Homecoming Hypnotism Ch. 06 Pt. 01

But he would be unforgiving to those who sought to oppose him, if there even was anyone who could stand up to mark. And, really, just why would anyone want to?

*

Of course, things in any kingdom were hardly destined to go smoothly. The three carriages click-clacked at a smart pace back into the grounds of his primary mansion, only to find a black-haired woman waiting for him on the steps. His brow furrowed as he stepped from the carriage but so caught up was he in the spell that he had woven for himself that he truly thought he was invincible. He could control anyone he wanted to, after all -- how could he not be impervious to all harm?

And she was jaw-dropping too, gorgeous to the nth degree, a fall of jet black hair sweeping down past her shoulders as she turned a perfectly made-up face on him, her lips as red as a whore's. An eyebrow cocked and, with how smartly she was dressed, he would have taken her to be some manner of saleswoman, although even then he could not fathom just how she'd gotten by the security gate and their groundkeeper. Since enslaving more people, of course, he'd been able to bring more and more back into the employ of the estate, everyone treating it all as perfectly normal that he went around with his naked trophies most of the time.

It didn't matter to him how she got in, however: he would make her his anyway. Fixing his eyes on her, he stretched out his fingers demandingly, crooking them in her direction as if to add a flourish to his power.

"Pacta Sevanda."

And yet... Nothing changed. Nothing happened. He may as well have been speaking the trigger words to an empty set of steps, his lustful harem and nuns patiently waiting behind him, watching the scene with perfectly beatific, impassive eyes. There was no humiliation to be had though while they were under his command and he rocked back on his heels, taking in the measure of the strange woman who simply showed no response whatsoever to the exertion of his will and power.

She raised an eyebrow, so perfect that it could have been taken straight from one of his mother's magazines. Again, he tried, repeating the word not without a frustrated twitch, a muscle jumping in the corner of his eye. She should have been down on the ground begging for him, proclaiming her servitude to him! Why wasn't it working?

"My master wishes to speak with you."

Mark straightened, hiding his unrest. Master? Why couldn't he control her? What was wrong? Had the convent taken something from him inadvertently? Had the ritual to infuse him with power gone wrong? Could it even go wrong like that?

"And what if I don't want to speak with him?"

She smiled, too serenely.

"Then my master will be displeased. He has many enslaved in his service, like you only more." She paused as if for effect, the tiniest of pulls twitching at her lips. "Many more. He is surprised that your kingdom has not grown much larger in all this time, which is why he did not contact you sooner. Come to this place at seven o'clock. He will be waiting for you."

She turned on her heel, leaving a piece of paper fluttering in mid-air that he had to lunge and snatch up like he was a much lesser man than he was, the sort of man that was not a king at all. Still, he sealed away his curse behind closed lips, eyeing the address on the paper. It was by no means conventional but there didn't seem to be anything else at all that Mark could do as he stepped back, Victoria and Sarah hovering, his mother's hand fluttering about his arm.

"King Mark... Are you quite alright?"

Closing his hand into a fist, crumpling up the paper, he nodded sharply.

"I will be. Come with me, my pet."