Chapter 8

Master Vincent turned to the president when the defender vanished in the darkness. "Why do you allow her to talk to you like that, mother? If the people of Sector I knew of this, they'll lose all respect for you." The president merely put a weary hand under her chin and stared heavenward. "Just as you said, I'm old. I'm not living for anyone's respect anymore." Master Vincent's cheek colored. "And it is your fault that Talin is acting that way," she continued. "You shouldn't have done what you did. Placed in her position, I would have murdered you." He blanched. "Can't we find another defender?" "Her skills are unmatched. Aside from being trained for years, she has a natural ability for fighting. We need her to win, and I need you to leave her be." The president's eyes lingered on Brielle. "It's been a long night, for us, and this girl. Go home and rest, Vincent. You have a journey to make tomorrow." "Alright," Master Vincent said without much enthusiasm. He patted Brielle's head. "You heard that, little ghost? We're having a field trip." Brielle was neither little, nor deaf. She heard it alright, and thought after thought ran through her mind. What did Master Vincent do to make Talin act this way? What was going to happen to her now? What could she do to make her future sodales hate her less, and perhaps not dispose of her along the way? Master Vincent had her woken by a guard early the next morning. Brielle didn't have problems getting up, since she wasn't asleep to begin with. She'd passed the time staring at the blackness, conjuring a way out of her predicament, in which she saw no escape. Before the guard slipped out of the room, she was asked not to bring anything but the clothes on her back and the red ribbon, which she tied on her wrist for safekeeping. A team of security were already lined on the foyer when she emerged from the basement. The funny thing was, Master Vincent told every guest, every constituent, that she had a grand bedroom on the second floor near his, when in actuality, the basement had been her designated room for eight years. So much for keeping face. "Had a pleasant dream?" Master Vincent said after catching sight of her. On his left hand was a brown notebook. It was a lot like the leather-bound notes that she dropped on her father's attic yesterday, except this one was less tattered and smaller, about the size of a hand. The thought of her father's notes upset her greatly. If she could only slip away, perhaps for a measly half an hour, maybe she could get them and take it wherever they were going. "Are we heading far, master?" she asked. He flipped to another page and frowned. "You can say that. Why?" She fidgeted. If she told him the real reason, he'd never agree to it. "I'd like some alone time." A stupid reason, but a passable excuse. Master Vincent turned to the nearest guard. "Wait for us by the car," he instructed. Brielle's heart leaped to her mouth when the security trailed to the front door, then out. She never should have assumed that he'd agree, or much less listen to her request. Regret jabbed her like a hateful friend who was out for revenge. Even more when the notebook he was holding slammed shut and he stared at her expressionless. "Alone time?" he said. "You're a slave. What do you possibly need an alone time for?" His polished black shoes thudded on the floor until he was standing in front of her. "Who am I to you?" Brielle licked her chapped lips. It was never too early for punishments. "My master," said her raspy voice. He grasped her chin and tilted her face to his. "Then tell me, Brielle." She smelled the coffee in his breath. "Are you keeping a lover behind your master, your father's back? You want to say goodbye to him, don't you?" She couldn't help it. A giggle escaped her mouth. "Why are you laughing?" he said. She couldn't keep a straight face. It was preposterous. Did he think she had time for that when he whined like a child whenever she wasn't around for him to torment? Did he think someone would see beauty in a monster, a ghost like her? She was burdened with his presence, his nitpicking, and him constantly treating her either like a child or a pet. How could she have enough space to consider romance? "I'm sorry. . . I'm. . ." She snorted. "I don't like men." His brows knitted quizzically. "I mean, I don't like people in general, master." It was his fault that she became like this. In a way, she pitied Talin even while the woman despised her. Master Vincent must have crossed her like the way he crossed Brielle every single day. "Oh," he said, leaning back. In a heartbeat, his confusion turned to satisfaction. "Keep that in mind. We don't want you getting pregnant anytime soon, especially when you're about to join The Offering." With the topic he offered, Brielle forgot her fears for punishment and was back to hating him. "Why did you volunteer me for it?" she said outright. "Aren't you happy enough to keep me as a slave?" It was evident that he'd anticipated for her to ask that soon enough, because he didn't look fazed by the question. Instead, he simply slipped the notebook in the pocket of his navy-blue coat. "I thought I was doing you a favor," he said. "A favor?" She couldn't believe what she'd heard. "The competition will hunt and kill me. I can only count on Talin to defend my life, and even she wants me gone. What kind of favor do you think you're doing?" "Mind your tongue," he warned. Brielle scowled. She'd been torn her whole life between wanting to get to his good side, or to stab him repeatedly in his sleep. She'd been torn whether The Offering meant liberation or another form of slavery for someone like her. She'd been torn between pleading to Talin or being upset that her partner didn't want her. She'd mind her tongue long enough. "Whether or not I succeed in The Offering, the moment I step out of that door, you will no longer be my master," she said. "I'm not bound by duty to obey your every order, only by the laws set in place by the country. I can either die or be free from you. Are you still letting me go through with this?" Brielle could tell that aside from her earlier question, the master had thought of this too. His eyes flickered of a decision that was made long ago. He smirked. "You know how much I love playing games. This is just one of them." She couldn't comprehend the kind of sadistic thoughts he had in mind, but she was exhausted from them. It was tiring to change from being his daughter to the lowest slave on earth for years, to pretending that she was a young innocent kid even when she was a fully-grown woman. She was going to leave this foolishness behind. "I'd rather die than be your slave again," she murmured, speaking the whole truth. Blurting those words, it was as if a weight was lifted off her shoulder. She'd been longing to say that since she was ten. He loomed over her and whispered. "Be careful what you wish for, little ghost. Sometimes our deepest desires come true, but never in the way we pictured it."