Uncovered

Chapter Three - Nyrie

Jolted awake by a queasy feeling in her belly, Nyrie threw off her sheets and ran to her wash basin. Without a moment to spare, she was shaken by her body's rejection to her stomach contents as it flew out from her mouth.

Gripping the edges of the bowl she tried to steady herself as another wave of nausea hit and she felt her legs wobble.

It was some time before she could catch her breath again and stand upright.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and rinsed out her mouth.

Unfortunately, where her mirror should be was just an empty space on the wall.

Just recently her twenty-first birthday had passed, and her Master chose to allow her the night off in a very rare show of gratitude. But it wasn't gratitude really, more like something to be used against her later. Ivan never did anything that didn't benefit him in some way or another.

But it wasn't before he had his way with her first. So, she chose to spend the night how any person with no family or friends, or anywhere to go, or any purpose in life would: with a bottle of wine. Or two.

Which once empty were thrown in blind range at the person she hated most in this world at that moment: herself.

A replacement had been ordered, Ivan ensuring her that it would only be of the very best quality, hand carved from the finest wood.

Nyrie knew he could only afford it because of her services. Lucky, she didn't particularly care what her reflection looked like. It didn't matter how she was presented to people on the outside: bruised, tired bloodshot eyes.

People still thought she was exotic and beautiful and as far as her clients were concerned so long as she satisfied them in ways their wives and other whores couldn't, that was all that mattered.

Her beauty was a curse. And she may as well have a golden temple between her legs.

Not a life she would wish on anyone. But when you were stolen from your family as a child, then stolen again and been taught the things she had, she supposed she'd done well to get this far. Her mental break downs were only when she had access to alcohol which she often stole from the cellar. It wasn't exactly stealing though when no one paid any attention to you. Even if they did, she was Ivan's pet.

No one laid a hand on her or gave her any order. She got away with anything. It satisfied her enough for now.

But deep down, she wished for some excitement, some type of exhilarating thrill, an adrenaline rush.

The others who occupied the Manor left her alone, besides whatever guard was on duty at the time. Even then, none of them spoke to her except Brax. What would they talk about anyway?

"So, how did your fucks go last night?"

"Great thanks. Did you stab anyone with that sword today?".

Yeah, that would be a great conversation.

If her suspicions were correct, she was almost certain Ivan had threatened every single one that their lives would no longer exist if any of them dared upset her in any way. Which was absolutely absurd if you asked Nyrie. Yet, Brax chose to ignore that consequence either from stupidity or complete carelessness she didn't know. But she did know she was grateful to have someone to talk to, who listened in return, who didn't look at her like some golden shrine. Someone who was genuine.

Which made it really lonely here when Ivan sent him away. Sometimes for weeks at a time. She didn't know what he did because she couldn't bring herself to ask when she saw the devastation in his features every time he returned.