The Grip Of Obedience

Tenebrarum's voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. The weight of it was enough to drain all the air from the room.

Aurelia's hands slipped from the windowsill, fingers trembling as they fell to her sides. She didn't turn. Couldn't. Her bare feet remained planted on the polished floor, the sunlight from outside streaking her toes with lines of dying warmth. But the rest of her was cold—throat, spine, soul.

"I wasn't—" Her voice cracked, too soft. She swallowed hard and tried again. "I wasn't going to—"

"Didn't your parents teach you not to play with fire?" His voice was cold silk. "It burns, you know."

He was closer now. She could hear the steady tread of his boots on the marble—measured, unhurried. A predator who knew his prey had nowhere to run.

"You climbed. In full daylight." His breath ghosted against the back of her neck. "You would have slipped."

"I wasn't going to jump," she whispered. "I swear."

"No," he cut in. "You were going to fall. Maybe die."

His mask tilted slightly. "I'll assume you weren't aware. Because I hate liars. That's why the man from this morning is dead."

She turned slowly. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress, crumpling it in her fists to stop them from shaking. His eyes met hers. They weren't angry. Worse—they were calm. Pale black, ancient, pitiless. They held the quiet certainty of storms before they broke.

"I want to go. Please... you don't need me," she said, barely audible.

Tenebrarum's gaze flicked to the open window. Then back to her.

"Yes, we're leaving tomorrow. Forgot?"

He stepped forward, and she stepped back. One more step. And again. Until her back hit the wall beside the window, her shoulders went rigid, spine bracing against cold plaster.

Then his hand lashed out.

He grabbed her wrist tightly. Bone-grinding, skin-breaking tight. Her breath seized.

Pain exploded beneath his grip. Blood welled instantly, sliding over her skin like a crimson thread unravelling.

She gasped—a short, guttural sound—and her knees nearly buckled.

"You're not ready to disobey me yet," he murmured. His face was still, unreadable. "But you're thinking about it."

"I'm not—going to—" Her voice cracked around the pain.

He twisted her arm.

A wet pop cracked through the space between them. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.

His voice dropped lower, colder. "Say it again."

Her lips trembled. Her breath hitched in short, painful gasps. "Please... let go..."

Only then did his hand release.

She crumpled to the floor, cradling her arm against her chest. Her wrist throbbed with every heartbeat. Blood smeared across the front of her dress, bright and unforgiving.

"Close the window," he said softly.

She didn't move. Couldn't. Her eyes were dazed, locked on her trembling hands.

He didn't repeat himself.

But the air thickened around her, pressing down.

Slowly, she pushed herself up—one arm useless, the other bracing her body. Her shoulder knocked the window as she turned. The latch clicked shut.

It sounded like a verdict.

---

He walked away. Not far. Only to the chair near the table where books had been laid out earlier—books she hadn't dared touch. He sat, crossing one leg over the other. The picture of calm. Of power restrained by choice.

Aurelia stayed by the window, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Her arm throbbed. Blood had begun to dry, sticky and hot.

"I asked the maids not to come in," he said. "I wanted to give you the afternoon to rest."

Her voice rasped out, broken. "To trap me, you mean."

He tilted his head. Still. Watching. "If I wanted you trapped, the window wouldn't open at all."

She hated that he was right.

She hated even more that he sounded amused.

She moved slowly to the bed—not to lie down, but to collapse onto its edge. Her body was heavy with pain, each step a new echo of his grip. The mattress sighed beneath her weight. She didn't look at him. She couldn't.

"I don't like sleeping in the afternoon," she whispered.

"You do now!"

His voice was not cruel.

It was doctrine.

---

The minutes dragged.

She sat upright, one arm limp in her lap, the other gripping the edge of the mattress to keep her grounded. The room felt too large. Her body too small.

Finally, his voice broke the silence.

"You were a noble's daughter," he smiled. "Raised in comfort. Protection."

She didn't answer.

How do you know that? Did you cause the deaths days ago? Her thoughts screamed out.

"Freedom. Laughter. Pretty gowns. Safety from monsters."

Still, she said nothing. But her mind whispered, at least you know you're one of them.

He rose.

Crossed the room again.

And knelt in front of her.

The gesture was almost gentle.

Almost.

"But what prepared you for me?"

Her throat tightened. Her lips parted. Nothing came out.

He lifted her chin—carefully, purposefully—with the edge of his gloved fingers, tilting her face up.

"No one warned you... Did they, little rabbit?"

Her voice cracked. "You're not what I expected. I thought I'd be a maid. Or worse."

He smiled. No teeth. No warmth.

"Better. I love that you hate what you're becoming. That's what you were bought for."

---

Then he stood.

He walked toward the door and paused on the threshold.

"You may lie down or stay sitting. But no more windows today!"

He didn't have to explain what would happen if she tried again.

His footsteps faded down the hall, slow and deliberate.

When she was certain he was gone, her body folded forward. Her chest crushed against her knees, pain ricocheting through her injured wrist.

She didn't cry.

She wouldn't give him that either.

But the hurt bloomed, sharp and persistent. Her bones ached. Her skin stung. Her blood dried beneath her sleeve like a binding.

She curled slowly onto the bed. One arm was tucked uselessly at her side. Her hair spilt across the pillow like a shadow curling inward.

The window was shut and locked now.

Even with the sun still high.

But inside this room, the afternoon already felt like night.

---

And somewhere in the house, a voice lingered.

"I told you to sleep, Aurelia."

But sleep was the one thing she no longer knew how to obey.

---

To be continued...