Chapter 14
F irst, I had to think of a design. This was not easy. I cast my mind back over the few times I’d seen such luxuries, when Father or another Sanlyn merchant or trader had brought one home. Finally, an idea formed. An idea of a soft, swirling skirt, lightly enhanced by silvery threads. Of a bodice, open in a V down the back to allow for freedom of movement, embroidered with tiny flowers.
“This will be a great deal of work,” I muttered, as I stared at the fabric and the sewing accouterments before me. I sighed, withdrawing the scissors from the basket. And yet—what had I to lose? If this plan did not work, I would come up with another. This was not a matter of life and death, but of freedom and independence. Also, of having something to do to prevent me from dying of boredom.
To that end, I leaned over the edge of the desk, smoothing ripples out of the blue satin with one hand before pinning it down with my palm against the table. With my other hand, I positioned the shears against the edge of the fabric…and snipped.
That night, I slept an unnaturally deep sleep. However, dark dreams disturbed my rest. Dreams of running down gloomy, dank corridors. Corridors of stone that grew smaller and smaller until I was hunched over, fearful that they would press in so tightly they’d squeeze me to death. And yet still I ran, desperate to find something.
What did I seek?
I heard a heartbeat. As I scurried along, like a mouse down its burrow, that heartbeat pulled me to it, pounding in my ears.
I am coming, I thought desperately. Hold on. I’m coming. I’m coming.
But where was I going? To whom was I speaking?
I woke with a start, my entire body jolting on the mattress. The cave room that served as my bedchamber was dark during the night hours. So dark. Chilly. And yet…
Warmth. Beside me on the bed. I turned towards it. As my sight adjusted to the darkness, I picked out the outline of a figure resting beside me. His deep, even breaths meant he’d either not awakened, or else he was skilled at feigning sleep. I thought it was the former. What need had he to feign sleep? His prisoner was here, next to him, unable to flee due to the magic of the cave. Unable to fight for lack of weapons.
Lack of weapons…
In the shadows, I stared down at my hands. Or where my hands should be. Truthfully, the chamber was so dim I could not even see them.
“I have my hands,” I whispered aloud.
I glanced over at his sleeping figure. Could I do it? Did I dare? He’d not harmed me, beyond kidnapping and bringing me here. He’d not assaulted or violated me in any fashion. Although, were anyone to discover a strange man came into my room night after night and lay beside me, my reputation would be in tatters, whether he’d violated me or not.
I can’t, I thought, even as I briefly allowed my mind to picture myself climbing on top of him and pinning him down, my hands around his throat. Squeezing. Or picking up a pillow from the bed and using it to smother him.
Even as I accepted the fact that I didn’t have it in me to try and kill a sleeping man who’d done little harm, I also had to reckon with the fact that, were the endeavor to go astray, he would wake up and fight back. This might end with him on top of me, his hands around my throat, squeezing, or him holding the pillow over my face, smothering me.
Bad idea, Lorna, I told myself. Folly. Best to forget these foolish notions.
Nevertheless, I felt trapped and anxious. Perhaps the panic of the dream still vexed me. All I knew was I could lay there no longer. I had to get away from this man, even if it was only to sit at my desk, alone in the dark. I could likely breathe better there.
With aching slowness, I shifted my weight from my bottom to my knees. The man was sprawled beside me, between the desk and me. Between the door and me. That thought made me pause for a moment, staring hard at where his head rested. Was that why he lay here? Had it nothing to do with sensuality, or companionship, or guardianship, or anything of the kind, but an attempt to keep me here? Was lying next to me, blocking my escape route, a manner of maintaining my captivity? Even though I’d already gotten past him once.
Well, he’d not prevent me from having space tonight. Carefully, I scooted my knees closer to him. I lifted my right knee, preparing to leverage it over his legs and onto the spare bit of mattress on the other side. At the same time, I shifted my weight onto my left wrist, even as I also raised my right hand…
Only to see a blur of motion and feel a burst of movement. Out of nowhere, an iron hand shot through the dark, seizing my wrist. The stranger bolted up in bed, knocking me off balance. I screamed, pitching backward onto the mattress.
“Fleeing the coop, little bird?” he asked.