Crowned 7 - Facing the Music.

 

Elvira let go of the utensils and immediately ran up to Clary’s side for washing her hands.

Clary, numbed to a stand-still, let herself be pushed to the side while Elvira washed her hands.

“We must go,” Yuna declared, only for Clary to shake her head vehemently.

“I—I don’t think I can go…” Clary whispered, her gaze stuck on the vegetables in front.

“It’s all right, you don’t have to force yourself…” Elvira whispered while patting Clary’s back, “You don’t have to go.”

“B-but, Lira…” Clary sniffled, brows joined together and lips in an upside-down frown.

“Not everyone has to be brave, not at the cost of yourself,” Elvira smiled.

Yuna nodded as she hastened towards the door, “It’s alright Clary, we understand. Let’s go, Elvi.”

Elvira left one last reassuring pat on Clary’s back before jogging out of the kitchen. Clary stared at their backs before nodding to herself, “I’ll manage their chores here,” she said, flaring her nostrils. She wanted to go…she wanted to help Lira, but her body stiffened at the thought of being near to any of Helif’s parties.

The mere word shot her seven years back, when she was the newest collection in Helif’s basement. She remembered his leering gaze running over her body as he brandished her in front of a table full of grinning men and women.

A band of musicians played slow music behind her as she was forced to step on the table, clad in a short frilly dress and serve the nobility all night long. Glass after glass of burning liquids were poured down her throat until she was delirious enough to forget all sense. She did not know what happened to her as the lazy piano keys turned into chirping of the morning birds.

All she remembered was waking up on the table, unclothed and hurting all over.

Clary clenched her teeth as she went back to washing the vegetables, praying in her heart that Lira would not have to face the same fate as Yuna and her.

In the hallway, Elvira said, “I will go outside, you should alert the head butler.”

“The head butler? Even the laundry maid could care less when it comes to people like us,” Yuna scoffed.

Elvira could only grit her teeth in agreement.

“I’ll distract them, you search for Lira and run, yeah?” Elvira proposed.

Yuna sighed as she nodded. Ever since Elvira had arrived, five years ago, she had been taking the falls for Clary and Yuna. Every time the Count would want to corner Clary or Yuna, Elvira would jump in, get hit or be horribly degraded as distraction.

A while ago, Yuna had confronted Elvira about it, only to receive the reply, “I don’t mind, I have nothing to lose anyway.”

When she saw Elvira running out of the glass doors, leading to the Garden and Gazebo, without looking left or right to care for what’s coming – Yuna could only clench her teeth.

Elvira wasn’t brave, she realised, Elvira just did not consider herself as a person worth consideration.

Her hasty steps over the grass were a stark comparison to Yuna’s careful ones. She ran boldly, shoulders squared and head held high while Yuna crouched behind tall grass, shoulders curled and keen eyes stalking the shadows of the night.

 Elvira scowled as spotted Lira standing beside a grinning Count Amaria. He had his hand over the small of Lira’s back, fingers gently caressing her squirming waist. He was about to introduce Lira to the party in the Gazebo, when Elvira jumped in.

“Milord! You haven’t introduced me to your friends!” she grinned and lodged herself under Count Amaria’s arm, elbowing Lira out of her way, “Why are you wasting your time on new scum when you can have all of experienced me?” she giggled, fanning her face.

“Ugh, this girl!” Count Amaria scowled as he pushed her out of his arms, “Don’t you know your place?!”

“I do, master,” Elvira grinned and dropped to his feet. “Won’t you keep me for your friends, master?” she faked a mewl, fluttering her eyes at the grinning crowd. Thankfully, she had chosen to wear a high-collared, full sleeved servant outfit with her uniform stockings and shoes.

“No—get away, you’re hideous,” Count Amaria bellowed and tip-toed to look for Lira. “Where’s the pretty one gone?”

Unbeknownst to him, Yuna had carried Lira inside.

“Why look for the pretty one? She’ll cry and whine, be reluctant all night long,” Elvira jumped up to stand in the Count’s face. “I’m better,” she winked and walked up to a guest, “I can be very entertaining,” she whispered as she ran a hand over the guest’s chest, nearing his abdomen, she said, “You can test me.”

“I like this one!”

“Yeah, she seems fun!”

“Forcing isn’t enjoyable. She’s so willing, she’d do it all sober.”

Elvira winked at the guest who praised her.

Count Amaria sighed as he took a seat at the head of the table, “You folks do not understand,” he pressed his lips in a line, “She’s hideous all over.”

Elvira merely blinked flirtatiously.

“It’s okay, I like her face. She could do it all clothed, wouldn’t you, slave?”

Elvira fluttered her eyes and acted coy, “Why not? My bite grooves will only stimulate you.”

“Bite marks!” a guest exclaimed, leaning onto the table, he urged, “Show us.”

“They’re…” Elvira giggled, “They’re quite harsh.”

The crowd roared into laughter while Count Amaria rolled his eyes.

“Kinky lass.”

“How harsh?”

“Show me all of your marks, slave.”

Elvira obliged as she slowly rolled her sleeves. The slow piano and saxophone took over the silence as a dozen of depraved gazes waited for her to expose herself.

As soon as both her sleeves were above her elbows, Elvira raised her hands for all to see.

Instantly, the men began coughing, whispering and evading gazes.

“They’re not bad, just Kindler bites. You know them? Creatures of the dark! Their bite spreads their cause but somehow, I survived!” Elvira grinned.

The piano and the saxophone escalated into a giddy pace as people began shuffling backwards.

“Don’t back away, my saliva only hurts on a full moon,” she bluffed.

Instantly, everyone’s heads flipped to look at the two moons in the sky. One of them was a full moon and the other a crescent.

“G-um, just serve us drinks. Be—”

“Better yet, leave us be. We had something important to discuss tonight, did we not, Count Amaria?”

“Indeed, we did,” the Count sighed as he glared at the back of Elvira’s head, “The Northern Plains have been subjuga—why are you still here? Leave.”

“Yes, Milord!” Elvira exclaimed, a little too happily. She was about to run away when a cold voice halted her.

“Hold up, I can still entertain you all with her. Since she interrupted us, she has to pay a price.”

Elvira gulped, clenching her jaw, she turned back to face Count Amaria. His dark eyes caught a glint of the lanterns and gleamed deviously.

For as long as his soiree lasted, Elvira’s screams were the supporting vocals to their background music. Right outside the gazebo, Count Amaria had Elvira kneeled over the prickly grass while one of the guards lashed her back.

Guests drank, shouted, sang and were eventually taken away by their servants. Count Amaria too was taken inside, before his drunk mumbling could ruin public relations or reveal national secrets. All the while, Elvira laid on the damp grass, pricking and soothing her gashed back. The lasting notes of the music were heavy companionship along with the stars and the two moons.

The universe was so silent…or maybe it was screaming, like her, and nobody was paying attention.

The next day, the sun would rise and everything would stay the same. Her smiling face, the sparkling pond, the jumping fishes, the breezy garden, they would all stay the same.

“Some days…I’m grateful my scars exist.” Elvira informed the sky. A smile graced her face which eventually turned into a grin as she spotted her birth star twinkling. “Ah…Mirai, you cheeky traitor.”

“Elvi? Is that you?”

Elvira sat up and winced at the suddenness of her own actions. She groaned before replying, “Ye-ah, I’m here, Clary, it’s all clear.”

The girl jumped out of distant bushes, her blonde head glowing under moonlight. She ran up to Elvira’s side with a box of medicines in her hand.

“Was I that loud?” Elvira grimaced.

Clary rolled her eyes as she kneeled beside her friend, “I’m sure the entire empire heard it.”

Elvira seethed as Clary unzipped her dress and pulled the fabric off her body.

“Do you have any sense of self-preservation?” Clary scoffed sternly.

“My apologies, your highness, I shall do better next time,” Elvira joked.

“Wrong answer!” Clary exclaimed at the bloody sight of Elvira’s back, “There should be no next time!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

Clary applied ointment over Elvira’s scarred back, cringing and wincing every time Elvira did.

“Does it hurt a lot?” she asked, apologetically.

“Surprisingly, not so much,” Elvira grinned.

 

Because, a continent away, a blue-eyed boy writhed in pain.

“Is it hurting still?” the boy beside him asked.

The boy in bed shot up and scowled, his face shadowed by the darkness of the room, “It freaking feels like I was lashed!”