Chapter 11
My arms are gripped so tightly I cannot struggle.
I open my mouth to scream but then think better of it.
Darius’s warning was clear. If I do, there will be ‘swift consequences’.
That likely means either he or the guard will knock me out, and I need to be fully alert to face whatever awaits me in the dungeon.
But why have I been arrested? It doesn’t make sense.
I have performed my royal taster duties perfectly for the queen.
If what Darius said is true, perhaps she wishes to be rid of me so she can bed Lord Dudley without my judgement?
But why now? Things beyond my grasp are happening, schemes and plots that I can’t understand.
I feel like a pawn in a chess game, one that I have no hope of winning.
The guard unlocks a heavy door banded in iron, and cold air blasts my face from below. It smells of something rotting: death and decay. Understanding passes through me. If I am taken down there, I will not be returning. I struggle and whimper, begging with the guard, ‘Please, no—’
But Darius claps a hand over my mouth. ‘Quiet!’ he hisses in my ear. ‘I will not tell you again.’
I’m dragged down the dark stairwell and make no further protest, my heart thumping in my ears.
By now I am so afraid that I’m on the verge of fainting.
Oh please, God, don’t let me be tortured.
I am not good with pain. But an inner voice tells me to be calm, to breathe, and all will be well. That I have done nothing wrong.
At the bottom of the stairs, I’m marched along a dank passageway, then paused in front of a thick wooden door, peppered with iron studs. Darius knocks, and a muffled male voice intones, ‘Come!’
A dungeon cell lit with candles is not at all what I’m expecting when I’m dragged inside.
Even more surprising is that the square room with its low ceiling is furnished.
A man with long blond hair sits at an oak desk, writing with a quill.
He is wrapped in a black velvet cloak, and the bare arm resting on the paper is thin and pale.
His face is similarly gaunt with protruding cheekbones, but despite this, he is still handsome and possesses a noble presence that commands attention.
But he is no one I have ever seen before.
The cloaked man places the quill in the ink pot and looks at me silently.
Something about the stillness of him, his dark penetrating gaze, chills my bones.
Eventually, he nods to the wall. ‘Over there.’ He is not English. There is a trace of an accent, but I cannot detect where he is from.
The guard shackles my wrists while Darius watches impassively.
‘H-how could you do this?’ I choke out. ‘I trusted you.’ The depth and width of his betrayal are starting to seep in. I was looking forward to a night of passion; now I am chained to a dungeon wall!
‘Leave us,’ the cloaked man murmurs to Darius, who gives me a brief glance but dutifully exits the room along with the guard.
I yank at the shackles, but the chain is short, and I can’t move far. The cloaked man stalks closer, and I shrink back against the stone, as far away as I can get. There is something ... unearthly about him.
‘W-who are you?’
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and does nothing to reassure me. Even more so because I’ve noticed long curved fingernails clutching the edges of his cloak and that his feet are bare upon the stone floor. Does he not feel the cold? He does not seem to be wearing a doublet or hose.
He inclines his head to me. ‘Good eve, Lady Hester. My name is Dimitri. I provide the queen with certain ... services, and in return, she gives me what I crave.’
I blink, confused. Is the queen having an affair with Dimitri? Not Robert Dudley?
‘You may be wondering why you are here,’ he continues, pacing as he talks but thankfully not coming any closer.
‘It is quite simple. The queen needs more freedom. At present, she is so closely guarded she cannot take a breath without feeling watched or spied upon. And her night terrors are growing worse...’
‘I go to her. I help her,’ I say, hoping this will make me indispensable.
Dimitri nods. ‘Yes. She trusts you implicitly. And it is for that reason she has chosen you as her twin.’
‘H-her twin?’
‘Yes, she needs a young woman who looks like her so she can escape the rigours of her royal duties and ... enjoy herself. Since you have red hair and are the same age, you will fit the role perfectly.’ He chuckles and mutters to himself, ‘She has a devious mind, our queen. Only she could have come up with this plan. But I am happy to comply with her wishes.’
‘B-but I cannot pretend to be the queen. People will know I am not her!’
‘It will only be at night,’ says Dimitri patiently.
‘You will swap places through a secret passage she is having constructed between your chamber and hers in each of the royal residences. This way, there will be someone in her chamber at all times, if anyone decides to check upon her whereabouts. With you tucked up in her bed and your red hair spread upon the pillow, it will reassure any curious spying eyes.’
‘Where will the queen be if not in her chamber?’
Dimitri waves a hand. ‘Elsewhere. That is no concern of yours. But you will have to stay awake and await her return to let her back in. The secret door must be kept locked after she goes. She may be away only a few hours or for the whole night. It will be as the whim takes her.’
‘But I cannot pretend to be the queen and stay awake all night awaiting her return, as well as being her lady-in-waiting and her royal taster during the day!’ In truth, I am a bit shocked at all she is asking of me. It is impossible! I am only human after all.
Dimitri smiles and sidles closer. No, stay back! My fingers itch for my cross. I feel like I need something pure and holy to ward against him. But I am not wearing it tonight; it rests in my jewellery box as I wished to wear another necklace for the evening. I am kicking myself now!
‘Exactly. As a human, it would be impossible,’ he says with a snicker.
Fear trammels my breath. How did he know what I was thinking?
‘But as my child, you can perform all your duties to the queen.’
His child! Suddenly, Dimitri is right there, his cold clawed hand clutching my jaw. My eyes swivel down; and the velvet cloak is flapping open, revealing his wasted naked form, jutting rib bones and a dangling shrivelled member—the body of a demon!
I close my eyes tightly and pray fervently, ‘Dear God, keep me under your loving grace and protection. Repel all evil—’
‘Silence!’
I shut my mouth but still pray in my mind, and the demon chuckles.
‘I wish you were not so religious. But it does not matter to me.’ He trails a sharp fingernail down my neck, as if tracing a vein.
I shudder and twist away from him while praying faster.
Dear God, protect me! Deliver me from the evil one!
Cold lips suck at my throat. ‘W-what are you doing?’ I gasp.
‘Fulfilling my royal duty and taking what I crave...’
The velvet cloak encompasses us like a shroud, and the candlelit room disappears from my sight.
The demon writhes, his naked body pressing against mine in the darkness.
It is like he is possessed by a frenzy! The horror is almost too much to bear.
But then the distinct smell of roses drifts to my nose, and my panic falls away.
I become loose-limbed, drifting, like this is happening to someone else.
Something needle-sharp pierces my throat.
It is mildly painful. The demon licks and moans, then pulls fiercely upon my neck, and I am roused enough by his swallows and ecstatic groans to understand that he is drinking my blood and that I need to fight for my life.
But my attempts are futile since I am shackled, and despite his scrawny body, the demon is strong.
He drinks deeply of my blood, more and more until I know I cannot possibly survive.
‘No, no!’ I cry weakly.
Oh yes! Your queen has deemed it so, says a godlike voice in my head. But as I fade into rose-scented oblivion, I know my prayers haven’t been answered and the voice I’m hearing most certainly doesn’t belong to God.