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His brooding eyes fixate on me with an intensity that could peel back the layers of my soul.
"You're a beautiful doll, aren't you?" he muses, his tone light but underlaid with steel. "There's fire behind those sparkling blue eyes. Yet here you are, poised and composed."
Beneath this obedient shell, my mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one a desperate grasp at the hope I've been clinging to.
"Are you afraid?" Karul tilts his head, studying me as if I am a puzzle to be solved.
"Terrified," I admit, because vulnerability can also be a weapon.
"Good." Karul's lips curve into a half-smile, acknowledging my strategy.
He's more than he appears, this dark elf noble with scars that tell tales of survival. His black shirt and a purple tunic, matched with a pair of tight pants aren't exactly the common outfit of someone in his position.
I notice a crude-looking necklace resting against his chest—a stark contrast to the opulence surrounding us.
It adds to the illusion of this noble dark elf who presents himself as anything but, yet his presence buzzes with a commanding sense of power. It is consuming.
I put together the pieces quickly, assessing the enigmatic elf I am up against.
I recognize his tactics, a facade, showing all the things you want people to see on the outside and shoving away the ugly parts of yourself, the trauma and the pain, your true desires down deep on the inside. It's like looking in a mirror.
"What do you think, Aqura?" Karul asks another elf seated beside a table of drinks
“A vision,” Aqura replies.
“Would you like to fuck her?” Karul asks Aqura, who looks down at the drink in his hand.
“Well, I mean, of course not. She belongs to you,” Aqura stutters.
“Correct answer, Aqura,” Karul replies. The authority in his voice almost makes me flinch, though I do well to suppress the urge.
“Tommus, make ready the carriage,” Karul commands.
Tommus bows and exits quickly without a single word, leaving us in an oppressive silence. His gaze then turns to Aqura, who quickly gets the message and follows out the door.
The space between us is charged with a tension I can't quite name. He stands before me. His gaze is inscrutable as he unrolls a piece of parchment. From what I can make out, the script is elegant, but its content is likely anything but.
"This is your contract." he begins, his baritone voice resonating through the room. "It binds you to me. From this moment forward, I am your master."
The words should spark fear, or perhaps defiance, within me. Instead, there's a strange calm. This was expected, inevitable. But there's something beneath his words, a depth I hadn't anticipated from someone of his kind.
"Your name?" Karul asks me.
"Jasmine," I say respectfully. My name is the only thing I possess that is truly mine, and now he owns even that.
His sharp eyes capture mine, and for a moment, I worry he can see through my own facade of obedience I've crafted. He steps closer, and I fight the instinct to recoil. His fingers are gentle, albeit firm, as they lift my chin, forcing me to meet his intense gaze.
"Jasmine," he repeats as if tasting my name, committing it to memory. "A fitting name for someone so delicate and yet... so resilient."
I want to scoff at his assessment; he knows nothing of my resilience. But his touch, unexpectedly warm, ignites something within me—something like hope or perhaps the ember of rebellion. It's a dangerous thing, I remind myself. It could burn me alive.
And yet, as I look into Karul's eyes, I can't help but wonder if this man, who, so obviously to me, defies expectations and hides his own scars beneath a veneer of nobility, might just be the ally I need in this gilded cage.
Karul's fingers are cold against my skin as he releases my chin and steps back, surveying me with those intense eyes that seem to strip away the walls I've built around myself.
The room is cloaked in shadows, save for the flickering light of a single candle that casts an eerie glow on his platinum hair. Each strand is like a thread of moonlight—unnaturally beautiful.
"Jasmine," he begins, his deep voice smooth as the dark purple fabric flowing from his shoulders, "you will do. In fact, you’re just perfect for the role."
