Page 70 of A Curse So Vile
Just the opposite. She wished she could set them free as no living being belonged caged.
“What do you have a taste for?” an older woman asked.
Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten yet. While the Ossorians had tried to get her to partake in human flesh, they’d relented when she’d asked for more human dishes.
“Venison? Eggs?”
The old woman cleared her throat. “Do you prefer lad or lass?”
Apparently, they were no longer being so accommodating.
Brenna blinked back at the woman, disgusted. “Are you offering up your nieces and nephews? Or perhaps your own children? Your neighbors?”
“It is a blessing to nourish our betters.”
“Then nourish your children. There is no better.”
“Lad or lass?”
“Neither. Perhaps I should eat you.”
The woman flinched slightly. “If it is your will, I welcome you to feed.”
“How does one live as long as you have without becoming a meal yourself?” Brenna said sarcastically. “Is it because you’re so damn awful that it makes you taste bitter? Or are you just so good at sacrificing others to your foul gods that they keep you around?”
The woman’s face soured, but she continued her work with no more talk of food.
When her handmaidens were done with all the buttons and ties of her dress, Brenna was escorted in front of a mirror to take in her transformation.
She was a wicked sight to behold as the blood red color of the gown contrasted her tanned flesh in such a way that was startling.
Never before had she worn a dress, and she found that while the flowing skirt didn’t restrict her movements, she’d never felt so confined. Like there was an expectation that came with such a garment.
The day seemed to drag on as the women preened her. She wanted ever so badly to smack some sense into them, but they had the roles they played in life, and it would have hardly done any good to take what little comfort they had in their service away from them.
After all, what would they do? They had no hope of escaping and perhaps living a life of cruel servitude was better than the alternative: knowing they were meat bags to creatures that were just as much animal as they were man would do them no favors.
“Is she ready?”
Brenna looked over to see an older woman, Ossorian in features, staring at her.
She had a bitter look, which Brenna found amusing. Jealousy was a trait aligned more with humans than their own ancient blood, and it solidified her belief that the Ossorians were slowly evolving, becoming more like the Denithians than they’d like to admit.
Which could be why they were so eager to cling to the belief that Brenna was somehow different. That she’s somehow more.
One of the humans came up behind her and placed a delicate, black lacquer crown on her head.
“She is, as requested, Lady Ernestine.”
Brenna chuckled to herself at the human title.
“You think that funny?” Ernestine said in a deadpan tone.
Brenna shrugged. “That the Ossorians gave up their savagery for creature comforts and titles? Absolutely.”
“Your Denithians think they’re so superior, yet they’ve gone too far. First, they betrayed their own blood by seeking out the blood witch, then they were careless with their mating. In just a decade, they may lose the ability to shift altogether.”
“The Ossorians aren’t far behind us.”