33. Ivy
Ivy
Living with Ross wasn’t as bad as living at the Gilded Lily. I wasn’t chained in a basement, and there was no threat of someone coming in to use me as they wished. He’d held up his end of the bargain about not forcing himself on me, and the secret I was carrying in my body was still safe for the time being.
My days were spent wandering the house with my new escort, William. He was either a bodyguard or my prison warden; I wasn’t sure which. I hadn’t tried to escape yet. Not while Rhyker’s life was in Ross’ hands. That didn’t mean I hadn’t marked potential exits and tried to formulate a way to leave.
I read. It seemed like, other than wandering, it was all I did. The pile of books on my bedside table grew daily. It wasn’t anything I was reading for pleasure or to escape. Books on manners, etiquette, and ritual filled my days.
So did my thoughts.
I was worried about the child I was carrying, about what its future would look like—and whether Ross would let it live. I was worried for Rhyker if I didn’t bend to the Order’s will. I was worried about how the men I loved were doing after my sudden departure.
And even though deep inside I wanted them to rescue me, I truly hoped that they didn’t, even if I would give anything to see each of them just one more time. All I wanted for each of them was peace and safety, something none of them had ever experienced.
Something I had once thought I had before it was all ripped from me.
My fingers traced along the walls as I walked in the darkness, William five steps behind. It may have been to give me the appearance of privacy. That was just an illusion, though. I knew I was never truly alone. The pinhole cameras I had spotted in my bedroom ensured that.
“Miss Spencer,” a voice called from behind me. Ross.
I didn’t bother turning around to face him and swallowed roughly before evening out my expression. Even though he wasn’t cruel, he unnerved me. “Do you mean Mrs. Vance?”
His footsteps were heavy as he approached, dismissing my constant shadow. “I think you forget that your marriage to Mr. Vance will be annulled by the end of the month. We’ll follow the Order’s ritual for marriage the week after. I hope you’ve been preparing yourself and reading the material I’ve left you.”
He didn’t touch me, but that wasn’t required for shivers to skitter along my skin. The ritual of marriage for the Princeps was ripped straight from my nightmares. After the bride drank a special drink prepared by the Princeps’ most trusted, she lay on a stone slab. Nothing was detailed after that. I already knew why.
It’s because she was drugged. Again. Something I wasn’t looking forward to. If I was going to be hazy on details, I wanted it to be at my own hand. I scratched at my wrist, wishing for the first time in a while that I had some tea, but I’d accept copious amounts of alcohol or weed. Anything to dull the pain that was spreading in my chest.
But I couldn’t have any of it. Not carrying a child. I really needed a new coping mechanism.
“I noticed you spend your evenings strolling the halls.”
It was a statement I knew he wanted a response to. Even though he stood a foot away, he was watching me. He was observing me like prey, waiting to see what I did. He could see how my breath hitched every time my composure cracked. The way I pressed my nails into my palms and straightened my shoulders. He saw everything.
I gave him a tight smile. “It’s the only place I can go. It’s better than staying locked in my room.” While I strolled, I fantasized about how I could leave. It was something I didn’t mention out loud. I could hit William with a vase with exactly enough force. After that, I’d break away and dart out the front door, disappearing into the grove of trees that were visible from my window. I’d run and keep running.
That was all it was, though—a fantasy. Even if I managed to escape, I couldn’t return to the guys. I had no money. How would I raise a baby with only the clothes on my back? Even those weren’t my own, the fabric clawing at my skin.
And if I left, they’d kill Rhyker. I couldn’t stomach the fact that I would be responsible for yet another death of someone who had surrounded me. I couldn’t do that to Ros.
“Mmm. Well, considering I can’t trust you yet, it’s the only place I feel comfortable for you to roam.” Like I’d thought, I’d been transferred to yet another gilded cage. The house, with its rooms, art, and sculptures, was just a pretty prison. Without meaning to, my shoulders slumped. “Though perhaps you’d be interested in a gift. Something to make your time more enjoyable.”
He held out his hand in offering, and with shaking muscles, I managed to accept it, placing my fingers on his. My heart hammered in my chest, warning me that every time the Order had given me anything, it was something bad. Visions danced behind my eyes, thinking it would be something like Cam’s heart in a jar. Or his actual final resting place. I didn’t know Ross, but I knew all about the cruelty of the Order.
I nearly broke in front of him as my feet shuffled beside him, and my breath halted in my lungs. He led me down a set of stairs off a back hallway, our only company the shadows. The stairs were nearly enough to make me collapse. He was going to trap me in the basement. I should have just married Wells. The devil you know…
He flicked on a light and flung open a door. It was nothing like I had expected. Floor to ceiling was covered in massive bookshelves. A fireplace sat across the room, and beside it, two chairs upholstered in hunter green. “This is my wedding gift to you. If I trusted you, I’d also give you the gardens, but there is still time. Perhaps one day you’ll accept our arrangement. In the meantime, you’ll have a thousand adventures and a million love stories.”
He let go of my hand and turned on his heel. The door closed behind me, and the lock snapped into place. I fell to my knees, not caring if he could see me through a hidden camera. I wasn’t chained. I was still safe, at least for the time being. My breathing and heart rate evened out as I pulled myself together and stared at each of the shelves.
Some of them were ancient, but others were new. I recognized the titles. Somehow, I staggered to my feet and over to the shelf, plucking a book from its place and clutching it to my chest.
Ross wasn’t cruel—at least he hadn’t been yet—but he had orchestrated everything. He was the reason I was trapped, Cam was dead, and Rhyker was lying unconscious in the basement.
And yet, in that one moment, I was grateful. It wasn’t another book about antiquated rituals or appropriate social behavior. It wasn’t yet another stiff outfit that cost more money than most cars around Clearhaven. It wasn’t a useless piece of jewelry. He’d given me a way to escape, something I desperately wanted. It was a way to pretend that, for a little while, my life wasn’t my own.
It was a way to pretend that I was still surrounded by people who loved me. It was a way to ignore the fact that my heart would never be whole again.
And for that singular moment, it had to be enough. I curled up on the carpet, my back against the wooden shelf, and pulled my knees to my chest as I opened the book to page one. I should have been plotting how to pick the lock or how to scale the garden wall outside. Instead, I lost myself in a tale of love. One where the female and male lead hated each other because of a terrible misunderstanding.
A tear rolled down my cheek, and I rubbed at it. I was a masochist, punishing myself, reliving the story of my life. Reliving my trauma through the pages in front of me. That didn’t stop me from pushing through and holding on to each word like my life depended on it. It didn’t stop me from imagining what my life would have been like if only things were different.