Chapter 19: Ready for What? (Review Bonus)

Chapter 19. Ready for What? (Review Bonus)

After checking, or, more accurately, peeking in, on Seris and Lily, I went straight to my chamber.

Both were fine.

The eastern-wing attack had been handled. The injured servants were receiving treatment, the remaining monsters had either been killed or driven away, and the mansion had returned to that peculiar kind of controlled chaos that followed an attack on a noble residence. Guards moved through the corridors. Servants carried damaged furniture. Someone was already complaining about a broken window.

Normal disaster management.

Which meant I could address my own immediate emergency.

I smelled like a slaughterhouse.

I was a civilized magus.

Not some mountain warlock who lived inside a cave, collected human skulls, and considered rain an acceptable substitute for bathing.

I appreciated cleanliness.

Very much.

So after making absolutely certain nobody else was currently dying, being kidnapped, poisoned, cursed, eaten, sacrificed, or otherwise creating additional work for me, I returned to my chamber and headed directly toward the bathing room.

The behemoth core came with me.

I wasn’t leaving an A-rank monster core sitting somewhere servants could accidentally move it.

I placed the amber-brown orb carefully inside one of the drawers beside my desk. Not ideal. A mana-preservation container would have been better.

Actually...

Rey should have had storage equipment.

The memories were still somewhat disorganized, but I vaguely remembered spatial containers among his possessions. Ring, perhaps. Or an enchanted inventory artifact. Rey collected ingredients constantly during his travels, and there was absolutely no chance a Royal Magus had spent years carrying necessities around in ordinary sacks.

I would find it later.

For now, drawer.

I closed it.

Then bathed.

Old magic tech water manipulation made the process embarrassingly convenient.

No faucet, plumbing system comparable to my era or even a temperature regulator.

Didn’t matter.

Water gathered from the enchanted reservoir, spiraled through the air, heated under controlled mana, and poured over me.

Blood disappeared first.

Red streams ran from my hair, shoulders, chest, arms, and legs before swirling toward the drainage channel.

There had been considerably more blood on me than I’d realized.

Some of it had dried behind my ear.

Wonderful.

A piece of behemoth tissue had apparently survived near my collar.

Even better.

I stared at it for several seconds before washing it away.

Once the water finally ran clear, I remained there for another minute simply enjoying the heat.

My body felt different tonight.

Better.

Not healthy exactly.

The curse had spent too long chewing through him for one successful conversion to magically undo everything. But the constant pressure beneath my skin had lessened. My muscles didn’t feel like they were fighting invisible restraints anymore. Even breathing felt easier.

Eventually I shut the water off.

Well.

Same principle.

Different century.

I dried myself and chose simple clothes.

Dark trousers, loose black shirt, comfortable enough to sleep in and respectable enough that if another assassin burst through my window I wouldn’t have to murder them half-dressed.

Practicality.

I looked into the mirror.

Much better.

The man staring back at me still looked dangerous.

That apparently came naturally with Rey’s face.

Dark hair falling loosely around his forehead. Sharp jaw. Pale skin. Eyes that seemed permanently designed to make innocent people reconsider whether they’d committed crimes recently.

But the shadows beneath those eyes had thinned.

The exhaustion wasn’t carved quite as deeply into his features.

For the first time since waking in this body, Rey Valen looked less like a corpse stubbornly refusing to lie down.

I left the bathing room.

Ariel still wasn’t there.

My eyes moved toward the door.

Nothing.

I checked the time mentally.

She would come.

I’d specifically asked her.

More importantly, I needed her to.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

Immediately my thoughts became less organized.

What exactly was I supposed to say?

The wives weren’t afraid of me the way the servants were.

Not exactly.

Lily had fed me.

Seris had tried to carry me.

Ariel had held me while I nearly tore myself apart from the curse.

They loved me.

That much was painfully obvious.

But there were moments.

Tiny ones.

A hesitation before touching me.

A glance toward my hands.

A slight tightening when my voice changed.

Fear.

Thin.

Almost buried beneath affection.

But there.

And I hated that I noticed it.

Maybe because I knew what fear looked like when someone tried desperately to hide it.

My hand pressed against the mattress.

Something shifted beneath my palm.

I frowned.

Hard.

Narrow.

I reached behind myself and pulled it free.

A short whip.

I stared.

...

What?

I turned it over.

Leather. Well maintained. Used.

My brows drew together. "Huh?"

Why was this here?

I looked behind me.

Then stopped.

Chains.

Short lengths of reinforced chain had been arranged near the headboard.

My eyes moved toward the side table.

Blades.

Several.

Small.

Sharp.

Clean.

I could have sworn those hadn’t been there earlier.

"What the—"

The door opened.

I turned.

Ariel entered.

She had changed.

A loose robe covered her body, her blue hair falling over her shoulders. Her face was calm.

That was the first thing I noticed.

The second was her eyes.

Fear. Then something worse.

Acceptance.

The quiet fear of someone who had already decided what was about to happen and had convinced herself she wouldn’t run from it.

The door closed behind her.

She approached.

Then knelt.

My body went completely still.

Her hands reached for the robe.

It slipped from her shoulders and pooled around her knees.

Beneath it she wore only a thin, simple dress.

It exposed enough of her arms, shoulders, and legs.

Ariel lowered her head. "I’m ready, Rey."

I stared at her.

She remained on her knees, robe pooled around her, thin dress exposing enough skin that I could already understand exactly why she’d chosen it.

Her fingers curled against her thighs.

"Ready for what?" I asked spontaneously. Okay, Rey never consummated any of his marriages, so I knew it wasn’t about that.

A tiny silence.

Ariel looked up. "For you."

Her lips pressed together.

Then her gaze flicked toward the whip in my hand.

Ah.

That answered it.

I stared at her for several seconds.

Then closed my eyes.

Right.

How could I have forgotten this?

The original Rey had developed a problem controlling his emotions as the curse worsened.

Anger became corruption.

Fear became corruption.

Frustration.

Grief.

Hatred.

Every strong emotion fed the thing inside him until suppressing everything seemed safer.

But suppression only worked temporarily.

Eventually the pressure accumulated.

And Rey needed somewhere to release it.

At first, he’d found another method.

A name surfaced from memory.

The Grim Reaper.

The mysterious killer whispered about across Valeria.

A hooded figure who appeared after midnight and left powerful men dead inside supposedly secure estates.

The Four Heroes had spent months wondering who he was.

Darius suspected a forbidden magic follower.

Raven had apparently come dangerously close to identifying him twice.

Elia believed the killer was connected somehow to the growing corruption surrounding Rey.

Technically... She wasn’t wrong.

Just hilariously close to the truth without actually reaching it.

History eventually described the Reaper as an indiscriminate murderer whose victims included innocent nobles.

Rey’s memories said otherwise.

Those people were corrupt nobles. Slave traders. Murderers protected by wealth. Officials who bought judges. Criminal magi whose connections made prosecution conveniently impossible. People the law couldn’t or wouldn’t touch.

The Reaper hunted them.

It wasn’t justice.

Not really.

Rey hadn’t been wearing a judge’s robe.

He was a cursed magician hunting people in the dark because killing gave the pressure inside his head somewhere to go.

It worked.

For a while.

Until his wives discovered it.

They were terrified of what the killing was doing to him.

Every time Rey needed emotional release, violence became easier.

Every corpse taught his cursed mind the same lesson.

Angry? Kill.

Hurting? Kill.

Losing control? Find someone deserving and kill.

Efficient.

Also an excellent method for turning a damaged man into exactly the monster history later claimed he had become.

So his wives begged him to stop.

And Rey did.

Mostly.

But the curse didn’t disappear because five women won an argument.

The pressure remained.

It accumulated beneath Rey’s skin like steam inside a sealed vessel, feeding on every ugly emotion he tried to bury. Anger. Fear. Humiliation. Frustration. Bloodlust. The more he suppressed it, the worse the eventual eruption became.

And Ariel volunteered to become the outlet.

To be beaten.

Whipped.

Hurt badly enough that Rey’s violent impulses had somewhere to go without another corpse appearing in the capital.

The thought made my stomach twist.

She had been the first to offer herself for one painfully simple reason.

Ariel could heal.

Mermaid blood carried powerful regenerative properties, and her water magic made that gift even stronger. Bruises faded. Cuts closed. Torn skin knitted itself together. Given enough rest and mana, she could erase most physical evidence of what happened inside this chamber.

Tomorrow, she could smile.

Walk normally.

Sit beside the others at breakfast.

Almost as if nothing had happened.

That same reasoning had eventually made her the first choice for something even worse.

The sacrifice.

When everyone became desperate enough, Ariel always stepped forward first because she believed she could endure more than the others.

And the signal that Rey’s body demanded this was always the same, ordering Ariel to his chamber. Words that sounded intimate to anyone overhearing them, but to Ariel, they meant only one thing, hell was waiting behind that door.

My fingers tightened around the whip.

Memories surfaced whether I wanted them or not.

Ariel kneeling exactly where she was now.

Rey standing over her.

The leather moving.

Her body jerking.

His breathing growing heavier as corruption twisted his emotions into something crueler than the man underneath.

And the worst part?

Rey had hated it.

Somewhere beneath the curse, his heart had been screaming at him to stop.

He knew every mark he left.

He remembered every sound.

Every time Ariel flinched afterward, something inside him broke a little further.

Yet the curse rewarded the violence.

The pressure eased.

The bloodlust quieted.

His thoughts became clearer.

So he returned to it.

Again.

And again.

A vicious little solution that worked just well enough to become a habit.

I stared at Ariel.

She hadn’t moved.

Head lowered.

Hands resting obediently against her thighs.

Waiting.

Accepting.

It would have been easy to tell her no.

To tell her I didn’t need this anymore.

That the curse was under control.

That I had found another method.

But would she believe me?

After everything Rey had tried?

After every cure that failed?

After every morning he’d claimed he was better only to collapse again?

Probably not.

Words were cheap.

Especially from Rey Valen.

So I decided not to start with words.

I rose.

Ariel’s shoulders tightened immediately.

The movement was tiny.

Automatic.

My jaw clenched.

I wrapped my hand around the whip.

Leather pressed against my palm.

Then I walked toward her.

Slowly.

One step.

Then another.

Ariel remained kneeling as my shadow fell over her.

She didn’t look up.

But I saw her fingers curl against the fabric of her dress.