The Love of Lady Dimitrescu ((Completed))

Prologue

"Draga mea," Alcina breathes, looking over the barely surviving body of her love.

Catalena lays in an enveloping nest of satin pillows. Her body shivers from the cold despite the warmth of the room. Mercifully the pain pulled her into an unconscious state while Donna sewed her many lacerations closed. 

Her once angelic hair has been cut and torn out. Contusions of deep purple and red dot her head and face. Both hands and both feet are cocooned in bandages, beneath it both have deep, festering infections from the rusty shackles they used to chain her. Reaching up her legs to her hips are healing burns glistening with balm and ointment.

Silence consumes the room as Alcina sits in a chair beside the bed where she has remained unmoving except to pace for two days.

"Mother," Bela murmurs. Her sisters were too afraid to approach their mother and she herself is expecting to dodge out of the path of her rage.

"What is it?" Alcina's voice is tight and comes out in a growl.

"Uncle Moreau and aunt Donna are here. Uncle Heisenberg gave us leave of his horde. We're itching to raze the village," Bela says, rage prickling through her veins as well. It wasn't just Lady Dimitrescu's heart Catalena had won over after all, the girls have grown quite fond as well. Bela goes on, "We just all thought you should have the right to do as much damage as you want first."

An answer isn't immediate. Instead Alcina tenderly runs a single finger over a rare patch of uninjured skin. Catalena shivers more violently. Apparently no part of her is free from agonizing pain.

Alcina rises and the back of her dress strains until the seams rip and wings erupt, "Thank you daughter but you can send them all back. There won't be anything left of that village when I'm through."