Vaulting awake immediately with a troubled breath, Marlowe heaved heavily with her heart in turmoil.
What a scary dream that was.
This time, it wasn't about the usual dream that she had somehow gotten used to over time. But it was something else, something more dreadful than that.
Shutting her worried eyes, she placed a palm on her pounding chest that sped erratically.
Slowly beginning to recall what made her this afraid.
Red eyes! Sharp fangs! and an unruly face filled with scars and burns. It was too scary to look at.
Marlowe jerked in fright from the recollection, a gasp fleeing her lips.
"Oh God, help me," muttering hush prayers in an attempt to calm herself down.
That weird dream had just sparked a flame in her heart, increasing her will to not be among whatever plans that were being carried out by the Royal Castle.
It fueled her fear drastically and there was no other way of calming down now.
"It's today!" just then, she recalled in a whisper. "The Royal banquet is today!" how she wished the day never arrived. No, even better, how she wished she wouldn't have awoken instead.
There was no point in absurd wishes now. There's absolutely no time for that.
Just then, a knock echoed on her door before the person behind it appeared in front of her.
It happens to be her father.
"Good morning, Papa," she greeted with apparent gloom written all over her face.
"You should get prepared immediately, the banquet will be starting at the eighth hour. I heard the Castle will be discharging carriages to every household so be ready on time." he informed, and strode out immediately, leaving room for her to get herself ready.
Marlowe's shoulders dropped. Even when it sounded impossible, she had harbored hope that her father had come to give news that the King had retracted his order.
It was just another one of her wishes that never came true.
She sighed.
Disheartened, Marlowe stood from her palisse, she made her way to the bathroom with a frown on her face.
It took her more than thirty minutes to be done with her bath—obviously she deliberated on it.
Unlike in many other kingdoms she had heard of, that maidens drooled and fawn all over their kings. There were even rumors of them attempting seduction just to get in the king's or prince's bed.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the case here.
The mere mention of his name causes trembling knees and rampant fleeing. Without even having to have a glimpse of his face.
He had implored dread and terror on their land. He's merciless! Evil! Tyrannical! Everything bad and uncalled for.
Yet the powerless citizens of Valcresh could do nothing but follow under his reign without so much as a word.
Marlowe felt a crawling sensation on her pale skin and shivered lightly. It still seemed like a terrible nightmare to her, that she was going to be stepping foot in the cursed Castle of Valcresh.
But then again, just as her father said. She's not alone. They're definitely going to be other maidens there as well.
In fact, noble ones and especially…ones from his kind as well.
Assuring herself this, Marlowe took in a whiff of breath and released them in an instant. Seems like there was really nothing to fret about.
At that exact minute, unfamiliar noises resonated from outside which gained her attention.
That fear she had just rid away returned back tenfold.
With furrowed brows and a tumultuous expression, Marlowe instantly dashed outside, in worry of what it might be this time.
Only for her to arrive at the scene of a large caravan awaiting at the front of their hut. Making it look out of place—seeing such regal object in front of their shabby cottage.
To the other side, Marlowe spotted her father in a bowing stance. Her heart picked up its pace from the sight. Snapping back, she hurriedly walked to his side and bowed as well to the elegant figure that descended.
Too scared to look him in the face, Marlowe just stuck her gaze to the floor, not even curious to look up.
"Rise," came the order from the man who had just descended the carriage.
In obedience, Hebron was first to straighten his pose, before Marlowe did as well.
"Lord Zethan," she heard her father address the man. Only then did she raise her eyes to his face.
"My Lord," she greeted as well.
She recalled him to be the King's right hand man—according to the rumors.
Always in execution of the King's wicked orders.
Remembering this, instinctively, Marlowe initiated a step backwards. She could feel the dangerous aura oozing from him. His dead-straight face did nothing but intensify the warning signals she was getting from him.
"I'm here to accompany Miss Alnov to the Royal banquet as commanded." he informed, looking directly at Hebron.
Marlowe felt her life flee from her grasp. She was too terrified to even let out a gasp. She flung her gaze to her father, seeing he was about to cooperate, Marlowe shook her head sideways slowly, but what could she do?
She was very well aware that she's powerless to refute…in fact, saying a word of protest now will be a suicide mission, because she was sure that she'll be executed on the spot for disobeying the King's order.
Hebron turned to her, seeing the fear in her eyes, he wished he could assure her that everything will be fine. And that she'll surely come back home again.
Immediately, he masked his own worry. Putting on a facade of being unperturbed.
"Dear," he called her. "be good and go on." without waiting for a response from her, he went on. "Remember what I said to you? It'll be fine." he concluded with a smile that really didn't look much of a smile.
Marlowe inhaled deeply. Having no choice she nodded in hopes of what her father had said.
But she couldn't help that lingering feeling of doubt in her chest.
Before she turned away from him and headed to the carriage, she wore an apologetic expression that didn't look too obvious. As if saying sorry in advance for not believing him, for not believing that everything will be fine.
Her plans in mind still stood firm.