You Are My String Of Fate

1.6 || Lips As Red As Blood... .

Frost really did not have the luxury to worry about Snow White and the latter's lack of perceptiveness in handling the Second Prince. She just trusted that whatever would happen, Snow White would not be in trouble and still reign supreme in the end. Frost White The Villain should just care about herself. the top part of the hourglass, marking the time left towards her eighteenth birthday, was running out of sand.

In fact, today was Snow White and Frost White's seventeenth birthday. As soon as she woke up, the maids bathed her in lavender-infused water. A small amount of milk that had also been added into the water ended up making her skin feel smooth and glowing.

Afterwards, she was dressed to the nines by the maids. Her silver hair was simply braided to the side, and she was attired in a flowing light purple gown. The fabric was soft and light, accentuating her curves even without using any cinching corset.

She was initially confused as to why she had been prepped in such a way. Then the maids herded her towards a room in the manor. Frost frowned. It was the late Duchess' room. She suddenly had a trepidation. Yet, the maids flanked her behind, and was practically shoving her into the room. Then the door was tightly shut.

In the dimly lit room, with little sunlight coming from the outside due to the drawn curtains, Frost made out the silhouette of Duke White, whose eyes gleamed as soon as he saw her.

Frost gulped when she saw the four-posted, grand-looking bed with rose petals on top of it.

The Duke started to walk towards her with a cajoling voice, yet Frost could not miss its hoarseness and his ragged breathing. "My dear lovely Frost. Today, you will be mine!"

Had the Duke gone senile and miscounted her years? She backed herself against the door and tried to open the latch, to no avail. There must be some people barricading it from behind. Her expression turned rigid. "Duke. There's still one more year until my eighteenth birthday. You promised!"

The Duke paused, but soon shrugged, "One year earlier, one year later, does not make a difference. You cannot blame me because you are too beautiful! How can I resist when you possess such beauty?"

Frost inwardly cursed the lecherous Duke and his ancestors. That was such a classic rapist mentality!

She was bracing herself and concentrating her strength in preparing an egg-cracking kick to be bestowed to the Duke. Although she was a bit worried about the implication of her action towards the future, but she definitely did not want to be eaten by the geezer. Worse come to worse, she'd just be an independent villain. That was, if she could escape after this.

The room suddenly dimmed more and Frost heard a crow's cry somewhere. However, before she could figure out the source of the sound, Duke White's eyes rolled to the back of his head, before falling towards her. Yet, she felt a sudden pull to avoid the crushing weight of the fainting Duke, then a sudden warmth as she was tightly held by a pair of arms.

"Arms?" Frost saw the black sleeve covering the hands holding her and black clothing covering the chest she had been embraced against.

Frost immediately swung her kick towards the new assailant, but the person immediately let go of her body before she could connect her kick.

"Feisty!" The voice was light and teasing. It sounded familiar and oddly comforting, reminding Frost of warmly baked brownies... .

She finally looked at the person who must have delivered that fainting blow to Duke White.

The person looked young, probably around the same age as Frost White. Yet, when Frost White's hair was light, the person's hair was as dark as night. His eyes were the same color as well, but it gave off a serene feeling. His youthful face did not match his deep, smooth voice. He was wearing a black suit with a pristine white shirt underneath. At a glance, it looked similar to the attire normally worn by the butlers at Duke White's manor. He was looking at her with his brows slightly raised, as if he was also evaluating how she looked. The most unusual aspect of this stranger was perhaps the lone crow perching on his shoulder.