The Devil's Warrior Queen
Chapter 82: Ink Stained Fingers

Chapter 82: Ink Stained Fingers

She was about to brush her hair when she heard a knock on the door. She hesitated for a slight moment before approaching the door. She swung it open to meet Lyla standing in front of her, a subtle smile on her face.

"Do you need anything?" Lyla asked, even though she hadn’t rang for anyone.

"No. I’m fine, thank you." Rama replied.

Lyla’s gaze skimmed over her from head to toe.

"The dress looks perfect on you but your hair isn’t done yet, why don’t I help you with it." The woman offered with a big smile, her sing song accent made her even more endearing.

"Of course, thank you." Rama said as she slid the door wider, gesturing for her to come in.

Rama sat at the chair in front of the dressing mirror, while Lyla took hold of the brush, her face gleaming with delight to style her hair.

Lyla brushed the woman’s hair of raven black strands that cascaded as it flowed down her back like a river of silk. Her jade eyes held a mix of curiosity and apprehension as the maid gently parted her hair with skilled fingers, preparing to weave it into an intricate masterpiece.

"How long have you been working here, Lyla?" Rama queried as the maid’s fingers moved with the grace of a practiced artist, solely engrossed in her work.

"For as long as I could remember since I was taken captive as a child." the woman explained.

"You’ve been serving lord Damien since you were a child?" Rama queried, earning a dry chuckle from Lyla.

"Yes, how long have you been taken?" The woman queried. The air grew thick with silence for a while before she spoke.

"Not too long ago, apparently a few weeks ago." Rama said in a clipped tone.

"Well, you’re lucky to be in lord Damien’s abode. I heard about you, it’s unbelievable that the king let you live." Lyla said, shaking her head in disbelief, while Rama cringed a bit at the woman’s knowledge of who she was, as well as the ruination of her kingdom.

"It is indeed." Rama said and the room fell into deafening silence once again.

"Do you like your stay here?" Rama queried.

"Lord Damien treats humans courteously, but if you take it for granted, you’ll get your punishments." Lyla stated.

"I see." Rama mumbled, it was an expected reply, after all a genuine smile grazed her lips.

"Overall it’s being a peaceful stay in the lord’s mansion, I’m sure you’ll like it here and moreover he doesn’t see you as a maid, but rather a guest, it’s not surprising." Lyla said with a smile reaching her lips.

"Don’t you think it’s baffling for a vampire lord to treat a human captive as a guest?" Rama queried rhetorically.

"It is, but not for the lord of the house especially if he takes a liking to you, irrespective of your status." Lyla stated.

Rama figured her words were liable, after all he had confessed his so called feelings to her which could explain his gracious gestures towards her, but no matter how generous he turned out to be, there were no fluttering wings in her belly nor was she flustered by his courteous behaviours.

"I see." She muttered while Lyla continued with her hair in silence.

"It’s a bit strange because the lord has never invited a guest, he’s rather keen on his privacy, I was a bit startled at the announcement of your arrival." Lyla added in.

"Ah, is that so? He might be bored, he probably just needs company now." Rama said with an edgy chuckle.

"Lucky you, young lady. You’ve caught the eye of lord Damien." The woman said as she gave her a mischievous wink, while Rama let out an unsure chuckle, rather a snort at the remark.

"It has always been a hassle for the lord to take a genuine liking to any lady, but he seems to dote on you so much as to share the same space even though his privacy is intruded." Lyla breathed out in a murmur.

Rama still couldn’t quite take his confessions or gestures seriously, she was a rather new toy that everyone wanted to play with until they got bored, but perhaps if his feelings were claimed liable, she couldn’t reciprocate it, she had no future to look up to, it was plunged in darkness already.

The older maid deftly seperated sections of her, her fingers gliding effortlessly through the strands as if she were ochestrating a symphony. She worked methodically, weaving delicate braids that crisscrossed and intertwined, creating a mesmerizing pattern that seemed to dance like shadows upon the wall.

As she worked, the maid blabbed, her voice was soothing, a gentle stream of words that seemed to carry a lifetime’s worth of experience.

She spoke of ancient tales and whispered secrets of the night creatures, her voice a comforting backdrop to the soft rustle of fabric and the hushed ambiance of the chamber.

With each intricate twist and turn, Rama’s initial tension gradually melted away, giving her solace and comfort in the woman’s presence.

She closed her eyes as she surrendered to the soothing touch of the maid’s hands and the melodic cadence of her voice as her fingers worked like magic on her scalp.

Finally, as the main secured the last braid with a delicate silver hairpin, she stepped back to admire her creation with a wide grin as her eyes sparkled with satisfaction.

Her head had been transformed into a work of art, a symphony of braids and twist that adorned her like a crown.

Rama opened her eyes when she felt her fingers withdraw from her hair. Her reflection in the vanity’s mirror revealed the stunning transformation.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she turned her hair this way and that, marveling at the intricate design that now graced her hair.

"Finishing look, you look nothing less than a damsel." The woman praised.

"Thank you so much, it’s beautiful, but don’t you think it’s too much?" Rama said as she admired her hair.

"Nothing is too much. When you live in the midst of the night creatures, you’re expected to look your best, not less." The woman said.

"Thank you, Lyla." Rama said.

"I’ll be on my way, if you need anything don’t hesitate to ring a maid." Lyla said before exiting her chamber.

Rama sighed, she was finally free, the air seemed less tense and she felt more at solace without Draco’s presence, but still she felt a gaping difference, almost as if something was missing, was it boredom? She pondered inwardly.

Being someone who loved the thrill of adventure and danger, Draco did serve her a lot of that but at a costly price.

Her eyes wandered around the room until it dropped on the study table where stacks of parchment and a quill lay atop it.

She loved writing as a hobby, at least she could put out all the heavy feelings weighing heavily in her heart on paper, preferably write to her father about her ordeal, she missed him, although she was dead, writing to him would make her feel closer.

She sat on the chair, taking a single paper from the parchment as she dipped the quill in ink, hands hovering above the paper as she proceeded to write.

’Dear beloved father,

With a heavy heart and ink stained fingers, I compose this missive to you, seeking solace in sharing the harrowing ordeal that has befallen me. As a captive in the chilling grip of the vampire king, I found myself reflecting on the choices that led to the loss of our kingdom and the weight of my remorse grows ever deeper. In the days that have passed, my life has become a tale of darkness and despair. Once vibrant halls of our palace now echo with the whispers of the night, bearing the marks of the vampire king’s dominion. The banners that flutter in the wind no longer carry our proud emblem, but his sinister crest.

My heart aches, Father, for the mistakes I’ve made and the arrogance that blinded me to the impending threat. My longing for power blinded me to the signs, and now I am ensnared in my own abyss of grief and darkness. The vampire king’s blood-red gaze pierces my soul, and his chilling whispers haunt my thoughts, a constant reminder of my vulnerability.In this letter, I offer my sincerest apologies for my hubris. The fall of our kingdom weighs heavily upon me, a heavy cloak of regret that I bear. Oh, Father, how I wish I had heeded your wisdom, embraced humility, and stood vigilant against the darkness that now envelops us.

As I put quill to parchment, I hold onto the memories of your guidance and the stories of honor and courage you shared. They resonate more deeply now, reminding me of the virtues I should have upheld. The loss of our realm is a wound that festers, yet within me burns a resolve to rise from the ashes, to confront the vampire king and reclaim what was lost.

May these words find a way to reach you, carried on the wings of my remorse and determination. Though I am captive, the spirit of defiance remains unbroken within me, a testament to the queen I once was and the legacy you bestowed upon me.

Yours in sorrow and hope,

Rama.’