Verdict Of Her Father

Cassandra LeBlanc was led to the private chamber of her father; Thalorian LeBlanc. One of the five high mages of the Magical Kingdom of Speldaria but the one who held the highest authority. 

She tentatively knocked, and nervousness gripped her like a vice. 

"Enter!" Thalorian's deep gruff voice sounded from inside and her heart clenched. 

Her father could be cruel and ruthless if he chose to be.  

Cassandra opened the ochre shaded double door by pushing against it with her shaking hands and entered tentatively. 

Her father was elegantly perched upon his throne-like high seat with his hands steepled in front. His hawk-like eyes were focused on his youngest offspring. The one he considered to be his biggest shame. 

"Father! You called for me." Cassandra respectfully folded her hands in front and slightly lifted her head to make eye contact with her father. 

Thalorian leaned back in his chair and asked.

"Yes, have you met the barbarian brute sent for you?" 

"I have," she politely answered in a meek voice, lowering her eyes.  

"You are taking part in the arena this year. Making your debut. He will be your representative. Ensure he gives us a spectacular show. We are inviting Shifter Alphas this year, a peaceful treaty is what we sought. Don't disappoint me more," Thalorian informed her with disgust visible in his voice. 

So what Stephanie had said was true. 

Her father was indeed throwing her into the arena, knowing she had no magic. She wouldn't survive much longer. 

A shiver scuttled down her spine and settled in her gut, spreading panic throughout her system. 

"But…" she lifted her desperate eyes to plead her case. 

"There will be no buts, Cassandra. Do your duty as it's required of you. Go train now, make yourself useful for once. I desire this event to be unparalleled to what anyone has ever experienced before." 

He paused, "The Alpha of Dusartine has personally requested you be the participant, exactly the reason he sent one of his best warriors. It's all a sport, let's give them an impressive one."

Train? What was she to train for?

Why was an alpha interested in seeing someone like her in the arena? 

Was he as sadistic as the men of her kingdom?

Arena had teams with two people making a single one. 

One mage and one warrior. 

Mages strategised with their partners and planned their battles. They had each other's back and worked as one unit to win. 

But without magic how was she to defend him? She had decent sword skills but will they even come in handy against magic, lightning-fast shifters, vampires, orcs and who knew whom her father had invited this year? 

It was useless to argue with her father though. 

"Yes, Father," she defeatedly said and bowed in respect. She was suffocating under his scrutinising gaze and wished to leave here as soon as possible. 

Her body moved, her feet shuffled, taking her closer to the door, a few more steps and she would be out of there. 

"Die if you have to in the arena but don't bring shame to me. A dead daughter is better than a shamed one." His heartless words had her halting but she didn't spin around to face him. Tears scalded the back of her eyes but none escaped. 

"Then I guess I will die," she stiffly said before rushing out of that stifling place. Her feet made no noise against the cold colourless floor. 

A lady through and though she had been taught to be, even when her life was falling apart. 

Her father had never disciplined her by vetting out physical punishments but his emotional torture was enough to leave her soul in shambles. 

If only her mother was alive…

In her quickness, she bumped into someone and almost fell to the ground if her wrist hadn't been caught by a strong hand. She was pulled forward and was made to stand on her feet. 

Her breath becoming irregular for her heart was going berserk. 

Raising her head she wished she hadn't been hasty. He was the last person she wished to see in that moment.  

"Is all well with you?" He slowly asked, steadying her and letting go of her wrist quickly as if her touch had scalded him. 

Cassandra hurriedly composed herself and curtsied. 

"I apologise, I shouldn't have made haste."

"No apologies needed. Is it true though?" A hint of curiosity she sensed in his voice as his cerulean eyes tried to read her face. 

"True what?" Her heart throbbed in her swelled chest. She had a hint of what he wished to inquire. 

"That you are taking part in the arena and already have a warrior gifted to you by the Alpha of Dusartine for it?" Her fiancé asked, a hint of surprise in his voice but no possessiveness as should have been. He could have prevented this. He was her father's right hand man. 

"Yes! Commander Razial," she politely answered, no butterflies were dancing in her stomach when she spoke to him. They had long died because of his indifference. 

There was a time when she was mesmerised by the handsome Mage Commander. Like a naive girl with unrealistic dreams. 

He was hers now and yet he wasn't. The arrangement was forced by her father on the pretext she wouldn't find a good match elsewhere and his biggest shame would remain under his roof. 

She felt nothing now.

Empty like a hollowed shell, who's pearl had been lost. 

The way he spoke to her, all bland and emotionless, it killed her more every time. But she had learnt to guard her heart around him. He didn't affect her the way he used to. 

And she wondered, being the commander working directly under her father. He knew someone was sent for her and yet he made no effort to interfere. 

She half expected him to say that he would speak to her father that she wasn't fit for the arena. Where blood flowed like water and only people with years of training dared set foot in it?

But, Cassandra was stretching her luck. 

"Good luck then, I will see you around," he said politely but without a hint of envy or unease. It felt like he was almost relieved. 

No one loves the cursed child like her who had killed her mother during childbirth. And turned out to be such a disappointment, being a mage princess and possessing no magic. 

She was an abomination. 

Why would a mage of his calibre ever want or love her? 

He seemed disgusted, almost. 

"Of course," she answered, trying to keep the hurt and bitterness from creeping up in her voice. The unshed tears were held at bay too.

She watched him leave, his blue and silver cloak effortlessly flowed behind him and so did his long raven hair. A straight braid rested elegantly in the centre of his locks.

With a restless sigh, Cassandra turned her head and headed back to her room. 

She had to have a conversation with the mysterious warrior. He did within a few minutes what Razial couldn't do in all their years of knowing each other. 

He had made her heart race like it had never and before. 

But how? 

Was he mute though? 

How did he escape the silver chains?

So many questions crowded her already stuffed brain.

There was only one way to find out. She had to go speak to him. 

Her steps picked up the pace as she hoped that servants had moved him from her chambers and assigned him some guest chamber.

But all her hopes were deflated when she neared her room and found him standing outside. With his overly brawny and tanned arms crossed over his toned chest. 

And then his gold-dusted eyes lifted and found hers, pinning her to the ground and stealing her very breath.