Esme's POV
"The Seven Princes of the Deity would take you today."
Silence.
"Hilarious, Uncle." I said dryly, stroking Denim's fur to calm down. "Did you think it was a wonderful joke?"
Why did he bring up my bed time stories when the mood was serious? It's been six years since I heard them because he had repeated the same plot for years.
"I'm serious."
"So am I." I asked directly. "Are you sending me away?"
"Essentially, yes."
I gasped.
"But I don't want to. I mean, it was prearranged…or simply speaking, it's an inheritance. It couldn't be avoided." He straightened his back while mine slumped.
Yet my fists molded to strike him if he had really sold me out to a merchant.
"Isabella in that story… is you. The Seven Princes of the King Deity—Sins from the Goddess' children that have form. You are a Mast... Mistress, in your case, and should subdue them. It's essentially having butlers as a coming-of-age gift but they're… more powerful than Alphas. You come of age today."
What did he mean by all these? My fist loosened. It sounded worse than I imagined.
Or did it?
In his story, Isabella was an orphan girl whose father made a pact with a Deity to help babysit his sons. The Seven Deadly Sins in form, brutes, and powerful. They had powers rivalling the Five Bloodlines gifted to the kingdoms of the Goddess. Those Bloodlines were worth at least three Alphas each.
And I was Isabella? A Mistress to Seven Princes whose power rivalled these Bloodlines? It sounded almost, the thought was, exciting.
"Mark." I called his first name. "Why am I knowing all of these now?"
"Because it's easier for me to raise you while you were oblivious. I'd also have no guilt when you'd finally leave when you come of age. Would you have preferred to have taken your role while you were younger?"
He looked at Denim. "If there's a way you can also convince her that I do not lie, please do. I dreaded this day coming all my life."
His voice broke. I couldn't look at him. Would I have preferred to take my role while I was younger? As if there was anything of great significance that had happened to me.
I turned to Denim. "Isn't she just a cat?"
"Maybe, but she's a gift to you by them on your thirteenth. She might be more."
I had noticed. She's smarter than the average cat and understood me like a person would. Even that one time I watched her injury heal instantly.
I looked him in the eyes. "So am I… also… an orphan like Isabella? Father dies in sickness and mother dies later in war?"
Silence answered me. Denim left her basket and wrapped herself around me, comforting me even if I looked blank on the outside.
I couldn't remember my mother, or father, and I had the faintest memory of a boy I played with, possibly my younger brother.
I didn't imagine my parents would hate me so much that they'd all stay away for years. Maybe it was my pride, but I didn't think I was so detestable.
"Did I have a sibling? A brother?"
His face scrunched up, and he frowned slightly. "You've already lost everything worth having, Esme. I'm very sorry."
I inhaled and exhaled. The painter walked down to us with his buckets. We both wiped the tears streaking down.
"I'd help him set up." I left my Uncle to himself. He needed time too.
How would a wolfless girl like me subdue Seven Lords stronger than three Alphas? But faint excitement started to grow. Could it be such a bad offer? I didn't have anyone coming for my neck, but I did have folks I would like to show off to.
Depending on how bold my Uncle let me be, I could stir trouble purposely. Who'd dare speak up when I had the equivalent of twenty-one Alphas by my side?
I hissed, waking up again in the middle of the night, and my candle stick was inside its bowl. "This is dogshit."
Returning home after that day, and thinking about everything I heard, it made my body weak and I concluded the offer couldn't bring happiness for me.
Firstly, the realization that I had been an orphan all along. It was harder to deal with and I couldn't replace the sadness with my incoming powerful servants.
My head turned to my side, looking at Denim's empty plate. "She didn't come back last night, did she?"
Secondly—Levine might shed blood if he heard this—I lost my best friend who had been lying to my face for almost six years. She was the only one who listened completely, without saying anything back, even if for obvious reasons.
She always listened and showed support but I couldn't help but think for those years, she had been spying on me for her masters.
I turned to face the wall, coiling myself up. I had to get back up soon. Perhaps when the painting finally arrived, I'd feel better, as the samples the painter had shown promised great work.
Levine hadn't stopped by either so it could happen soon enough.
Anything good should happen before those possibly horned and dreadful looking brothers from hell find their way to my doorstep.
"They better be as obedient as Uncle said." I murmured, trying to recollect that bed time story.
I slipped back to sleep again, ignoring the rumblings of my stomach. But sleep didn't last long as I was in the kitchen the next hour, cursing and cooking.
"That stupid Uncle couldn't even keep food for me. He has completely abandoned me, hasn't he?" As if those brothers would be able to feed me.
~~~
The painting turned out amazing. It arrived a week after my birthday and I left it stationed at the front door so every customer would see it.
Especially those ones that so worriedly asked my Uncle if he could enroll me in a beauty school so I would get a suitor. The first few that stopped by were stunned that they stared at it for ten seconds. I had counted.
Let me wait till Levine sees me looking like a proper lady! He'd take back the rude comments he ever made of me and stop calling me a battle angel. 'Angel' was fine.
"Esme! Is that you!" Our neighbour, the butcher's daughter, rushed to the counter after staring at the painting.
"Do I have a twin?" I flipped my hair. We both laughed at my statement. My mood had become better after a few days, though I evidently lost weight that my Uncle wouldn't stop talking about.
She handed me her written order. "So you do have it in you. The charm of a lady." She said, bringing back my attention to her. "My mother had been so worried but now, most young men stopping by would see another side of you."
I frowned at her words. Did she have to point it out so brazenly? It was as if I had motives for keeping it by the door. I did, but not for showing young men anything.
"Oh, and there's the gentleman by the door." she snickered, taking the bag she ordered, and leaning towards me. "He can't take his eyes off the painting."
She was ruining my excitement. Slowly, that painting felt like a different person, just like that dress had been on me. "I tried something new, that's all." I handed her cookies and took her coins. I hoped she'd stop talking and leave.
She did, walking to the door but stopped, gestured, and whispered. "He's still there." She rushed out, blushing for my sake.
I rolled my eyes. "May his eyes melt out of his sockets."
The place became quiet after two more customers, but they always turned to the left, staring at someone. Could that 'gentleman' still be out there?
He made me curious, so I decided to check. I shouldn't care much but it'd be creepy if I didn't know them.
Just as I walked out of the counter, the door opened so I rushed back to my station, adjusting my apron. "Hel—" I looked forward and froze.
My head angled higher to look at him, and my jaw dropped. "Hello?" my voice was quiet.
I wasn't obsessed with height differences, but… there were barely tall men in this village and being a little above the average height of a lady, foolish boys teased me.
My eyes stayed glued to the pillar of a man in front of me, mostly at his broad shoulders. His clothes were expensive silver silk wrapping the narrow waist that joined his broad chest to his long legs.
I swallowed nothing, and questioned myself for that reaction. Was I intimidated by him? Or did my throat feel dry after travelling up and down his frame with my eyes?