"Aramus Valentine never smiled. It was as if he was made from marble. A man who had lost all he could give." — The Lovely Villainess Chapter 12
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Cain searched around, his expression turning somewhat sour. Where could that little girl have gone? She was small and still sick. How come no one had seen her walk around? It was as if she wasn't even there. The covers were untouched, and there was no sign that someone else was wandering around the mansion.
Pressing his fingers against his temple, Cain exhaled. "Where do little children like to hide?" He mumbled. During his studies, he hadn't ever found anything to tell him where children liked to go. Alas, he hadn't been very interested in books about childcare, he had only expected to be looking at such books when he was going to get engaged.
Yet, his father had told him that he didn't need to do anything for the sake of marriage. It was only love that should move him, and with a melancholy smile, he gently tapped the top of his head.
Cain didn't know his mother. The servants spoke of a grandiose love story between his mother and his father, and yet whenever Cain tried to bring it up, there was an uncomfortable silence. His indomitable father, the one that would move heaven and earth for him, seemed to grow old and weary.
It had been an hour and yet, the mansion had been tossed in disarray over a small child. "Where did I like to hide?" He mumbled as he placed a hand on his chin. As a young child, he used to fear his father's wrath whenever he did something wrong. Cain was always quite a scared child, curling up with his books instead of his sword.
Walking to his mother's old room, he saw small footsteps in the dust. His father hadn't come in since her death. Walking inside, he opened the closet to see the young child sleeping. Cain exhaled, "We are very much alike." He picked her up, pressing her against his chest.
She was blistering hot. Despite her fever, she had somehow wandered into a place where no one had wanted to go. It was as if she sensed it. Cain placed a hand against her forehead, the young girl squirmed away from his touch. What was her name?
Teleporting back into the office, Cain's oxfords touched the polished wooden floors. Aramus was looking through some papers as he finally peaked at the duo, "You found her."
Mina exhaled, placing a hand against her chest as Aramus chuckled slightly, "Where did she go, causing such a fuss? She's just like you, don't you think?" He inquired, crossing his arms over his chest and placing the documents down. Mina's fingers twitched as if she wanted to smack Aramus for neglecting his duties.
"She's similar to me," Cain responded, looking at the sleeping child, "She was hiding in mother's room."
A shadow cast over his father's gaze as Mina spoke up, "She must still be ill. Let me see her." Whenever his son talked about his mother, there was an uncomfortable stifling air that Mina seemed to fracture. She placed her one hand atop the young girl's forehead, her skin was blisteringly hot and then there was a soft glow of light.
"Mina!" Aramus exclaimed grabbing her shoulder as Mina exhaled.
"It isn't much. She just has a fever."
His sanguine eyes pierced the shorter girl, "It's your vitality." He inspected the new open wound on her hand that had been in payment for the healing process. Mina's magic couldn't come from nothing. Something had to be sacrificed for healing. Thus, the giant scar that ripped across her shoulder down her chest ending at her hip bone made him close his eyes.
Finally, I awoke.
My green-blue eyes looked at the scene in front of me, "Hello?" I inquired. I hadn't interacted with anyone in my childhood. I wondered how to socialize with people who weren't even my age. I kept myself as polite as possible as I shuffled in this man's arms. "You can put me down."
"You caused quite a fuss," Cain said bluntly while he placed me on the ground. He didn't sound upset, rather he spoke rather factually.
I bowed my head, "I apologize."
"You set your house on fire," Aramus said, his fingers brushing over the blood on Mina's hand as he ripped the sleeve of his shirt to wrap the wound much to Mina's displeasure. I hadn't ever read about a character like her or the man that was holding me.
What was I supposed to say in response? Should I plead for mercy?
"I did."
There was no reason to hide it. I had come covered in flames as if the mercy of the world was at my feet. My cloudy mind had somehow convinced me that I should feel warm, that revenge and vengeance would make me feel better.
"You need to learn how to control your powers," Cain responded, sitting on the couch. I didn't know who he was, but he had an uncanny resemblance to Aramus. Were the two of them siblings? I didn't remember hearing anything about Aramus having any family.
Mina exhaled, pushing away from the Duke to kneel. Despite her rather icy face, she looked at me with kindness, "You must be wondering who we all are." Her voice was pointed, wielding the blade at both Aramus and Cain.
"I am Duke Valentine. This is my son Cain Valentine, the heir apparent and this is La—"
"Mina," she cut him off. Brushing some of my hair out of my eyes, "You can call me Mina."
I nodded.
Who were these people? I had a distant recollection of the book but I think I would have remembered reading about the son of Valentine if he was in the book along with Mina. Aramus, the man who didn't smile or show any emotions was scowling. He had bandaged Mina's hand as if she was precious to him; the only person precious to him should have been Kalypso.
What was happening?
"My name is Ceasaria." I bowed my head, unable to use my last name for I didn't even know it. All these facts weren't given to the reader and they weren't given to me. "I thank you for letting me stay here."
Aramus looked at me, I could feel his gaze as heavy as a ballast. A crown that I didn't want. My body didn't shift, I managed to keep my gaze planted on the floor.
"Father isn't going to hurt you as your parents did."
Cain's voice was sharp, but it was honest. I quickly averted my gaze to something else. Did I sound as if I was scared? I wasn't. In all honesty, I no longer feared the abuse that my maternal and paternal figures gave me. That was what scared me the most. I had become so used to it all. Somehow, it had become ingrained in very living.