Leon sat on the soft material of his bed as the physician sewed up his wound with precision. And though the experience would be a hurting one, he was far from it. No! He was hurting more than the sewing could hurt him!
"Put this in any of your drinks," the physician said and placed a portion on the nightstand. He left shortly after instructing a maid to see to it that Leon's wound was washed the following day.
Leon let out a sigh of relief when the room turned silent. He had every right to celebrate his new life yet he found nothing amusing in his eyes. Even the wine he had always admired was lying on the table untouched. For some odd reason, this palace felt like a cell, and he, a slave.
And Aria! Her face came into his mind, looking hurt and betrayed. Her last words to him made him swallow, and coupled with the look she gave him, he knew she meant every syllable of it!
