, or if the tight-chested feeling of Percy’s anger fuelled mine further.
Had I been too rough? I had not harmed her. Caused slight and non-lasting pain, yes, but no actual harm.
Why did I care? Why did I question my actions?
This was my problem. The reason I had allowed Percy to run amok these past months. No more. I had to rein in my emotions and be objective. Percy was strong-willed and overly empathetic.
I must help her control her impulses, and to behave in a respectful and acceptable manner with me. She was my soul match, and I loved her dearly, but she was also my pet, a half-witch. Nobility might be in her blood, but her standing was below mine. And until, or if such time as I managed to change the social structure of the land, Percy had to play her part within it. Even then, it was in my nature to control. Even if our social roles were reversed, I would still have her beneath me, on her knees, under my hand.
I had suppressed my nature for too long, paining myself in the belief that I was caring for my pet, but I saw now that my lack of firmness was causing us both pain. If Percy had kept her mouth shut as she should have, she could have beseeched me in private. I may not have changed my mind in this circumstance, but in others she may have been able to argue a reasonable casefor her cause. I would listen. Of course I would listen. Instead, she chose to challenge me publicly.
“I must apologise. I feel rotten,” Fotis said as I took my place at the dining table.
“My pet’s behaviour is my responsibility. I have handled the insolent creature. That is the end of the matter,” I replied.
“Yes, Marchioness,” he replied.
There was a lull in the conversation, a silence that fell over the table, interrupted by the arrival of our starters for the evening.
“I heard—well, we all heard—what we thought to be the maze,” Fotis broke the silence. “I think it spooked the others that are spending the night and why they have chosen to eat in their rooms,” he continued.
“Yes, the maze was active earlier,” Adamantia said.
“It appears that a new and young servant had entered the maze the night before last. His disappearance was only noted this morning when he was absent from his duties. After some questioning, a friend of the boy came forward and confessed that he and some unnamed others had dared the boy to enter the maze.
It has been quiet, unmoving for some years now, I cannot remember the last time someone was foolish enough to enter, anyway the youth of the staff had believed the nature of the maze to be nothing more than fable. A fatal mistake.
We have been waiting on the maze ejecting the body, so that we may send him home to his family, we had hoped that it would not happen while yourself and the others were visiting. But the maze does what it does, and we have no control, other than to adhere to the clear warning sign posted and leave it be.
The servants have been warned not to so much as speak of the maze again, for fear that future others may be tempted to enter.”
“A tragedy,” I added.
I was impressed by Adamantia’s quick and believable explanation.
Truthfully, we would not know who had entered the maze until the body was retrieved. All servants were fully accounted for.
Ardens was unsettled. Adamantia had sent reports of rebel activity to me during my time at Sanguis: small-scale espionage and propaganda, and the occasional violent disturbance.
