Chapter 96
"Up!"
Something jostled me.
"Wake up!"
No, thank you.
"Mother, wake up!"
Ah. There it was. The final blow.
I forced open eyes, and was met at once with a pair of wide crimson eyes.
Vincent.
Calling me "mother" again, and despite my utter exhaustion, the sound of it made my heart swell. I reached for him and pulled him into my arms. "Good morning, darling."
My throat was ruined. My body, a battlefield. Millicent had ravaged me without pause the previous day. We began while sunlight still warmed the windows and concluded only when the moon stood in judgment.
"You sound sick," Vincent observed.
Yes. Kindly inform your beast of a mother that she has reduced me to a husk of a woman.
Every muscle in my body protested the mere thought of motion. The region between my thighs felt as though it had waged war and lost.
"Vincent," came the cool voice of my captor from across the chamber, "had I not already instructed you to allow your mother the rest she is so clearly in need of?"
I turned my aching head to the side. She was draped in a white silk robe, her hair wet from the adjacent washroom, glistening like some mythical temptress.
Unfair. Utterly unfair.
I sat up slowly and suddenly remembering I was holding Vincent. Panic shot through me as I looked down. To my immense relief, I was dressed. Millicent had seen to it that I was clothed in a nightgown at some point while I was comatose.
She joined us on the bed and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.
"Good afternoon," she said sweetly.
Vincent slapped my hair aside and peered at my neck with suspicion. Then, rather dramatically, he screamed.
"Mother! What is wrong with your neck!"
I glanced at Millicent, who offered me a faint smirk.
"I encountered a wild beast yesterday," I said dryly.
Millicent chuckled and rose. "Let us not keep your tutor waiting. It is time you attend to your studies."
She swept Vincent's left hand, ignoring his flailing limbs as he tried to turn back toward me in protest.
"But Mother is sick! We have to go hunt the beast that made her sick!"
"You already reside with the beast, dearest," I murmured beneath my breath, watching as Millicent and Vincent disappeared through the side door, which opened into a narrow corridor leading directly to Vincent's chambers.
My body was sore, but my heart felt full. But its stay was cut short by an ominous knock at the chamber door.
"Enter," I called. Rising was not an option. I knew with grim certainty that if I so much as attempted to stand, my legs would promptly betray me and deposit me on the floor.
The door opened and, lo and behold, in swept the devil herself looking every inch the genteel matron, draped in propriety and powdered falsehood. Annette wore the expression of a caring mother, the kind one might find painted onto a teacup.
I scoffed. Loudly.
"Spare me the performance. Your revolting attempt at maternal concern is making me ill. Millicent is not here."
She glanced about the chamber, her gaze flitting to every corner like a vulture checking for witnesses. Only when she confirmed the truth of my statement did her expression cool, her green eyes sharpening like a blade drawn in silence.
"I have a proposal," she said, the words brittle with restrained venom.
"I do not care for it," I replied instantly.
"Bear my second grandchild," she continued, "and then leave my daughter. Return to your decrepit husband. Leave Ivoryspire. In exchange, I will grant you a considerable portion of my wealth."
I regarded her with a pleasant smile. "Listen carefully, you ancient bat. I already possess more wealth than you could cobble together if you sold everything in your name and threw in your last breath for good measure."
She stiffened. Good. I do so enjoy rattling the furniture.
"I shall not be merciful a second time, Florence," her voice trembled with rage. "Leave us while I am still civil. Do not force my hand. You know precisely what I am capable of."
"Do I?" I asked, blinking innocently. "Because last I recall, your grand plan to have me eliminated failed rather spectacularly. If you intend to wield threats, you might begin by ensuring your previous ones have not ended in embarrassment."
She inhaled slowly, as though summoning what scraps of composure remained.
A noblewoman, indeed.
But truly, if she thought she was the only one in this estate with a flair for performance, she had grossly underestimated her audience. I, too, am a woman of theatre, and I never miss my cue.
"I could take you away just as easily as I did that day."
"Oh? Do enlighten me," I replied, sweetly folding my hands. "How did you manage that, exactly? You orchestrated the entire affair so seamlessly, it truly did appear as though I simply wandered off into the mist. You even led me to believe it was Millicent who ordered my confinement. Remarkable work, Grand Duchess. You should consider espionage."
Her expression flickered. "You tried to kill my daughter!" she snapped, no longer the poised noblewoman. "What mother would tolerate a murderer in her household?"
"No," I said, gently correcting her as one might a slow child. "You appear to be confusing fantasy with memory. Understandable, at your age. Allow me to refresh your memory. In that charming little prison of a cottage where you locked me up like an inconvenient scandal, where you took my son from me before I had even glimpsed his face, I recall saying quite clearly that I had no intention of killing your daughter. I meant to take my life. And cause mild discomfort to her majestic appendage."
"Impudent wretch!" she barked, fists trembling at her sides.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. She behaved so much like Vincent when he argued with Isabell. If she started stomping her foot, I might have had to offer her a biscuit.
"Well," I said lightly, "it is true. Fortunately for all involved, especially Millicent and I, I suppose, yourself, I missed. A miracle, is it not? For if I had succeeded, I daresay I would not be heavy with child once more."
"I should have killed you!" she hissed.
"Oh, what a splendid title," I pressed a hand to my heart as if moved. "'I Should Have Killed You'. Quite arresting. A chilling little suspense novel, I think. I should start a manuscript at once. You have inspired me, Grand Duchess."
Her composure snapped like a dry twig. "Fine. If it is a game you want, then let us play. I staged your disappearance once. I shall do it again."
"Are you not the least bit worried I might tell Millicent?"
She laughed, full of scorn. "You do not have the spine."
"Perhaps," I mused aloud, "but who is to say I shall not find it after I publish my debut work, 'I Should Have Killed You', inspired by the woman who nearly did?"
She sneered. "Ha! This time, once you have birthed my grandchild, I shall kill you myself."
"How noble," I replied coolly. "Though I admit I am surprised you intend to soil your own hands. You are rather fond of delegation, are you not? After all, it was not you who murdered Dr. Barly, nor the two guards who stood watch. No, you simply gave the order."
At the mention of Dr. Barly, her face resurfaced in my mind. There are moments, even now, when my thoughts drift to that cottage and the quiet mercies she gave me there. My chest tightened. A heaviness threatened to rise.
No.
Now was not the time. To falter in front of Annette would be to gift her the very thing she desired. I swallowed the ache, smoothed my voice, and delivered my next blow with a smile.
"You ought to visit a temple, Grand Duchess. Light a candle. Pray most fervently. Though I doubt Heaven is inclined to forgive you, I do believe it is worth the attempt. One must never rule out divine charity, however improbable."
Her lips parted for another retort, but she froze, her face turning deathly pale.
My eyes narrowed.
Then I saw it.
The side door, slightly ajar.
And behind it, red eyes. Calm, clear, unblinking.
Staring directly at her mother.
My heart stopped. Then, all at once, it began to race.