A Caged Bird Doesn't Cry - Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Locardi paced restlessly, unable to sit still for even a moment. Though Theodore had never been an affectionate son, his prolonged absence was unnatural. Even the taverns he frequented reported not seeing him for quite some time.
"Locardi, maybe the boy's finally making something of himself? Give it time. Who knows—he might be painting some masterpiece for the ages."
Though Locardi laughed off the tavern keeper's well-meaning words, his mind kept returning to Victor—the man found castrated. With a sudden jerk, he swung his fist at the air.
"How many times did I tell him to stay away from those useless friends!"
The ducal estate offered no answers, with the Duke refusing audiences. Even if granted one, what could he say? "Have you seen Theodore?"
'What do I do...'
He just wanted confirmation his son was safe. Preferably news that Theodore was immersed in his work, oblivious to everything else. But the ducal estate wasn't a place Locardi could wander freely.
"Damn it! Huh? That's—"
As Locardi thumped his chest in frustration, a familiar figure caught his eye—Olivia Trang, the woman who frequently purchased sl*ves in bulk. Why didn't I think of her sooner? He smacked his forehead. Someone with easy access to the estate—Olivia was perfect.
Approaching her, Locardi watched as Olivia pointed at a young female sl*ve.
"How much for that one?"
"As you know, all my sl*ves are premium quality."
Locardi lowered his voice conspiratorially.
"That one's freshly acquired—still spirited. Breaking her in would be... rewarding."
New sl*ves often resisted their fate, making them appealing to those who enjoyed the taming process. Olivia's eyes gleamed with interest, though she masked her distaste poorly.
"I asked for the price."
Her look said "Know your place, sl*ver." Locardi seized the moment, groveling like a dog.
"That one's priceless. Reserved for... special favors."
Olivia's demeanor shifted instantly.
"What kind of favor?"
Perfect. Locardi guided her to a secluded spot. Mentioning the Kalidnas estate sharpened Olivia's curiosity, but after hearing his story, her expression turned ambiguous.
"No guarantees, but I have eyes inside. I can get accurate information. However—"
Deliberately or not, Olivia hesitated. Studying her face for clues, Locardi received a cold warning:
"Don't expect good news."
"Of... of course."
Though disheartened, Locardi clung to hope. He lavished Olivia with extra sl*ves, including a young one—a gesture meant to curry favor. Good deeds, he reasoned, might yield good tidings.
Days later, Olivia's letter shattered that hope.
The news began with Theodore allegedly imprisoned in the estate's underground chambers before delivering the final blow: "The individual in question is believed to have suffered severe physical mutilation."
Locardi collapsed into bed, rising only three days later. After burning the memorized letter, his eyes burned with rage. Lies!
I'll see the truth myself!
Back to square one—infiltrating the estate. Fortunately, Olivia's letter detailed Theodore's suspected location. Better yet, Princess Belliona Perletti's birthday celebration approached. The Duke would be absent, and security lax.
Hold on, Theodore.
Locardi's reply to Olivia dripped with desperation:
"I beg your mercy—aid this wretched father..."
He concluded with a plea to arrange a meeting with Laticia.
Initially disinterested, Olivia now buzzed with excitement upon seeing "Laticia—the human canary."
There might be a way after all.
Smugly, she advised Locardi to strike during the princess's festivities when Andrea would be away.
Soon, that thorn will be gone.
Olivia had no doubt she'd reclaim her position. Even men like Andrea Kalidnas weren't immune to eccentric fascinations—a fact that only made him more enticing.
***
Olivia's social exile was now common knowledge. Princess Belliona, who'd always despised her, delighted in the gossip, frequently summoning maids to recount Olivia's downfall. Each retelling elicited fresh, exaggerated shock from the princess.
At first, Belliona reveled in Andrea's apparent rejection of Olivia. But as whispers of a silver-haired sl*ve grew frequent, her amusement soured. She resolved to use her birthday celebration strategically.
Andrea readily agreed to stroll the rose gardens alone with her. Watched by others, Belliona seized the moment to broach the delicate topic.
"Lord Kalidnas. You're aware my father considers you a potential match?"
"I am."
His deep, assured voice made Belliona misread his compliance as eagerness. Emboldened, she continued:
"As a wife, I intend to fulfill my duties—respecting and understanding my spouse above all."
"Is that so."
"Of course. That includes respecting your... private affairs. Though marital bonds should take precedence."
At "marital bonds," Belliona flushed, her voice wavering briefly before steadying. Andrea's imagined reciprocation fueled her courage.
Perhaps his avoidance of impregnating other women hinted at his consideration for her? The thought clouded her judgment.
"I’m very understanding."
Surely he grasped her implication. Glancing sideways, Belliona’s breath caught at his sculpted profile. His faint smile set her heart racing.
Uninterrupted, Andrea’s mind drifted to Laticia—imagining crushing royal roses against her skin, wondering how their scents would mingle.
She’d blush rose-red yet endure it silently. The predictability amused him, tugging at his lips.
Belliona’s voice, suddenly breathless, shattered the fantasy.
"However—"
Andrea’s gaze slid to her stiff, leathery form, his brow twitching. Compared to his mental image of Laticia—pale and pliant amidst crimson blooms—Belliona resembled a faded portrait: rigid and dull.
What was she saying again?
Private affairs. Respect.
The gist, apparently. Not that Andrea had any intention of sharing his life beyond producing an heir. Belliona was a political pawn—nothing more.
Her next words overstepped grossly.
"But sl*ves are unacceptable. Noblewomen, perhaps—or select maids of mine, if you prefer."
"How generous."
The offer to share her maids—discarding all royal pride—drew Andrea’s sarcasm, which Belliona mistook for praise.
"Sl*ves are beneath livestock. Cattle, horses, chickens—defiling yourself with beasts would tarnish the ducal name."
Andrea tuned out her prattle. Absurdly, his mind conjured a deer—fragile and white, with amethyst eyes.
Laticia.
If forced to liken her to an animal, she’d be a deer. Slender ankles, docile gaze.
Canary suited her, but Andrea settled on white doe. Certainly not livestock.
"I requested this meeting to make this clear, Lord Kalidnas."
The tedious audience neared its end. Spotting Yuhar approaching urgently, Andrea stepped in front of Belliona.
Facing her idol, Belliona’s heart fluttered. The roses, starlight, and distant music crafted perfect romance—an ideal moment for declarations.
Andrea shattered the fantasy.
"Tell me—does this kingdom have sl*ves?"
The brazen question stunned her. Suddenly, the towering man felt like an insurmountable wall. The night turned oppressive; the music, a dirge. Even the roses cloyed.
"You know they’re banned."
Andrea’s smile didn’t reach his Arctic eyes. Belliona’s hope froze—those eyes would never warm for her.
"But... even so..."
She wanted to ask about the black-market trade, the rumors of an ethereal sl@ve in his possession. Yet the words stuck. His dismissal was inevitable.
Desperate, she rambled about "unregulated exceptions," her speech dissolving into incoherence. Andrea’s impatience flickered, frightening her.
Following his gaze, she noticed Yuhar’s agitation. Relieved his irritation wasn’t directed at her, she gracefully yielded:
"I’ve detained you too long. You may go."
She expected parting pleasantries—thanks, compliments. Instead, Andrea left with a curt nod.
Humiliated, Belliona summoned a trusted maid.
"Find out what’s happening in House Kalidnas."
The maid nodded briskly.
***
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