The Alpha’s Slave

Chapter 22

BRIANNA’S POV

“Since you’re living under my roof, you’re to abide by my rules,” Catherine’s voice was cold, territorial and exact as she screeched the paper to me. “On the first page of the paper are the rules and your tasks and in the back is the plan of the castle to help you find your way around. You’re to obey my rules with your life and carry out your chores diligently. Anything asides that will attract punishments. Severe punishments,” she stressed, her gaze growing colder and sharper by the passing moment.

Her words bore through me and I drew in a subtle breath, wondering when punishments will end in my life. Breathe Brianna. Just breathe. I tried to calm myself as my gaze dropped to the sheet and carefully, I picked it up, eager to know what my tasks and her rules were.

Squinting at the millions of incomprehensible words scribbled on the paper, I swallowed a lump and tried to remain steady. Seeing it made me wonder if the other maids were also made to go through such lengthy papers before they started work here. I could only pronounce a few words. And I didn’t want Catherine to notice my uneasiness neither did I want to tell her I couldn’t entirely understand her murderous epistle.

“You’re taking forever to read through that thing, slave girl,” she stared impatiently at me and pushed her seat a little from the table to stand. “Those tasks won’t perform themselves. You have less than a minute to read through that paper and get to work. I’m starving already. And It’s almost past my breakfast time.”

Oh Goodness! I squeezed my eyes in agony as she walked past me. How do I perform the tasks I can’t even identify and pronounce in the paper? How do I make her breakfast if I don’t know her preferences…or allergies? From her elegant, graceful figure, I could tell she doesn’t eat anyhow. But the problem was that it’s been months since I last cooked. While at Hermes’s place, the castle maids handled all the food and cooking. I never for once set foot in the kitchen there.

“Wait, my Luna,” after much struggle within myself, I turned instantly and finally squeaked before she could take the stairs. “I can’t understand everything in this paper,” my tone was meek, low, trying to hide my fear and shame.

Turning to face me, she crossed her arms and pierced me with a confused stare.

“What do you mean you don’t understand everything in the paper?” She growled at me.

Suddenly, I was short of words. My eyes roamed helplessly around the interiors of the castle in search of answers. How do I say this to her? How do I tell her I can’t read? How will she react?

I mustered the courage to return my gaze to her. She was growing angrier and more impatient with each passing moment. I was wasting her time. And it wasn’t good for me at all.Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

“I…I can’t…I can’t read perfectly well,” my gaze dropped to the ground in defeat, my head reeling at the thought of what her reaction will be.

I couldn’t see her expression. But her scornful laughs and scoffs echoed across every corner of the castle. She was making jest of me and it only made me feel worse than I was already.

“Look at me!” She commanded and at once, I raised my head to meet her widened blue eyes which were glittering with self-satisfaction. “Not only are you a slave girl. But you’re also illiterate,” she broke into another round of laughter, higher in pitch than the previous.

That word made me crimson with humiliation and I dug my teeth so hard into my lower lip till I tasted blood. No one has ever called me that. Not even Sebastian when I told him yesterday. She was enjoying this. And it made me regret telling her. I should have just kept it to myself. But I had to if I wanted to understand my tasks and the rules in her murderous epistle. I had to if I wanted to avoid her punishments and survive in this place.

“Here, let me help you, illiterate slave,” a sarcastic blush crept into her cheeks as she walked over to me. Snatching the paper from my hand, she began to read. She was so drunk with happiness I struggled to hear and understand her.

In about a minute, she was done with the first page and my jaw nearly dropped on hearing her crazy, over-demanding tasks and rules. This was torture. Murder!

Five of her rules had pulled a tight string in me.

The first was that I wasn’t allowed to speak unless spoken to, ask questions, object or go against her wish no matter what. Even though I was sick or wasn’t in the right state of well-being to perform the chores.

The second was that I wasn’t allowed to eat, mingle with the other maids when they got back or take breaks in between until I was done with all my task for the day, with the deadline at sunset.

The third was that I was to wake up every day including weekends before dawn and start my chores as quickly as possible.

The fourth was that I was to continue with my chores and tasks even when the maids got back from their leave. They may offer a helping hand by showing me how to do it or the way to go about it since I was a novice. But I was to do the majority of the work.

Lastly and the one that made my misery so acute it was a physical pain. I was to never talk, go close to or engage in any form of activity with her husband – Sebastian.

But…but he promised to teach me to read perfectly. And he promised to talk to his crazy wife sneering before me about it. Or Perhaps, he didn’t or… he forgot? I couldn’t be so sure. He probably didn’t have the time to talk to her about it and hopefully, would do it when he returned from his business trip. He had left unannounced.

I understand she had been angry and territorial ever since she saw me in her gown that night Sebastian fixed that small dinner date for us and was angrier when she saw me very close to him the night we came back from that cocktail party. But all that wasn’t enough for her to torture me like this. The last thing I wanted was to snatch him away from her. To destroy their marriage. My conscience wouldn’t let me do that.

All that task and rules she just read out was too much for me to handle. Way too much for anyone to handle. But despite all that, I tried to impose an iron control on myself. I didn’t want her to see me succumbing to her defeat. I had to remain strong to survive. I had survived worse experiences. And this one was almost nothing compared to them.

Suddenly and finally, she stopped her scornful laughs and a chill black silence enveloped us. Maintaining eye contact, she shook her head disdainfully at me. I drew in a deep breath and forbade myself from trembling. From succumbing any longer. Her look had returned to the cold, hardened, sharp, impatient look it was before.

She stamped the paper back on the table and made her way to the stairs. But she paused before she could ascend and turned back to me.

“My breakfast should be ready in half an hour,” her voice was direct and emotionless it almost chilled me.

“Yes, my Luna,” I dipped to a bow and by the time I raised my head, she was already halfway up.

Anxiety suddenly gripped me tight as I made my way to the kitchen. I just prayed this meal will turn out fine. I didn’t want her to complain. And neither did I want to add to my punishment.