"STOP!" Voldrak commanded, his calm tone sharp enough to promise something far worse if the voice didn't comply. It had been speaking nonstop since he left the Paradim and hadn't taken a single break. Voldrak had heard enough.
For a few seconds, the voice quieted. Just as Voldrak considered ignoring its presence entirely, making it seem as if it didn't exist, it spoke again. Its voice was neither masculine nor feminine, but held an innocent tone that could fool anyone into believing in its naïveté.
{My lord, it is against my nature to remain inactive once I've been activated.}
Because you're cursed!
{No, my lord. It's because of the restriction Hydria placed on me,} the voice replied, though Voldrak couldn't help but notice it never outright denied being cursed.
"You can read my mind?" Voldrak asked, his tone deceptively calm—more a prelude to danger than anything gentle.
{Only because you allowed it, and I thought it would aid me in—}
"You are never to read my thoughts unless I give you permission!"
{Yes, my lord.}
This brief interaction was enough for Voldrak to realize whatever was inside his head was dangerous—cursed beyond any doubt.
"What restriction did Hydria put on you?"
{I am to be subordinate to you. You are my lord,} the voice responded, and Voldrak felt a light headache begin to throb, undoubtedly the parasite's doing.
"For how long?"
{As long as you live,} the voice replied smoothly, though Voldrak detected a subtle resentment beneath the surface.
"Are you powerful?"
{Very! With enough pure essence, I could be as powerful as a Supreme,} the voice spoke with pride, unaware that Voldrak was already plotting how best to rid himself of it. If it was as sentient as it seemed, it would be foolish to hope for blind loyalty.
"Can you lie?" Voldrak asked, leaning more comfortably into his chair, noting the slight pause before the voice replied.
{Yes, if you wish for me to.}
Nice try, Voldrak mused, then spoke again. "From this moment on, I order you never to lie to me," before asking another important question. "Are you bound to obey my every word?"
{I am bound to obey your every word, except those that might endanger you,} the voice answered.
Voldrak could already see the loopholes. They were almost glaring, making him dislike the entity even more. Still, he was convinced that as long as he didn't use its cursed power, it couldn't influence him. That much he was sure of.
"Is there a way to deactivate you?" he asked. A pause followed, this one longer and more obvious, before the voice finally answered.
{My lord, have I displeased you in some way?}
"Answer the question."
{There is no way known to me, but Lord Hydria might know,} the voice responded, tinged with melancholy. Voldrak didn't bat an eye as he silently counted the time until Floyda's return.
"I'm guessing you were activated by pleasures of the flesh?" Voldrak said aloud, painfully aware that the voice had first appeared when he felt pleasure course through him.
{Yes, my lord.}
Without pause, the voice continued.
{There is the automatic or manual option. Which one would you prefer? This is completely in your control.}
"Shut up! I order you not to say another word until I command otherwise!" Voldrak snapped, making sure to phrase it as an order that left no room for ambiguity.
As soon as the voice fell silent, he heard footsteps approaching from the side. He knew who it was even before she arrived and was somewhat delighted to see Floyda in her new clothes. He was surprised to note they were black, even after he told her she could choose whatever she liked for herself. He was even more amused to see that her outfit was an exact replica of what she had previously worn—a black sash tied around her chest, looking slightly more comfortable yet doing nothing to hide her pointed, weighty breasts. Below her waist, a flayed skirt hung loosely. He found the look suited her.
"You didn't have to get your clothes in black," Voldrak said as she walked closer, placing a bundle on the table meant for him.
"I am Floyda Black now—nothing more," she responded, her eyes sincere. Voldrak couldn't help but be slightly taken aback by her honesty, watching as she gave a light bow that barely qualified as one.
A smile tugged at the edges of Voldrak's lips, but then his gaze caught on a red bruise at the base of her neck—too large to have been caused by something small and too fresh to have been inflicted at a distance. His eyes roved across her chest, noting more bruises, and a subtle rage began to stir within him.
Without speaking, Voldrak picked up his new clothes and put them on, only breaking the silence once he was fully dressed.
"I'm guessing slaves aren't treated well without their masters?" he said in a casual tone, examining the black pants and long garment held together by clasps.
"My lord, these bruises are nothing. They will—" Floyda started, only to be interrupted as Voldrak raised both hands and placed them on her shoulders. Despite her height and size, he was still slightly taller, and he was glad for it.
"It doesn't matter," Knowing that addressing it directly would only make her feel worse and she was his responsibility. He didn't like it but until the circumstances changed, she was.
"After today, everyone here will think twice before touching you," he told her, his voice carrying a weight of promise as he turned and began walking toward the door of the cookhouse with a spring in his step.
I'll kill one of the high family heads. If that doesn't cause enough waves, I'll kill Adrani, the clan leader, too, he decided, impatient to gain enough power to become the biggest snake in the hole.