Chapter 6 Tortured Beyond Violence
Seri
As I packed my clothes, the faint scent of lavender lingered in the air. It was a scent Mama had adored, and now a bittersweet comfort.
I folded a blouse with a sigh. It had been hers, the crocheted lace trim the last I had of anything she’d made. I placed it in the suitcase, my fingers smoothing over the cotton, praying my future might have just a little of the happiness I’d once known.
Finished packing at last, I closed the suitcase and glanced around, taking in the familiar walls, the window that framed the forest like a painting. It was hard to let go, but I had to. There was nothing for me here. Not anymore.
A soft whimper broke the silence. Josslyn stirred on my bed, her tiny hands clenched in fists as she squirmed. Thankfully, I’d had the good sense to pack her things last night, and now her bags waited for us by the front door.
“Guess what, Josslyn?” I crooned as I slipped into the straps of my backpack, careful of my sore arm. “We’re going on an adventure.”
Picking her up next, I cradled her in the crook of my good arm and grabbed my suitcase handle with my free hand, then tipped my chin up as I stepped into the hallway.
“This is it. Our first steps toward freedom.”
Goddess willing, we wouldn’t fall flat on our faces.
#
The foyer was bathed in the pale light of dawn, the kind of light that made everything feel both fragile and full of promise.
Three cardboard boxes sat by the front door, next to the baby’s diaper bag and her suitcase as well as a nearly empty duffle, the one that hid what I’d salvaged of Papa’s things.
Depositing my own luggage next to it, I tried to make my hands stop trembling as I settled Josslyn into her car seat.
“Miss? Ready for me to take these things to the car?” Austin, one of the new servants hired to take my place, gestured toward our boxes and bags.
“Yes, please. Thank you for your help, Austin.”
He gave me a quick nod and set to work, and I had just finished figuring out how to buckle Josslyn in her carrier when Arabesque’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp as a blade.
“Don’t think for a moment that this is the end of anything, Serafina.”
She stood at the top of the staircase, her silhouette framed by the soft light from the window. Her straight hair cascaded down her shoulders like a black river, and her green eyes gleamed with a malice so polished, it could’ve been mistaken for kindness.
“Distance won’t free you,” she purred.
I stayed quiet, not because of the silence shackle she had cast on me earlier.
A tier three whisperbind, it stopped me from talking about specific matters, things she needed to keep hidden.
But silence had become both my defense and weapon over the past few months, and I wielded it for the last time in my own home.
I looked her in the eye and nodded, perfectly playing the role of the compliant puppet she thought she’d created.
She smiled, a thin, cruel thing that made my stomach twist into knots.
“Now, don’t you worry about a thing, Your audience with King Julian is arranged and your transportation awaits. As per our contract, my daughters will see you to your new home.”
My heart sank as Amabel and Eluned sauntered out of the living room, their laughter light and mocking.
They were identical in every way that mattered: Sharp features, icy eyes, and a cruelty that had been honed to perfection under Arabesque’s guidance.
Amabel, the elder by a few minutes, flashed me a fake smile as she paused in front of me.
“Can’t wait to hit the road with you, stepsister. It’ll be quite entertaining, I’m sure. Just make sure to keep that little brat quiet.”
I bit my tongue so hard, I tasted blood. They were fulfilling the terms of our contract, yes, but that didn’t mean they had to like it or be nice about it. They probably planned to make sure I knew it, too, with every snide comment and veiled insult they could muster for the whole trip.
“Let’s get this over with,” Eluned said, stalking out the front door without so much as a backward glance.
Amabel followed, and I watched them go before I turned to glance up at Arabesque one last time.
She was still there, still smiling, still radiating an air of quiet triumph. Raising my chin, I met her eyes and didn’t blink.
“Don’t think for a moment that this is the end of anything,” I echoed her earlier words and took the greatest satisfaction in watching her shoulders stiffen and her eyes widen.
Turning on my heel, I picked up Josslyn’s carrier and stepped out into the crisp spring air.
The car was waiting, sleek and black, its engine purring softly as I settled Josslyn into the backseat, where Brumous was already stretched out on the floor.
Austin helped me fasten her carrier into the car seat base, and I thanked him.
He was only a few years older than me and seemed like a nice guy, and I wanted to warn him to get away from here as fast as he could.
He was a human, though, and I figured he’d only think I was crazy if I started talking about Dark witches and rogue werewolves and plots to overthrow kingdoms he knew nothing about.
Sliding in next to Josslyn, I closed my door and buckled my seatbelt.
“Let’s go, Amabel,” I ordered.
“Yes, ma’am.” If a voice could slither, it would be hers as she put the car in gear.
Sitting back, I pressed my lips together and watched the Bell homestead disappear from my sight. Brumous, maybe sensing my sadness, nuzzled his head in my lap, and I buried my fingers in his soft fur, finding comfort in his presence.
Josslyn slept fitfully in her seat, her tiny hands curled into fists as if even in slumber she fought battles I couldn’t see.
After a moment, I turned to stare out the window at the blur of countryside rolling past.
“Think you’ll miss us, worthless?” Eluned’s voice dripped with syrupy sweetness from the front seat. Amabel snorted, a harsh, grating sound that made me flinch.
“No, I won’t miss the people who made my life a living hell,” I snapped. “Now be quiet, both of you.”
The hum of the engine filled the silence, steady and unyielding. I closed my eyes, letting the rhythm lull me. The weight of what lay ahead pressed on me, but I pushed it down, down, until it was just another stone in the heavy pile I’d been carrying for years.
I could handle this. I would handle this. For Josslyn, for Brumous, for the spark of hope that flickered stubbornly in my chest.
I had no other choice than to handle it.
#
Even asleep, I felt the car slow down, and my eyes snapped open.
We were turning onto a long, winding driveway lined with ancient oaks, their gnarled branches stretching overhead like nature’s own cathedral.
An enormous mansion stood ahead, its sprawling structure a mix of medieval grandeur and modern elegance.
Guards in crisp uniforms flanked the enormous front doors, their sharp eyes scanning the car as we pulled up.
“The Royal Palace, Werewolf Edition,” Amabel said, her voice laced with malice as she killed the engine. “Make sure you don’t trip on your way in, Serafina. Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself.”
Ignoring her, I unbuckled Josslyn and slipped out of the car, clutching her tightly against me.
“Brummy,” I called, and he jumped out, moving quickly to stay close to me.
The late morning air kissed my face, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. It was clean, crisp, and utterly foreign compared to the stifling atmosphere of the estate I’d left behind.
Two guards stepped forward, their expressions impassive but polite.
“Miss Bell,” one of them said, offering a slight bow. “The king and queen await you. Please, follow us.”
I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. The palace’s grandeur pressed down on me as I followed the guards through the ornate halls, their marble floors gleaming underfoot.
What have I gotten myself into? I thought as I looked around with wide eyes.
Brumous whimpered softly, his head pressed against my knee, and I reached down to bury the fingers of my free hand into his ruff. His soft fur was a silent reminder of why I was here. For him. For Josslyn. For the fragile thread of hope I clung to.
“We have to be brave, Brummy,” I murmured, more to myself than him. “Brave for Josslyn.”
As if he understood me, he left out a soft woof.
By the time we reached the throne room, my sore arm was aching, and I shifted Josslyn to my other shoulder.
As I tried to shake the pain out of it, the double doors before me swung open on well-oiled hinges.
I stepped inside, my breath catching. The room was huge, with high vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows that cast kaleidoscopes of color across the floor.
At the far end, on a dais of black marble, were the king and queen.
King Julian’s sharp blue eyes narrowed as I approached.
His throne was about what I’d expect a werewolf king to sit on, a huge piece of wood carved with all kinds of mythical creatures and ancient runes.
Queen Lilah’s throne, however, was a floral wing chair that would have looked more at home by a library fireplace than here.
In her arms rested a baby who looked slightly larger than Josslyn, which I supposed explained a chair instead of a throne. The queen gave me a warm, kind smile, but it did little to ease the knot in my stomach.
Two people flanked her: A very big man and a strong-looking woman with an enormous baby bump.
And the power radiating off all four of them made me swallow hard.
Goddess, I hope I’m doing the right thing. I don’t have anyone else to ask for help!
“Serafina Bell, your majesties,” one of the guards called out, then bowed before leaving.
My legs trembling, I forced myself to bow, too, then moved toward the dais with timid steps. Josslyn stirred in my arms, and I tightened my hold on her despite my throbbing arm and the fever that was making me sweaty and thirsty. I had come this far. I wouldn’t falter now.