“Lord... Lord... the Th...Thi...Third Prince...” she stuttered, despite the pain.
“You liar! Do you take us for fools? The Third Prince didn’t bring any attendants with him, you lying whore! Show us your identification!”
The first man ruthlessly slapped her face, before jerking her up by the collar around her throat. Cassandra cried out in pain as she was strangled by the iron while he read the inscriptions engraved on it.
“Lady Lyria of the Green Narcissus Family... Isn’t that one of the Fifth Prince’s new concubines?”
“It is. She belonged to that old Minister who was beheaded three days ago. I’ve seen her wearing the red dress. She’s quite a looker.”
“You little wench, did you really think you could escape your mistress while you were in the Palace?”
They slapped Cassandra again, continuing their insults as they dragged her out. Holding her between them, they ignored her fearful pleading as they forced her through the corridors of the Palace, slapping her mercilessly to stop her gasping sobs and feeble pleas. She tried hard to hold back her tears despite the pain and agony she was in. They had no pity for a runaway slave.
After being brutally hauled through countless corridors, she was suddenly thrust out into the Imperial Garden, where a few concubines not attending the Imperial Banquet were drinking and partying together. Tables were set up for a moon-viewing, and a handful of servants were pouring wine for the ladies present. The concubines all wore elegant dresses paired with expensive and glittering jewels, each determined to outdo the other. As they ate and sipped wine together, they showered each other with backhanded compliments behind beautiful, fake smiles.
The servants violently hurled Cassandra to the ground, at Lady Lyria’s feet.
Cassandra was petrified. Lyria had been her mistress for five long and torturous years, since the day she had entered the Minister’s House. Though that woman was stunningly beautiful, behind the alluring face she was a cruel and malicious bitch. She never hesitated to whip her slaves, even without a reason. She threw tantrums whenever she didn’t get attention, and cried fake tears to manipulate any situation to her benefit.
The Minister had fallen for her graceful beauty when she was only fifteen, raising her from the modest position of her birth, to that of noble status, and she had been ridiculously arrogant ever since. She was truly as ugly on the inside as she was beautiful on the outside. Cassandra knew her wickedness had no limits, recalling how she poisoned one of her rivals merely because she was jealous, and how that same jealousy had led her to physically disfigure another.
Being brought back into the presence of Lyria was a nightmare for Cassandra. The concubine glared down at her with disgust and turned to the servants.
“What is this?”
“We found her in a Prince’s chambers, my Lady. She lied to try and escape us, but we saw her identification collar and brought her straight back to...”
“Why would I care about that bitch?! She should be dead! I was tired of her, so I gave her as a tribute to His Highness! How the hell is she still alive?! Where was she?”
The two dumbfounded servants looked at each other, both left feeling ill by the concubine’s unexpected reaction. Lyria, on the other hand, was absolutely infuriated to have been disturbed while she was gloating about her new status to the lower-ranked concubines. Seeing Cassandra alive fueled her anger. She had hated the slave from the very beginning, and had sent her to her death to finally be rid of her once and for all.
“She... she was in the Third Prince’s chambers…”
Cassandra was trembling in both fear and pain. Lyria’s unpredictable anger was something that scared her more than anything.
Her fear was justified when, without warning, the concubine suddenly hurled her full glass of wine at Cassandra’s head. One of the concubines screamed as the glass shattered on the ground. A shard reopened the bruised gash on Cassandra’s temple, courtesy of one of the Palace guards earlier that morning.
“You slut! How dare you! How did you even survive The Offering?! And then, to hide in one of the Prince’s chambers! You unworthy little leach! I will finish you myself. You won’t escape death again! You...”
She fisted a handful of Cassandra’s hair and started jerking her head violently, as she screamed at her. But she suddenly froze. Everyone in the garden had heard it too.
A dragon’s angry growl, right above their heads. Everyone present turned their heads towards the north wall and held their breath in fear.
Standing there was a large, furious dragon. Glaring at them with its red, reptilian eyes, while one large paw was grasping the muraled wall, the other scratching the stone one. The black beast growled menacingly again in their direction; no one dared to move an inch. But Cassandra raised her head, despite Lyria’s grip, to look up at the dragon.
“The... the Th-Third’s Prince’s...dragon,” stuttered one of the terrified concubines.
None of the other servants or concubines said a word, petrified into silence. The Black Dragon couldn’t possibly be mistaken as any other. It was the biggest among its peers and the only one of its color, with its obsidian scales and blood red eyes. It moved, stepping effortlessly over the wall and stalking towards them. Garden statues and lush plants were crushed under its huge feet as it continued forward, growling angrily.
A few concubines and half a dozen servants ran off, screaming in fear. Those who remained were frozen in their spots.
All except one.
“Ha! See! His own dragon has come to finish you off! Why would the Third Prince have any interest in a worthless slave like you?!”
Lyria was so sure of herself, she brutally shoved Cassandra into the arms of a nearby servant.
“You! Give her to the beast!” she ordered, as if she knew what was going on.
