"The... The Chronicles of Beasts?" Philip murmured, disbelief evident in his eyes as he stared into the determined eyes of his Lady. "W- Why, My Lady?... Why do you want—"
"I was adducted last night, Philip."
His body stilled like a bucket of ice water was dumped on his being by her words. "W- What?..." His voice was barely a whisper.
"Did you really think I ran away, Philip?"
"Oh dear no, My Lady! I know you would never. But... But I can not help but question why. Why would anyone adduct you? Who would? For what purpose?"
"Those are questions even I do not have the answers for, Philip. But that is not the part of my concern right now."
"Huh?" His head crooked in confusion.
About parting her lips to speak, Philip immediately grasped her hand and pulled her forward. "Pardon my foolishness, My Lady," he led her to the cushion seat he was previously on, motioning her to sit as he squatted next to her.
"Please, My Lady..." His eyes softened in care and worry. "What exactly happened to you last night?"
Sylteena's eyes lowered as she took in a deep breath, bracing herself for the traumatizing memories she was about to recall; memories now engraved in her mind for life.
With each word she uttered, from being kidnapped by an intruder to being tied to a sled and abandoned in the middle of the woods like a mere prey, Philip's eyes dilated in petrification as his face blanched and his blood ran cold.
With the description of the hound-like beast that had first retrieved her, before the frightful experience of the peculiar tall being that stood above the height of trees, Philip's mouth ran dry as his lips remained agape, still struggling to grasp the reality of his lady's words.
After finally explaining her sudden awakening in what seemed to be the beast's cocoons, she narrated her condescending experience with the village she had escaped to and those that dwelled there before finally concluding her story to their present moment.
Philip could not speak for a fully drawn moment with his eyes peeled wide.
Sylteena inhaled deeply, wiping the last traces of tears on her cheeks. "I need my father's book, Philip... "
"But why?!" His pitch heightened with the spec of fear and worry in his eye. "Why do you want to study such vile creatures? Things that even the renowned sorcery scholars condemn as cursed beings that shouldn't be studied or researched on."
"I need that book, Philip. I need to understand what exactly I saw last night. The information I have of them are just vague late-night tales Father used to tell me... But I know he has documentation of voluminous information on those creatures and more."
Philip immediately shook his head, "My Lady, that book your father owned is regarded illegal now. Along with every other research paper he hoarded."
"Yet I know Father did not destroy them. And neither did you after his death before the Pearsons moved in."
His gaze lowered with an empathetic grimace. "My Lady... Please..." He bowed, "Your father already made the mistake of immersing himself in that forbidden knowledge and even introducing them to you bit by bit... Please, do not start what he once started before his passing."
Looking up to meet Sylteena's stern gaze, Philip's expression fell deeper at her determination as she insisted once more. "I need that book tomorrow, Philip... Please," her hand rested on his shoulder, squeezing gently as her eyes softened. "I need to know and understand what I saw with my very own eyes..."
"But why does that matter, My Lady? You are here now, safe and sound, after a bare escape with your life... Please, why are you still dwelling in such dreadful curiosity??"
Sylteena only stared into the brown eyes of the middle-aged man kneeling before her, his dilated pupils subtly pleading for her safety.
A weak smile tugged the edge of her lips. "Please, Philip... Just do this for me," she took hold of his shoulders. "Please... I need to understand why the creature, Sliqruki, didn't take my life."
Philip's brows quirked.
• • •
As the blue-grey hues of dusk enveloped the Greenlands of Werleria, the majestic carriage of Elfendon glided through the palace gates. Inside, uneasy Philip, the advisor to Elfedon, fidgeted with anticipation, his mind racing with the weight of the events ahead.
Watching from above in the royal chambers of the prince's bedroom, Sylteena, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, silently observed the carriage leave the royal premises.
Her expression fell deeper.
After the long moments to finally convince Philip to fulfill her pleading request, Sylteena was ordered back to the prince's bedroom, where a group of reluctant grumpy maids had to attend to her bath and evening beauty routine before leaving her dressed in the night robe she was now standing in.
Waiting moments longer by the glass window, Sylteena finally stepped away and towards the bed before perching at an edge.
Her fingers gripped into the fabric of her dress, her eyes still lingering on the window, which was now locked at its hatch.
A nerve-wracking precaution was taken due to the subtle trauma of being kidnapped the previous night. Sylteena gulped softly.
The bedroom door pushed open, forcing her attention to shift to the figure that walked in sluggishly. Her brows arched at the sight of Prince Anthony.
Dressed in the same outfit he had retrieved her with from the village, the royal Prince shut the door behind him before pacing to the closet room, where Sylteena's eyes continued to trail after until he was out of sight.
Moments later, he finally stepped out in a set of casual clothes — Sylteena slowly rose to her feet, lowering her head to a bow. "Good evening, Your High—"
"Get away from the bed."
Before her head could rise to catch a glimpse of his face, an invisible force suddenly shoved her body to the side, forcing her to stagger — she lost balance and landed on the floor, snapping her eyes at the prince who now stood at the foot of the bed.
Watching him with wide eyes, Sylteena remained silent, taken aback by the fact he'd just used sorcery to shove her when she was still going to obediently step aside. Anthony then climbed onto the bed and laid on his back, pulling the cover over his feet.
With his eyes on the blanket he maneuvered, he then said in a calm tone. "I am sure you can manage the floor."
He turned to face the other direction and snuggled in the blanket. "Or anything you see fit," were the last words he said before the cloud of silence descended the room.
Seated still on the cold wooden floor, the orange lights from the candle chandelier above their heads illuminated the cold, spacious walls around them, where Sylteena's wide eyes fixed on the figure in the bed before roaming the room.
She swallowed bitterly, gingerly pushing herself off her behind to dust her dress. Her eyes then fell on the couch at the other end of the room not too far from the dressing mirror.
Sylteena inhaled softly as she steeled the last shards of her dignity and carried herself to the piece of furniture, where she curled her body to find a sense of comfort despite the chilling air that caused goosebumps over her uncovered skin.
She shut her eyes with her arms wrapped around her body, taking a moment longer in the silence before she began humming a particular melody to herself.
And so, the cold torturous night went on until the delayed clutches of sleep finally saved her from the grasp of her reality.
But within the walls of the royal conference room below, sat four persons on the roundtable.
With Queen Rebecca at the head of the table with her youngest son, Wilhelm, to her right, the two royal members had their eyes locked on the pair opposite them.
The room was shrouded in the eerie shadows cast by the blue light illuminated from the torches; the eyes of the pair seated opposite the queen and prince had a mischievous gleam.
"Well now..." Rebecca finally broke the silence after the weight of the couple's words had finally set in. "... For you both to have suggested such a scheme for your very own niece's future," her lips curled into a grin. "It is clear as day that you two never took her as your blood indeed."
The Duke and Duchess of Elfedon offered her Majesty a subtle bow before the Duke, George Pearson, spoke in a meek tone. "Relation or not, Your Majesty... The crown comes first."
Genevieve Pearson nodded. "And for the future of the royal lineage and throne to be secured, we must take the necessary actions... Even if those actions require sacrifices."
The Pearsons smiled.