The Taming

True Evil

The next morning, Lord Demaron had knocked on their door, and her father had eagerly answered.

Neither Lord bothered to greet her as she came down the stairs at her father's summoning.

Lord Demaron barely spared her and the kitten clinging to her, a glance.

A footman took her luggage and heedlessly tossed it atop the carriage. He opened the door and she climbed into the dark interior with a heavy heart. Her naïve hope Lord Demaron truly cared for her was instantly doused. Like cold water in Winter.

She suffered the ride silently. Pain filling her soul. Apprehension growing through her.

She's so afraid.

Quandary shifted.

Bast was having a hard time, letting her suffer the pain that was swelling inside her as she thought of these memories. But he could sense there was something critical here.

Something I need to know.

She shot Lord Demaron furtive glances.

He stared out the window as though she mattered no more than the dog at his feet. Which stared intently at Elsabet's kitten. Licking it's lips and emitting low growls.

Elsabet cradled it under her chin, letting quiet tears trickle down her cheeks and into the feline's warm fur. The shadow of loneliness settling more deeply into her soul.

Elsabet now recognized it was that bud of isolation, that would eventually blossom into that irrepressible rage, she was never without.

Arriving at Demaron Estate in Mane Country, made her breathe easier.

Leaping from the carriage, she waited only long enough to rip her bags from the footman's grasp before rushing in, in an effort to escape Lord Demaron's distaste. Banging on the front door resulted in a servant directing her to her chamber ahead of the Lord.

Elsabet hid there the remainder of the eve, crying. Feeling like a foreign creature in foreign territory.

This mansion was cold. Frightening and desolate.

And her mother was gone.

It was the first night Elsabet woke to Lord Demaron kicking her chamber door until it swung open.

She pulled her blankets tight around her face, in terror.

She'd been familiar with neglect, but violence was alien to her.

Demaron's attack was quick and painful. When he grunted and finished, he rose and stumbled out. Shutting the door with a bang. It creaked back open, latch shattered.

Wearing her torn, sullied nightdress, she'd stared at the door's agonizingly slow movement, blinking slowly. She rolled over and curled into a ball no bigger than the hounds outside. Wrapping her arms around her shivering body as she sobbed in misery.

No...

Outrage washed through Bast. Making his breathing deepen.

He felt her pain with her. Trying to absorb as much of it as he could without disturbing her thoughts.

It was only the first of countless nights of such misery and pain.

Always, Demaron arrived with stale alcohol lingering on his breath. Brutality his only intention.

Over time, Elsabet became a trembling wraith. Numbly performing daily functions. Speaking to no one. Growing reserved and learning to evade the eyes of socialites who zeroed in on residual bruises marring her pale flesh.

They whispered behind their hands. Shaking their heads and eying her like a disobedient animal.

She studied every nuance of his moods, like an abused dog assesses its master after too many kicks. She learned to recognize when pain would come, and how to avoid more than necessary.

She didn't complain when he left at odd hours of the night. Despite that he offered no hint of where he went.

She pitied the women he visited.

Those were the only nights Elsabet slept peacefully. Only jolting awake when something stirred, or boards creaked.

The dogs and kittens she kept safely hidden in the stables, were her only companions. The only creatures that heard her soft confidences, saw her waterfalls of tears, and the deep purpling bruises on her arms and neck.

Bast seethed. Body vibrating with rage.

Now, she'd rolled onto the bed curling into a ball away from him, as she remembered the great depths of pain she'd endured back then.

Bast stood and turned to lay next to her. Long tail curling around her as he rested a furred chin aside her damp cheek, trying to reassure her she was safe now. Huffing softly to let her know he was there.

Never. Never again. He thought.