Chapter 6 #2
My gaze drops to Lysander’s slender fingers, which are tapping against his sword’s bronze handle.
If I know anything about Lysander, it’s that he’s an expert with the weapon.
He treats it like an extension of his arm.
With skills like that, I could have a better chance at defending Haven, if it came down to a fight.
An idea comes to me.
Following my eyes to his sword, a sly smile tugs at Lysander’s lips as he catches on.
“Lysander,” I begin, “do you think you could show me how to wield a sword like you?”
He pulls out his sword again, twirling it in his hand and slicing it through the air with great speed and little effort. Excited, he laughs.
“Why, Avrum, I can do even better than that.”
We stroll into the manor with a new kind of fire burning inside me. My insides tingle with excitement and new purpose. I’m ready to learn all Lysander can teach me about dueling. Then I’ll be able to help Haven get away from Greystone safely. While I…
Well, I’m not sure what I’ll do after, but returning won’t be an option, either. I’ll have to figure out something for myself when the time comes. My main priority now is Haven. Freeing her.
Lysander has offered his daylight hours during his guard to teach me.
Although I’m hesitant to practice inside the manor, he assures me that the only men that would be awake at that time would be the youngest of the guards—novices and humans who barely knew how to pick up a sword correctly, let alone fight with one.
And that he has a special spot where we won’t be found, one he practiced in often.
“So, when you learn all you can from me,” Lysander asks, slowing his pace, “what will you do? Stand against Henri?”
“Not so loud,” I whisper back harshly. “Henri won’t take treason lightly.”
He shrugs, and I wonder why he doesn’t see Henri as much of a threat.
“And that’s why you, out of everyone under his roof, will be the ideal man to do it. You are the closest one to him. You know his weaknesses better than I or anyone else.”
I suppose that’s true. Henri has put a huge amount of trust in me. And now, being his second, I can use the power that brings to my advantage.
“I’m sure that Irish batard was furious he appointed you next in line over him,” he says, talking about Keagan. “He’s been trying to weasel his way into that spot since he got here.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I expected as much.”
As the night goes by, I’m finding more and more about how little I really know.
When we reach the foyer, soft footsteps come from the landing above. We pause at the bottom of the staircase and a second later, Emma’s familiar round face and green eyes appear. She descends the stairs carefully, holding a full tray of china cups and bowls and trying not to teeter over.
“Emma,” I call to her, and hurry up to meet her. “I’m glad I found you.”
Stopping, she stares at me in surprise. “Mr. Brenin?”
I take the tray from her and set it on the landing. “It’s Haven…” Her name feels heavy on my tongue.
Terror flashes across her features. “Is she all right? Sir? Sir! Is she all right?”
“Emma, please.” I try to calm her some, but the panic in her eyes doesn’t lessen.
“Oh no,” she whispers, shaking her head. “He’s killed her, hasn’t he? He’s done it this time, I just know it.”
So, she knows the truth, too? Was I the only one in the dark all this time?
“I-I haven’t seen Haven for about an hour or so,” I say. “She was alive, but very weak then.”
The color in her cheeks only fades more.
“Emma, how long have you known what’s been happening to Haven?”
“I always have. Haven’t you?”
My wobbly legs force me to move down a step. She’d thought I’d known? Did Haven think that, too? Had everyone else labeled me with such cruelty?
“Oh my… You didn’t know, did you?” She glances at Lysander, who’s been watching us from the bottom step. “We always assumed you had known.”
We. She means her and Haven. That confirms it. Haven really thinks that I am capable of something this heinous. She thinks I’m like Henri.
Acid burns the back of my throat and vomit threatens to follow.
“Don’t you see his face?” Lysander’s sharp tone helps my mind focus again. “Of course, he didn’t know.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Emma says, lowering her head in shame. “I did not mean to offend you.”
“No, no need to be sorry, Emma. I just wish I’d found out sooner.”
This is my fault. I’d had so many opportunities to stop it and had missed every one.
“I have to see her.” Emma turns and half-runs up the stairs again.
“Are you sure you’ll be allowed?” I ask.
At the top, she pauses. “Yes, it’s my chore to change the dressings on the lord’s bed.” The muscles in her throat work to swallow, as if she’s trying to suppress a disturbing memory, and I don’t even what to think of what that may be.
“Please, Emma, find me after you see her,” I choke out. “I need to know how she is.”
She gives me a solemn nod. “I will, sir.” Then she rushes down the hall, disappearing from sight.
Haven
There’s a gentle knock on the door, followed by the high-pitched whine of hinges as it opens. My body is heavy. Too heavy to maneuver. Even my eyelids hurt when I open them, but when my vision focuses, I see Emma’s petite frame stepping into the room.
Relief fills me as she hurries to the side of the bed and turns the small knob on the gas lamp above the bed. Gold light floods the dark space, burning my eyes and causing me to squeeze them shut again.
How long have I been asleep? It feels like years, yet not long enough still. Everything hurts, aches, and whenever I breathe, a sharp pain invades my lungs. I wiggle my fingers, which are still bound above my head by rope. They tingle with numbness, but at least there’s some feeling.
Emma places her hand on my right cheek, being careful not to touch the healing cut there. “I was so worried,” she murmurs, her voice trembling. “Oh, thank God you’re alive…”
I try to smile for her, to reassure her, but even my lips hurt.
Then Emma does something shocking. She leans forward, drapes herself over me, and wraps her skinny arms around my middle in a sort of hug. It’s painful and a bit strange, but it warms me to the core. After so much coldness, it’s overwhelming to have someone care about me.
“I came up here as soon as I was told,” she whispers against me, “but the lord’s guards were still watching the door, and I had to wait until they left. I thought Lord Henri had…”
She’s so soft, so small. The amount of love in her touch is enough to make tears come to my eyes, and I wish my hands weren’t still bond so I could squeeze her close.
“Thank you for coming,” I tell her. “I don’t want to be alone. Not now.” My own voice sounds strange to me. Too breathy and weak. I try to swallow, but as the muscles of my throat work, a sharp pain shoots from my shoulder, up my neck to my jaw.
“When Mr. Brenin told me that he found you here, I was sure you were dead. I was sure he finally killed you.”
Goosebumps crawl over my skin at the mention of Avrum.
In the hazy fog that is my memory of the night before, I distinctly remember seeing him here in Henri’s room.
His deep brown eyes looking down at me, his arms wrapped around me, and him pleading with me to wake up.
But then, he’d left the room, left me alone with Henri.
Anger snaps through me. He was here, he saw what Herni had done to me, yet he’d done nothing to help me. He’d walked away.
“He didn’t know, miss,” Emma says, tilting her chin up to study my face. “Mr. Brenin didn’t know about the lord and what’s been happening.” Her green eyes sparkle with innocence. “I saw his face, miss. He didn’t know—”
“I saw his face too,” I bite out. Emma scrambles off me. “I saw his face when he found me lying in the corner there half-naked and practically dead. And again, when he watched Henri’s men tie me to his bed.”
That man deserves no sympathy, especially from me. Even if he hadn’t known, he’d done nothing to help me when finally faced with it. Nothing! He had just left me there to suffer.
“I may be alive now, but I don’t know how much longer I will last,” I say.
“Please don’t talk like that,” she replies. “I hate it when you talk like that.”
“I know you don’t like hearing it, but it’s true. I don’t know how much more I can stand of this.”
Emma covers her mouth with her hands.
“I have to find a way out of here,” I go on, “and I want you to come with me, Emma.”
Like all the times I’d mentioned it before, Emma’s reply is only silence and fear. She stares at me with panic-filled eyes.
“Please, Emma. I’ll have it all planned out before we go. We can leave right before morning and—”
She shakes her head. “No, no, no. I can’t!”
I sigh, and try to change my tone to something gentler. “I’m sorry, dear. I shouldn’t have brought it up again. Forgive me?”
She nods. “Of course, miss. I just get so scared… We can get in great trouble for even thinking such things.”
“I know, I know. It is selfish of me to worry you this way.”
“Is there anything I could get you now that I am here?” she asks, wanting to change the subject. “Some tea, perhaps?”
My eyes lift to my wrists bound above her head. “What I would really like is to get out of these ropes.”
Emma froze. “Oh, miss, I don’t know if I should…”
“You don’t have to,” I say. “I will do it.”
“How?”
My gaze searches the canopy. What I need is something sharp enough to slice through these ropes.
Like a letter opener.
“The connecting door, there,” I say quickly, and jerk my head toward Henri’s adjourning door, “in the study, there should be a silver letter opener on his desk. Get that for me, but be careful.”
Emma stares at me for a moment, unsure. When I give her a reassuring nod, she moves to the door on light feet.
“Be quick and touch nothing but the letter opener,” I whisper, and watch as she presses her ear against the wood of the door, wait a moment before turning the handle, and then push it open. She disappears inside.
I listen in for any sounds, but there’s only silence. A moment later, Emma reappears and closes the door behind her.
“Did you get it?” I ask, excitement bubbling up.
She holds it up so the silver catches the light and flashes.
“Great! Now, put the letter opener in my hands facing down. Make sure the blade is in between my wrists.”
“You could really hurt yourself,” she says. “Do you want me…?”
“I won’t,” I assure her. “I’m more concerned about you cutting yourself.” And besides, I needed to do this. To prove to myself that I could, that Henri hadn’t beaten me yet.
Very carefully, Emma does as I instruct. Gripping the letter opener, I start to cut away at the rope. My hands shake terribly, and it’s a slow and tedious process that strains my weak muscles, but it works. With adrenaline rushing through my veins and hope growing, the many layers of rope splinter.
The room’s door swings open. Emma gasps, leaping away from the bed, and I lose my hold on the letter opener. It falls somewhere behind my wrists.
Lord Henri strolls into the room. His black eyes snap toward us, and his lips curl up in a predatory smile.
“Why are you in here?” The question is meant for Emma. “I didn’t call to have my bedding changed yet.”
The young maid staggers back, her legs hitting the side table. “M-My lord… I…”
Henri closes the space between them in two great strides. With his great height, he towers over her. Emma tries moving farther away, scooting sideways, but she only collides with the wall. That’s where she stays frozen in place, unable to move or speak.
Henri isn’t pleased. His fangs extend as his lips part.
“Answer me!” he commands.
Emma shrieks in terror.
“I called for her,” I blurt out.
Henri’s skeptical gaze flashes to me instead. “And why is that?”
I glance at Emma and then back at him. “I asked one of the guards for tea,” I lie, keeping all emotion from my face. “They sent her.”
“Tea,” he repeats. “You don’t deserve tea. You don’t deserve water.” He slams his fists against the wall, right by Emma’s head, and the lamp on the wall shatters. Glass rains down and she screams at the loud sound.
“Get out,” is all he says to her.
Chest heaving, she looks my way again. Her cheeks are wet and shining from spilled tears, and my heart twists.
Go, I mouth to her. Run…
Without hesitation, Emma slips around Henri and runs out the door.
Henri glances at the broken lamp on the wall and shakes his head in disappointment. Then, he sits beside me on the bed’s edge. Every muscle in my body seizes.
He lays a bony hand just above my knee, and slowly it travels up my thigh while his eyes never wander from mine. Testing me.
I jerk my leg, making his hand fall away, but his expression never changes. Instead, he returns his hand higher on my body. His fingers capture the hem of my dress and continue gliding past my hip, up the curve of my waist…
When he reaches just under my breasts, he pauses, his lips parting, hungry. Before I can question it, two of his fingers dig into the healing wounds on the top of my chest. The ones he made earlier.
The pain is excruciating as he reopens the healing and swollen skin there. Crying out, I squirm under his touch, but he only presses into the gashes harder, turning my whimpers to full-on screams.
“You won’t leave this bed tonight or tomorrow. Do you understand me?” he says, curling his fingers so that his nails dig into the holes.
The muscles underneath my skin twitch as pain ricochets through me. Fresh blood runs down my chest.
A cruel smile twists Henri’s lips.
“I think you understand,” he says as he removes his fingers and rises onto his feet. “You need to heal before I can let you out again. Use this time to think about everything we have talked about.”
Lifting his fingers, he runs his thumb over the crimson blood there as if it was a fine jewel before walking to the door. “You put this on yourself, you know,” he says. “Stop pushing me away.”
Then, he leaves.
The moment the door clicks closed again, I stretch out my fingers and find the letter opener resting on top of my pillow behind my head. I grab it, my mind made. Forget waiting and planning. I’m not staying here a moment longer.
I wish I could bring Emma with me, but after what had just happened with Henri, I doubt she’d agree to come along with me now.
I, though, don’t have a choice.
I work with the blade, taking my time to cut away the rope. One by one, the ties give way and the pressure in my wrists ease. When the last strand breaks, I use the rest of my strength to pull my hands apart and sit up in bed.
Blood rushes to my head, making my vision blur and my temples throb. I take several deep breaths and wait for the dizziness to pass before shifting to the edge of the bed. Every movement has my muscles screaming in protest, but finally, I press my bare feet to the floor and stand.