A Tyrant’s Touch

The sound of Valeria's laughter froze me in place. It wasn't the cruel, mocking laugh I had expected but something softer, almost amused. She raised her hand the very one I had bitten and inspected it with a curious expression before her cold, melodic voice pierced the silence.

"Are you a dog, to bite me like that?" she asked, her tone sharp yet laced with something akin to humor.

A dark aura coiled around her, wrapping her in an ominous shroud that sent a chill down my spine. My heart raced, each beat pounding like a war drum in my ears. I closed my eyes tightly, bracing for the end. Surely, this was it—she was going to kill me.

But nothing came.

Instead, I felt a warmth spreading across my injured foot. Confusion overrode my fear, and I dared to open one eye. What I saw nearly made my heart stop. Valeria knelt by the bed, her gloved hand hovering over my injured foot, tendrils of black magic swirling around it. To my astonishment, the wound knit itself back together before my very eyes. The pain vanished, replaced by a tingling sensation.

As soon as the magic faded, Valeria withdrew her hand and stood. Her gaze, sharp and unreadable, met mine, and for a moment, I was struck silent.

She hadn't hurt me. She'd healed me.

The words tumbled from my lips before I could stop them, my voice filled with disbelief. "Since when can dark magic heal people?"

Her crimson eyes softened not in kindness, but with something that almost resembled amusement. Her hand reached out, resting lightly atop my head.

"Little fool," she said, her tone dripping with condescension. "Of course dark magic can heal. Its nature depends entirely on its wielder." She tapped my head lightly, as if I were nothing more than a petulant child.

I blinked up at her, stunned by her explanation and the casual way she touched me. "I'm not a fool," I muttered, crossing my arms and pouting before I could stop myself. "I just didn't know that."

She chuckled again, a rich sound that sent an unfamiliar warmth through my chest. I dared to glance at her face, and for the first time, I truly saw her not as the cold, calculating tyrant I feared, but as a woman capable of laughter and a smile that, to my surprise, was… beautiful.

The thought jolted me back to reality, and my stomach twisted with shame and anger. This was the woman who had destroyed my kingdom, who had killed my father. No amount of unexpected kindness or fleeting smiles could change that.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, intent on leaving. My body screamed at me to get away, to create as much distance between myself and this dangerous woman as possible. But as I stood, her voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Stay on the bed and rest," she said, her words casual but carrying an edge of authority that brooked no argument.

I hesitated, clenching my fists. "I don't need to rest. I—"

Her gaze snapped to mine, sharp and unyielding. It wasn't her magic or her strength that stopped me it was her eyes. The weight of her stare pinned me in place, and all my defiance crumbled.

I nodded reluctantly and climbed back onto the bed, lying down as she had ordered. My heart burned with indignation, but my body moved on instinct, as if obeying her was a natural law of the universe.

"Good," she said simply. Her tone was cold, but there was a flicker of something else satisfaction? Amusement?

"I expect you to still be here when I return," she continued, her voice dropping an octave. "If you're not, you will be punished."

The chill in her words left no room for doubt. I swallowed hard and nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her. The silence that followed was deafening.

I stared up at the ceiling, my thoughts a tangled mess. My body was still, but my mind raced, replaying the last hour over and over again.

What does she want from me?

She had called me her personal servant, a cruel fate I was certain was meant to humiliate and torment me. Yet she had healed me. She had carried me when I was too weak to walk.

Is this part of her plan? To give me hope, only to snatch it away?

My chest tightened at the thought. I didn't understand her, her actions, her motives, her whims. One moment, she seemed every bit the tyrant I had always feared. The next, she was something else entirely.

And her smile…

I shook my head, burying my face in my hands. I couldn't allow myself to think like that. She was my enemy. She had ruined my life, destroyed my family, and turned me into a pawn in her twisted game.

But as much as I hated her, as much as I wanted to believe she was irredeemably cruel, a small part of me whispered that maybe, just maybe, there was more to her than I realized.

I clung to that hope like a lifeline, even as I feared it would be my undoing.