Chapter 42
Kyle had just finished indulging his desires and slipped effortlessly into slumber. I, however, remained awake, my mind refusing the same peace. The past clawed its way to the surface, refusing to be buried beneath the weight of years.
I slipped from the bed and moved to the vanity. In the dim glow of the moonlight spilling through the small window, my reflection stared back at me. There I was, exposed, stripped of every pretense. My eyes trailed downward past my breasts, to the scars that adorned my body like a masterpiece of suffering. Faint silver lines and angry ridges marred the canvas of my flesh.
Lifting my right hand into the light, I examined the place where my pinky once was. The scar was uneven, ugly. My thumb traced over the empty space, my chest tightening at the memory.
The beginning of that winter, my seventeen-year-old self and my dear Cecilia met disaster.
It was midday when it all began. Cecilia and I had been at some insipid gathering, invited by a noblewoman whose name I had not cared to remember. I had no wish to attend, but a letter from my father arrived, his words an iron chain binding me.
Cecilia and I had been minding our own business when the doors burst open, and a swarm of soldiers flooded the room like a tide of polished steel. Some blocked the exits, while others scanned the chamber. Gasps rippled through the gathering, nobles clutching at their pearls and whispering behind gloved hands, the scent of scandal thick in the air.
One soldier stepped forward and inclined his head stiffly. "Lady Florence, you stand accused of illegal slave trading. I must insist that you accompany us at once."
"Pardon?" The single word escaped me.
The room stilled, the weight of a hundred eyes pressing down upon me, their whispers now silent.
Cecilia's voice rang out. "Absurd! My lady is guilty of no such crime!"
A soldier's gaze flickered to the brand on Cecilia's neck, his eyes narrowing before he motioned to another. At once, a second soldier advanced toward her. "Her loyalty to you is evident," he remarked. "If she pleads for your innocence, then surely she shares in your guilt."
My head snapped toward Cecilia, who had instinctively reached for me. I pulled her close in an instant. "You will not lay a hand on her."
A hand latched onto my arm, pulling me forward with a force that nearly made me stumble. Another seized Cecilia, my protests falling on deaf ears. My wrists were wrenched behind me, bound with rough rope that bit into my skin. A blindfold was pulled so tightly over my eyes that pain throbbed against my temples.
The carriage ride was long. The wheels jostled over uneven roads, each violent lurch rattling my bones, each turn disorienting my already panicked mind. I tried to listen, to count, to steady my breath, but the pounding of my own heart roared louder than the hooves striking the earth.
When we finally came to a halt, rough hands seized me again, yanking me from the carriage with no regard for my unsteady footing. I stumbled, my balance wavering without my cane, my left leg refusing to keep pace. Every falter was met with an impatient jerk forward.
A chill crept over my skin as we began to descend. The air grew colder with each step. The unmistakable stench of damp stone filled my nostrils, mingled with something metallic, something rusted and old.
I counted the steps because I had to. I needed something to anchor me to reality, something to keep me from unraveling. Thirty-six. Forty-seven. Sixty-two. This must be the third level underground.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of stumbling through unseen corridors, the sharp screech of iron hinges split the silence.
The blindfold was torn from my face, and I blinked hard against the dim torchlight flickering against the damp stone walls.
My vision adjusted slowly, revealing the grim reality of my surroundings. I was in a small, frigid cell encased in stone on three sides, the fourth secured by rusted iron bars. The soldier cut the ropes that bonded my hands and gave me a forceful shove, sending me stumbling forward. My left leg buckled beneath me, and I collapsed to the ground.
Before I could even attempt to rise, the cell door slammed shut behind me with a resounding clang, the echo reverberating through the narrow corridor like a cruel punctuation to my fate. The sheer finality of the sound sent a jolt of terror through my chest. I spun around, desperation gripping me as I lunged for the bars, my fingers wrapping tightly around the frozen metal.
"Wait!" My voice broke, raw with urgency. "Where is Cecilia? Please, I beg of you, do not harm her! She has done nothing wrong!" My grip tightened, my breath coming fast. "Let me speak to Her Grace! Please! The Duchess will not stand for this! She will set things right!"
My plea rang hollow against the damp walls. The soldier did not even grant me a glance. His heavy boots continued their steady retreat, each step pounding further into the distance, leaving me alone with the flickering torchlight and the suffocating chill of solitude.
My legs gave out entirely, and I slumped against the cold stone, pressing my forehead against my drawn-up knees. The icy dampness seeped through the thin fabric of my gown, the shivers racking through me from more than just the chill.
Cecilia. My mind spun wildly. What were they doing to her? Was she safe? The mere thought of her suffering, enduring some unknown torment at the hands of these men was unbearable. My stomach twisted, an agonizing weight settling over my chest. If she was in pain because of me, if they so much as laid a finger on her, I would never forgive myself.
And then, an insidious thought slithered into my mind, one I dared not entertain, yet could not ignore. Was this Millicent's doing?
No. No, it could not be.
Millicent would not allow this without first seeking the truth. She would never act without reason. She had always been protective, never cruel. Even in jest, even when teasing, there had been a care beneath her mischief, a fondness she never denied.
This had to be a mistake, some terrible misjudgment. I had to reach her. She would listen, she had to listen. She was the only one who could end this nightmare.