The Reaper's Wicked Obsession

Isadora watched the wagon approaching the building. There were five of them, guarded tightly. She tilted her head to the side, her brows knitting together in curiosity.

She had seen many wagons from this particular window but not ones like this. Was it someone important?

The familiar sound of a key turning in the lock drew her attention. On cue, Isadora veered away from the window and the door swung open revealing an oversized man—his shoes stomping against the floor loudly as he stepped in.

"Oh good, you're awake!" he said, a grin spreading across his lips, revealing most of his teeth had turned silver.

"G-Good morning, Dashwell"

"Rise and shine, my precious, it's time to make a fortune again. I expect you to be ready, yes?"

Isadora gave a stiff nod in reply.

"Come on, my precious," he drawled. "You have to warm up to me more" he mused. "Now smile for me."

Isadora offered a simple one but it wasn't enough to please him.

"Wider!"

She jumped, complying with his wish. It got so hard to keep her lips stretched that wide but Dashwell didn't care as long as he got exactly what he wanted.

"Now that's better!" he clapped. "Perfect,"

"I take care of you and expect more gratitude, yes?" Dashwell signaled to someone behind. "This will look magnificent on you. I've called Serena to come get you ready." He walked to the bed and dropped the dress. "I want you to look your best tonight"

Isadora eyed the attire and noted it had some coverage this time, unlike the one she wore yesterday.

Dashwell's looming footsteps snapped her out of it, but she kept her eyes on her feet. He didn't like eye contact, complaining that her amber eyes were unsettling.

"The guests today are important. They've come from very far. First, you'll entertain them and then give them your endorsement," he ran a hand through her golden blonde hair. He nodded in approval, satisfied with the length.

"Yes, Dashwell," she replied in a shaky tone.

"I won't tolerate any misbehavior, I want you perfect tonight," his hand moved to cup her cheek before stroking it.

Chills found Isadora's body—the feeling of his sticky hand was nauseating. He had a habit of trying to make skin contact at every chance.

Isadora nodded again and he grunted in approval before leaving her alone to finally breathe.

But the door swung open again startling her—but a breath of relief found her when she realized it wasn't Dashwell but Serena.

"He gave us ten minutes," she said, walking to the dress on the bed, eyeing the fabric briefly. "How one can get ready in that amount of time still baffles me. I've got twenty and it's still not enough."

Isadora forced a smile at Serena's cheerfulness. She always had a way of making her day less miserable.

"He said something about important guests?" Isadora asked. Her mind flashed to that guarded wagon she had seen earlier.

"Ha yes, I should warn you, it's a full house down there,"

Isadora sighed shakily. "How many?"

"Can't tell, but you'll be okay, right? Three is your limit and you can explain to Dashwell and sit this out" she clarified, knowing exhaustion would get to her quickly, the last time she fainted and slept for a whole day.

Isadora shook her head and a frown formed "Dashwell wouldn't listen"

That man would force her into that dress and drag her down himself. He wouldn't take no for an answer. That was exactly the kind of man he was. He always got what he wanted.

"At least I considered it," Serena said, drawing out the barrel and filling it with warm water from the bucket.

Isadora quickly stripped, wrapping her long hair at the top of her head, and sank into the water. Using the sponge to scrub her skin, her anxiety got the best of her, and her scrubs got harder.

"I heard this important guest is a Jarla," Serena revealed.

Isadora's eager scrubbing ceased and with wide eyes, she faced Serena hoping she was joking, however, her eyes didn't lie. "What's a Jarla doing in these parts?"

"Only the ones who seek you, Isadora, you're famous for your abilities" she explained. "Even the great Jarlas can come from their manors to seek the impossible. You're rare."

"It doesn't change the fact they seek a mannfae, isn't that lowering their standards?" Isadora wondered. No matter how hard she tried to think of it she couldn't understand. Why would they travel far for an impure blood like her?

The Jarlas are highborn Faes and their houses held significant influence and power within Fae society. Making such a journey to a place like this was uncommon.

Isadora could see why Dashwell was extra stretchy today. He wanted everything perfect, which meant more gold for him.

Serena sighed, grabbing the sponge to wash her back. She leaned down and whispered in her ear. "A mannfae who's a skin weaver" she reminded her friend who didn't think much about her value.

This doesn't lessen Isadora's nerves. She was okay tending to travelers but someone of status? This could mean worse for her if she made a mistake.

She can't afford to mess this up if such important guests are here. Dashwell's wrath was something she wished to avoid at all costs.

"You'll be fine," Serena assured her. "What could go wrong?"