Alrossia could hear the thumping of her heart as Lord Chisthalmagne spoke those words. She was frozen in shock as he withdrew his hand from her and leaned against his throne. Once again, his cold eyes returned and his lips were pursed tightly. Alrossia took two steps back, distancing herself away.
"Surely you do not suppose that all the nobles are pure, yes?"
Alrossia looked at him, confusion in her eyes. "W-What? My Lord, I do not understand."
"Most of the nobles are peasants. They made them a noble."
"W-What are you saying, My Lord?"
Frost covered his eyes as he casually sips a glass of wine. He puts it back into the tray and gently removed the gloves from his hands. He then sat comfortably on his throne.
"Lord Chisthalmagne, what do you intend to do with me, My Lord?" she spoke in an inaudible tune.
"Don't all peasants dream to become a noble?"
She frantically shook her head. "N-No, I am not one of them My Lord!"
"You must be so overjoyed that you have been given an opportunity to sleep with me."
"W-What?"
Alrossia lowered her head. "I h-haven't slept with you, yet My Lord."
"You haven't?"
Her eyes broadened. His words stuck into her mind like gum.
"M-My Lord?" she smiled painfully. "Y-You must be mistaken, my Lord. Never once have I..."
A sharp tantalizing pain shot her head as memories flowed from her mind. Sweat dripped from her forehead as she breathed heavily onto the frosty air. She was suffocating.
The reason why Lord Chisthalmagne had kept her was that they had shared a few moments from before?
She couldn't remember it. The vague memories inside her skull were dull. She refuses to believe him.
"It's impossible My Lord—"
"You had a scar on your chest the last time you slithered into my sheets."
Her face reddened. "My Lord, you must have mistaken me for other women."
"Truly I have slept with many women." he gazed at her with his unforgiving hues. "But you piqued my interest the most."
"When did this happen My Lord?!" she raised her voice and threw her arms in the air. "I have never even recognized your face other than the first time we have met! Not even the palace!"
"Funny of you to assume that we did it in this palace."
She grabbed a handful of her dress.
"Why don't you repeat the same words you have told me back then, Alrossia?" he raised his head high.
The panic in Alrossia's eyes could not be described. "My Lord- I do not remember a single thing from the night I have spent with you."
Lord Chisthalmagne's gaze became sharper. Irritation in the eyes.
"You have forgotten?"
Alrossia nodded. "My Lord— I really do not remember a single thing about you. I remember my childhood but never once of you."
"You do not remember a single thing about that night and yet you look at me every time with those eyes."
Alrossia's cheeks turned into a pale red. "I—"
"Funny how you looked so different now from back then."
"You even threw yourself at me and begged me. You wouldn't leave me to peace so I silenced your cries by myself."
"You must have mistaken me for someone else, My Lord."
"Take off your clothes and show me that you do not have the same scar on your chest."
Alrossia trembled. She did have a scar on her chest.
Years before, when her family resided in the East, a war broke out. A piercing arrow was shot directly into her chest as a child when she fled. Fortunately, the Gods permitted her to live as the arrow barely manages to hit her heart.
Alrossia's mother, Rosé was a surgeon. Her father was a palace guard. When the war broke out, her father abandoned the life of being a soldier and helped her mother take care of their family.
But even as she spent her childhood with them, Alrossia did not even know a single thing about her family.
Why her mother and father fled from the South and what were they running from.
She did not even know that her father would have the pride to sell her.
Nor where her twin brother was.
She wandered everywhere, not knowing a single thing about her existence.
Her silence brought annoyance to the king and thus he became weary of her presence. He frowned in disappointment and raised his hands in the air.
"Leave."
"Who am I, My Lord?" Alrossia asked, as tears streams from her eyes. "Who were you to me, My Lord?"
"Did I not tell you to leave? I am growing weary of these reactions that I did not ask for."
"Surely, you knew that I was a peasant my Lord, and yet you still slept with me. Why is that, My Lord?"
Lord Chisthalmagne did not answer and snickered.
"I suggest you return to me when you want to know every thing."