Katsuo was satisfied when he made the deal. He got a good price for the material. Now he only had to persuade Ciara to go with him to the tailor the next day since it was probably closed already. He turned to tell her his wish and was surprised to see that she wasn’t there. He looked around, hoping to see her, but she was nowhere to be found.
“Deliver this at the castle. Today,” he told the merchant, distracted.
“That’ll be another silver—”
“Forget it,” he bit out, grabbed the material, and strolled up to the nearest pair of guards. His afternoon went so well after he had escaped the castle. Why was it turning out this way? His instincts screamed in alarm.
“Have you seen a foreigner woman in a kimono?” he asked the guards as soon as they were within ear-shot. One of them, a man in his late twenties straightened as he noticed him and bowed. The other, who was a teenager, looked between them in confusion but followed his partner’s lead.
“A foreigner in a kimono?” The older one echoed. “Yes, I have seen her standing with you, sir.”
“I mean, after that! She disappeared. Have you seen anything?”
The man scratched his chin, thinking.
“No, I can’t say I have seen what happened.” He looked at the teenager next to him. “What about you?”
“I haven’t seen a foreigner in kimono.”
Katsuo suppressed a growl. His thoughts raced one after another. What had happened to Ciara and how come no one had seen anything? Her scent lingered in his nose and he looked to the side.
“Milord?”
“Boy, take this to the castle,” he shoved the bundle of cloth and the jar of honey at the teenager who stumbled to gather the items. Then he addressed the other guard. “You stay in this area in case she comes back. If you see something, report it back to me.”
“How will I get in touch with you, sir?”
Katsuo’s eyes twitched. They were wasting time. Ciara’s scent was fading.
“Just tell Taiki,” he said and ran off after the scent.
“That was weird,” the teenager said afterward. He received a smack to the back of the head.
“Idiot, that was Lord Kitayama! You better deliver that stuff right away then come back!”
“Eeek!”
***
She regained consciousness for a moment then lost it. This happened several times during the trip which felt like days had gone by. Finally, Ciara was put down on a flat surface. Her fingers touched wood. She smelled dirt and urine. Ciara crunched up her nose and pushed herself off the floor despite the sudden vertigo. She put a hand on her forehead, hoping to stop the spinning.
“What did you do to me?” she croaked. Her voice was not unlike her own grandmother with a throat infection.
“Oh, you’re already awake? I’m impressed,” said a man’s smooth voice. Ciara peeked out from between her fingers which were spread over her face. The spinning worsened, so she closed her eyes. She felt sick and couldn’t care less if her kidnapper was impressed or not.
I wonder how impressed he’ll be when I throw up on him, she idly wondered, finding humor in the situation.
“Do you want me to make it better?”
Ciara squinted, trying to make out his face. He sounded familiar, and she had the feeling she had seen him somewhere before but couldn’t recall when exactly. It didn’t help that his face was blurred together with the environment. Everything was fuzzy, no matter how many times she blinked. She couldn’t even figure out how the room looked or if it was even a room.
“Do you want me to make it go away?” he repeated. She focused on him.
“For free?”
He chuckled.
“Of course not.”
Ciara felt like throwing up. She put a hand in front of her mouth and leaned forward.
“Oh dear, I didn’t know you’d react so strongly to that smell. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re not human,” he mused. His voice moved closer. He squatted down near her, but kept enough distance so that he wouldn’t be in the danger zone. Ciara breathed in deeply. The smell in the air made her want to gag.
“Or are you? Are witches humans?”
She jerked at that and turned to fully face him. Still, she couldn’t make out his exact features. He had dark hair and a round face, but everything was blurry. Was this how Karen felt when she couldn’t find her glasses? This was torture!
“Not in the mood to talk?” He reached a hand out to stroke her hair, and Ciara jerked her head away and scowled at nothing in particular. The man let his hand linger for a moment, before forcefully grabbing her hair and pulling it back. A shriek escaped Ciara’s throat before she felt the bile rise in her throat. Throwing up would be a very bad idea, considering her position, so she fought with every ounce of her being to calm her stomach. Something wet rolled along her cheek and she realized she was crying. She didn’t want to! Not in front of her torturer!
She could actually hear him smirk when he spoke again: “I can help you. You just need to say the word, and I’ll make it all go away.”
Like hell.
She managed to spit in his face in her anger, and he angrily dropped her to the floor. More disastrous smells and a worsening headache awaited her.
“I see you want to get right to business.”
He dug his elbow into her back, and a sob tore from her at the helplessness she felt. After a moment of silence, he continued his monologue in a calm, chatty manner.
“See, when I brought you through, I thought you could make something useful. You know, magical objects or something, but then I realized I got the wrong witch.”
Ciara had a hard time concentrating on his words. She tried to make sense what was happening around her.
“Who are you?” she croaked. “Why are you doing this?”
“Silence! I didn’t say you can speak!” He put more weight on his elbow. Now the tears streamed down freely on Ciara’s cheek as she cried out. She felt as if her lungs were being crushed. Surprisingly, the man eased up on her back. “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I got the wrong person. But you may be even more useful than her. I can adjust my plans, no worries. So, my question to you. What would you do for the chance to go back home?”
Ciara froze.
“I see I have your attention. Now, you may speak.”
After a heartbeat of silence, Ciara spoke up. Her voice was but a whisper. “What do you want?”
“Nothing difficult, really. Sing for me.”
“What the—?” Ciara turned her head to try and look up at him. She was flabbergasted.
“Don’t look at me like that. If you sing me a certain piece at the time and place of my choosing, I will make sure you get home safely.”
“Are you serious?!” Ciara asked in disbelief. She couldn’t hope—she wouldn’t—but all this suffering for just one song?
“I am.”
“What song are we talking about?” Her curiosity got the better of her. Going home was within reach, and all she had to do was to sing a song? It was unbelievably lucky!
A dark chuckle left his lips, which made her shiver with a bad feeling. There was a catch, she just felt it in her bones. However, silly as human nature was, she still held onto hope, on the slim chance that it could be that easy to solve all her problems.
“An aria.”
“Which one?” Ciara closed her eyes. She suspected the worst.
“Queen of the Night.”