What Makes A Monster - Chapter 16

A black shadow shot out from within the darkness beyond the trees.

Before it could touch Nara however, the shadow exploded and a howl pierced the night sky. The body of the shadow; a mustard yellow furry sabertooth creature with five black legs emerged from the forest and launched itself at Nara. The place of the sixth leg at its shoulder was bleeding profusely. That must have been the claw Nara had blown up. The long fangs tried to sink into Nara’s head, but Nara had already turned around with a livid expression. Before anyone could count to two, the whole body of the beast had been torn apart in the middle and soon the loud howls turned into whimpers before it died out completely.

“And who do you think you’re touching, you little fucker?” Nara roared at the carcass of the once lively beast. It was the first time Imyra witnessed Nara being violent. It was fascinating. “Moronic belderiks, never know what’s good for ’em.”

“And she has the gall to call me a monster.” Zuran muttered wryly.

“Perspective, Zuran, perspective.” Olivia shook her head.

“To have that much control even when she’s drunk.” Tona sighed with an envious gaze.

“Not exactly. She was going for a clean cut, but that looks torn apart.” Imyra felt the need to add.

“You try that when you’re drunk. You’d end up with bits everywhere. Just look at her. Her face, her dress, she’s spotless.”

Nara, looked somewhat sober as she walked back to the gazebo at the centre of the meadow. “Olivia, freeze it for me. Vera might want some of its ingredients.” She said before demanding the party to reconvene and shooting a wary Zuran smug looks. What a difference a little show of power could make, thought Imyra.

Nara even offered Zuran her hand though he politely declined. This happened after a few more drinks so a tipsy Tona was around to soften the blow by pulling his hand back and refusing to let ‘her’ Zuran be tarnished by Nara’s filthy touch. She went on about how Zuran, the object of admiration of all women worldwide, the single most beautiful person she’d ever met, should remain single forever, unclaimed by anyone. Her drunken complaints and deluded convictions went on for a very long time until Olivia smacked her head with a plate and rendered her unconscious.

Imyra felt it was quite out of character for Nara to react like that towards Zuran, but liquor tended to occasionally have an effect on personality and such and so she did not question it too much.

When the sun peeked through the treetops and made its appearance again to indicate the next day, only Olivia, Zuran and Imyra were still. Despite her reservations, Imyra had gotten carried away and drunk a few more glasses of wine. It turned out to be stronger than her estimations and soon she had lost all the dignity of a princess her mother had tried so hard to instil in her. Olivia, on the other hand, had been chugging the stuff down like it was water and all the accumulated alcohol was making even her unsteady.

Lying on her stomach, Imyra played with three cups of three differently coloured wines. She dipped her finger in each, licked it and giggled, “Say, you two, what naughty things do you get up to when you lock yourself up in those labs?”

Olivia too lay on her stomach opposite Imyra, though she was busy constructing a house out of the remaining fried sweet potato sticks. She threw a stick at her and reprimanded, “You only say that because he’s the only man in this entire nunnery. I’m not so desperate for a guy that I’ll go for him, though. That’s like an opening of Pandora’s box. That box should stay tightly shut.”

“Who’s Pandora?”

“My grandma.”

“Really?”

“Nope.”

“Huuuuh. Tona would be elated if Zuran would give her even a little of the time of his day.”

“Tona is Tona because she is stupid. I am not Tona.”

“Say, youngest uncle.” Imyra rolled on her back and turned to Zuran, who was leaning against a pillar, whittling down a piece of wood with a small knife in primitive fashion. He was the only one amongst them who was still completely sober. He had remained faithful to his pot of tea all night. “I didn’t know you had talents as a teacher. Is that your main job here?”

Zuran glanced up shortly but did not say anything.

“He’s not talented at all. All he knows how to do is pry my head open and cram dictionaries and grammar books in there. And while he’s at it, the pervert tries to peek at my memories and then I give him a big slap and then I have to worry if his jaw or teeth are broken and I think maybe it’d be easier if I just killed him already, then I wouldn’t have to worry about hurting him too much all the time. All it gives me is a damn big headache.” Olivia complained and lazily threw a cup at him. He dodged his head and it hit the thick pillar, smashing instantly into pieces as it fell to the ground.

“One of these days, you really will be the death of me.” Zuran said with a glare.

The girls ignored him as they continued chatting.

Imyra giggled as she started freezing a cup of wine into a solid cylinder, “I didn’t get half of that but try not to kill him. It’d be like destroying a national treasure, that’s… wrong, I think. Anyway what language does he teach you?”

“Right now, it’s Peslian.”

“The language of the northern mountain domains? Even I’ve never learnt that one.”

“Even a princess has it easier than me.” Olivia sighed dramatically and let her forehead fall onto the mat with a bang.

“You know, it’s kind of a relief if he’s not a gigolo. I mean, can you imagine the scandal? That’s Her Majesty’s brother-in-law!” Imyra dissolved into a fit of giggles at the notion.

She could feel her uncle’s glower on her and that made her laugh even harder. Soon, almost abruptly, she felt a lump stuck in her throat and started coughing violently instead. She tried to drink something to calm her lungs, but she had long turned all her drinks into ice. She grabbed a bottle lying next to Lexi and downed its meager remainders.

Zuran gave her a short cursory glance and made no move to help her.

When Imyra managed to stop her coughing fit, she glared at Olivia whose face was still pasted to the mat. “Olivia? You still alive there?”

“Alive. Still alive.” She groaned lifting a finger up as indication.

Their group was soon discovered by a raging Vera and a curious Leyla who sniggered behind her in schadenfreude. Imyra agreed with Olivia when she muttered under her breath that it was behaviour truly undignifying for a woman of her age.

The aftermath was disastrous, even if, by some miracle, neither Olivia nor Imyra had lost control in their intoxication and accidentally wreaked havoc anywhere. It was a very angry Vera who set them to straights. They were all punished with being Vera’s kitchen slaves whenever she demanded it. It was either that or being forbidden from eating any Vera food for the unforeseeable future and everyone, without hesitation, chose the former.

Nara and Olivia, the instigators and true culprits, were dealt with the least harsh due to their contribution and preservation of the belderik. Imyra, with eyes laden with suspicion, surmised that there was a conspiracy behind it while Lexi, the first to be knocked out by the wine, only marvelled at not being wakened by the animal’s howls.

Zuran was the only one exempted from kitchen duty as he claimed, that it was the others who’d pressured him into coming along. Vera was sceptical, but on account of him being a guest and no resident as well as her blatant weakness for his beautiful face, she let him off. Imyra didn’t understand why she didn’t receive the same treatment. She was beautiful though admittedly not as much as her uncle and she was a guest too, but no, it was a world of discrimination against women.

For the rest of Imyra’s stay at the residence, Vera used Imyra as a freezer, an oven, a steamer and various other applications that only Imperials with their unrestricted zorne seemed to be capable of. She seemed elated at having an Imperial, who wasn’t as incompetent as Olivia, at her beck and call. When Chennae tried Vera’s new recipes possible only through the use of Imyra’s new zorne techniques, she approved and lessened Imyra’s workload of other jobs and told her to focus on serving Vera. To think she’d braved the Reaper’s forest while being chased by dozens of assassins to find the Ancient Witch and ask for her tutelage only to be reduced to a kitchen maid. No, not even a maid. She had become a bona fide kitchen appliance. How proud her Imperial Mother would be.