42. Liliana
T he air is cool, the breeze is gentle. I can feel it swirling around, playing with the pale pink silk dress Magnus permitted me to wear. I can hear the birds singing, and as I shut my eyes I feel like I really am in heaven, like I really have died and gone to paradise.
Magnus is behind me, close, but reassuringly so. It feels like he’s granting me this tiny bit of freedom and like a bird that’s been trapped in a cage for far too long, I stretch my metaphorical wings and I revel in tiny bit of peace seeping into my veins.
I know he’s echoing my steps, chasing my shadow but there’s enough distance between us that I don’t feel threatened. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to run. I haven’t even contemplated it .
I just wanted to see this space that I’ve stared longingly out at for so long. I wanted to smell the flowers and remember what it was like to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin.
I reach out, letting my hand brush lightly against the petals of a flower I once knew the name of. It’s purple, bright, flamboyant even. I raise my hands smelling the light scent that lingers there.
I don’t know what my future holds. I don’t know how long I have left.
I doubt Magnus wanted me to hear his conversation with Antonio, that he most likely did not want me to know that that death sentence is still there, hanging over my head.
As I turn my gaze to look back at him, I wonder what he sees in me now.
Is he satisfied by my behaviour? Is he happy that I’ve become so docile, so tamed?
Is that enough to save me?
No, I already know the answer to that. It isn’t enough.
It’s out of his hands. Magnus is going to kill me, it’s just a question of when.
Though my heart breaks at the thought of it, I know there is nothing I can do. If there’s one thing this captivity has taught me, it’s that I don’t have control. I don’t have autonomy. I have nothing. I am nothing. I am a toy, an object. Magnus can use me and hurt me and do as he likes, and there’s nothing I can do but thank him for his time and his attention and in silence I can lick my wounds and weep for the person I was before.
It feels almost satisfying to embrace that fact, to acknowledge it.
It’s liberating in a way to realise that all of it is out of my control now.
My life before was hard, I was in a constant state of fight, a constant state of having to prove myself. Now, all of that is gone. All of that is removed. Magnus took it away, he moulded me, remade me, he took all my sharp edges and he made me worthy of something.
I glance down, stare at the hands that he holds so calmly by his side. Will he strangle me? Will he snap my neck? Or will he stab me, rip my body open with a blade and let my blood pour out?
I gulp, seeing that image, that moment of when I lay there, broken with that chasm of a wound along my arm. It’s healed now. Healed entirely. I run my fingers along the huge scar that remains, and Magnus traces the movement with his eyes.
Does he know what I’m thinking? Does he understand where my head is at?
I don’t dare to ask him, not because I’m afraid of angering him, far from it. I’m afraid of what he will say. If he will lie and try to placate me or if he’ll be honest. If he’ll admit what my fate is.
No, he will tell me. Magnus is nothing if not honest with me. Has been honest with me. He’s never lied to me, he’s never misled me. He’s done the most unforgivable of things to me and yet that one thing I cannot accuse him of.
“What is it, pet?” he asks. His tone isn’t concerned, it’s neutral, curious even, like he wants to delve into the darkest recesses of my mind and find all those twisted awful things that dwell there. The things he’s created. The things he’s nurtured.
I shake my head, deciding it’s better to hold my tongue for once. I guess I am learning, I guess I am growing.
When the time comes, I know he won’t hesitate, so it makes no difference now if I live for a day or a year. Magnus will do as he pleases and I have to accept that fact, even if it does mean I’m going to die.
We walk further on. The gardens are so big I feel like I could spend my entire day exploring them and still discover more. Would he ever trust me enough to be out here alone? I doubt that, especially now that he knows that I know he’s still going to kill me .
And then, all too soon, his hand reaches out, he pulls me back and silently we return inside.
We eat in the hall. With Conrad there.
Unlike the last time, I’m not on my knees, forced to watch. No, this time I’m there, sat almost as an equal, though I’m very much aware of the fact that I’m not—my lack of clothes all but screams it out.
I don’t speak. I keep my eyes down. Trying to use my cutlery in a manner that makes as little noise as physically possible.
Conrad glances at me every now and then, but most of his attention is on his brother. Magnus is listing off what else is needed for some wedding. What final pieces need to be sorted.
Conrad is scowling, his hand clasps his knife like he might just launch himself at Magnus.
The food is fancy. Far fancier than the meals I normally am served. The lamb is so beautifully cooked that it practically melts into your mouth.
While they drink some fancy red wine, I sip my water slowly. There’s a niggling voice in my head telling me to be careful, to behave. The last time we were here, like this, I was laid out and fucked by the pair of them. Though I don’t mind if Magnus treats me so, I don’t want his brother’s hands on me, or any other man’s for that matter.
Am I na?ve to think that perhaps that won’t happen now? Perhaps, after the way he reacted with Antonio, he won’t let anyone else touch me again? God, I hope so.
Magnus’s lips curl as if he knows where my head is at, and that sends a nervous shiver down my spine.
But then Conrad speaks, mutters something that clearly pisses Magnus off enough that he snaps back .
I drop my gaze, worried about where this is headed, an angry Magnus is not a good thing.
“If you’re so determined to have a wedding, why don’t you marry your whore?” Conrad sneers.
My eyes dart to Magnus’s face before I can think not to.
I imagined him to look even more pissed off, but instead he leans back in his seat, picks up his glass and takes a sip as though he really is contemplating it.
“You mean a double wedding?” Magnus murmurs. “You think Giselle would be happy to share the limelight?”
Conrad rolls his eyes, then stabs at a carrot on his plate only it shoots off, sliding in the buttery sauce to the other side.
I gulp as quietly as I can. Oh, I know it’s a tease but somewhere underneath, it is also an insult to me. Whoever this Giselle woman is, she apparently is worthy of marrying one of them while I, I’ll never be more than a slave to this family.
“Would you like that, pet?” Magnus says, turning his attention onto me. “Would you put on a pretty dress for me, promise to honour and obey me for the rest of your days, and become my lawfully wedded wife?”
It’s a joke. I know it is. And yet, I’m still petrified of the old Magnus, the one who would trick me with his words and then hurt me when I couldn’t reply appropriately. My mind seems to lock up. I’m caught by my own paralysis, and I stupidly stare from one brother to the other.
Conrad lets out a laugh almost as cruel as his brother’s .
“You’re confusing her, Magnus,” he says. “Poor thing barely has enough capacity left to do anything but just breathe after what you’ve done...”
“I’m not so stupid as all that.” I hiss and then my eyes widen. Fear takes over. My entire body starts to shake because I’ve done it, I’ve let the old me out. Will there be repercussions to this? Will he return me again to that padded cell?
But I swear Magnus’s eyes sparkle with delight. He takes another sip.
“And here I was worried all those sharp edges were gone for good,” he says in an almost seductive tone.
My skin erupts into goosebumps. My body squirms and it takes everything I have to keep myself still. To keep myself compliant.
“Yes, yes,” Conrad drawls, waiving a knife lazily with his hand. “We all see what a great pet she is. But we’re not talking about your whore, are we? We’re talking about me, about my cursed fiancée…”
Magnus gets to his feet like he’s suddenly outraged. “You’re a grown man,” he spits. “I’m tired of having this conversation with you. I’m tired of wiping your arse, of cleaning up your messes, of carrying you…”
“I can look after myself thank you very much…” Conrad snaps back, slamming his fist onto the table and half the crockery around us jumps.
“This is your last warning.” Magnus continues as if his brother hasn’t even spoken. “Marry Giselle Monclere. Do as your family commands. Or you will no longer be a member of this family.”
“What?”
Magnus draws himself up, and then he’s clicking his fingers, summoning me to his side.
I immediately drop my cutlery, slip from my chair, and move to obey him.
He grasps my wrist in his hand, firm, but not enough to hurt.
“You heard me,” he says to Conrad. “You either marry that woman or you’ll have nothing.”
“You can’t…”
His angry words follow us out of the room.
I half expect him to follow, to chase after Magnus and argue more, but as the door slams shut behind us, an almost reassuring peace lingers in the hallway .
Magnus stares down at me and that strange intimacy we now have, makes me uneasy.
I open my mouth to speak, to want to clarify what I said, to justify it, to explain that I maybe obedient, but I am not a damned walkover either.
But the look on Magnus’s face silences me. He seems far too riled up in this moment to even contemplate such a discussion.
His hand is still firmly gripping my wrist and he starts walking again, picking up speed as if he’s in a hurry to be somewhere.
I expect us to turn left, to head down the corridor and to where our room is but we don’t. Instead, we go right, out through the main gallery and down the grand stone steps onto the veranda.
A cool wind once more sweeps about me. The smell of jasmine fills my nose. I don’t know why we’re back in the gardens, but I’m not complaining. Though I haven’t earned this reward, I’ll welcome it all the same. And besides, it feels like we could both do with some fresh air.
My eyes dart up to look at him and I can see the strain in his eyes.
“You’re angry.” I half-whisper.
His head turns, snapping to look at me. For a second, I think he might just lose his temper, revert back to hurting me, but to my surprise he seems to soften just a little. Those deadly eyes seem to calm a tiny bit.
“It doesn’t matter right now,” he murmurs.
“No?” I persist, though God only knows why.
“No,” he replies before loosening his grip, all but encouraging me to walk on, as if he wants some thinking space.
I take the hint and don’t look back, putting enough distance between us to give him what he wants.
There’s a formal bed of roses ahead and a vast fountain that has water splashing down into a circular, pristine pool of water. I’ve stared at this scene for so long, out past the great glass windows that have always had me locked inside. It feels almost unreal to finally be here, to dip my fingers into the cool wetness and know that this is real.
Once more, my mind flickers to that thought that this is temporary. All of this is. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon Magnus will kill me. Soon, I will be a sacrifice to his bigger dreams, his bigger desires.
A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it. But it’s pointless. All my emotions are pointless, and ruminating over this, it’s just causing more heartbreak than is needed.
Movement to my right catches my attention.
I turn to see where Magnus is, fearful that if I’m now too far, he will be angry with me.
Only a figure is between us. Someone I don’t recognise.
Somehow, I’ve wandered far enough away that I’d have to run to get back to him, but I swear I didn’t take all that many steps.
The figure shouts something. I frown as the words echo in my head. Words I myself have screamed, have prayed, have cried in my darkest, deepest, worst moments.
He raises his arm, pointing something at Magnus and then I am running. I’m screaming. Sprinting. Launching myself at the stranger as I realise what this is. That he’s not one of Magnus’s men. That he’s not security, or a servant, or a friend.
He’s an assassin.
“No,” I scream, throwing my body at him as if it’s a weapon.
I slam into him, my weight causes us both to crash to the floor, and the gun in his hand slips out, falling a few feet away.
He shouts out, he lands a punch to my face and then makes another attempt to get the weapon.
I have to stop this.
I have to stop him.
I scramble for the gun. I scramble to get some control.
He pushes me back and I fight all the harder.
I won’ t let him do this. I can’t let him do this. I have to protect Magnus, I have to protect my Master.
The gun goes off. Both of us are technically holding it, but I groan as that blast of unimaginable pain reverberates through my bones and I stare down, seeing where my blood is already coming out, thick, and warm, and far too damned fast.
I gasp, falling back, sinking onto that cool, soft grass I’ve been dreaming about. The man stares at me in shock and then Magnus is there, grabbing the weapon, taking control.
With one move, he blows the man’s head off and I murmur that that was stupid, that he should have kept him alive to get answers first. How will he know who wants him dead? How will he be able to protect himself?
But I’m suddenly so weary now, so weak. My eyes are so heavy it feels like my lids won’t stay open. This feels so different from the last time I was here, the last time I was dying. There is pain, yes, but this time feels more poignant. This time, my death serves a purpose.
I stare up at Magnus as he moves to scoop me up and my lips turn into a small, sad, smile.
“It, it, it’s okay,” I stammer.
He frowns, clearly not understanding what I mean.
“It’s okay.” I say again, because this is what was meant to happen.
It’s like it all suddenly makes sense.
I always wanted my life to mean something, now I realise it’s not my life, but my death that will.
I’m dying so that Magnus won’t. I’m dying to save him. He’s had ample opportunity to kill me but this way I spare us both that pain. Not only have I saved his life, but now he doesn’t have to take mine.
He doesn’t have to tarnish whatever this thing between us is.
No, now we can both end this in peace.