CHAPTER THREE — The Master’s Shadow
The morning after Talbot’s suspicion and Isaac’s watchful eyes, Magnolia Grove felt different — tighter, as if the air itself had learned to listen. Even the birds seemed quieter, their songs muted beneath the weight of something unseen but approaching.
Antony felt it the moment he stepped outside the cabin. The sky was overcast, a dull gray pressing low over the fields. The wind carried the scent of rain and something else — something metallic, like the taste of fear on the back of the tongue.
Ben joined him, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Storm comin’,” he muttered.
Antony nodded, though he wasn’t thinking about the weather.
He was thinking about Charlotte.
He was thinking about Isaac.
He was thinking about the master.
And he was thinking about the way all three threads were beginning to twist together in a way that could only end in blood.
The workers gathered in the yard, waiting for Talbot’s orders. The overseer sat tall on his horse, his expression sour. But it wasn’t Talbot who made Antony’s stomach twist.
It was the man standing beside him.
Master Edgefield.
Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark vest, he looked like a portrait of Southern gentility — until you saw his eyes. They were pale, cold, and empty, like a man who had carved out his own soul long ago and buried it beneath the magnolia trees.
He surveyed the workers with the casual cruelty of a man inspecting tools.
Antony kept his gaze low.
“Morning,” Master Edgefield drawled. “We got a long day ahead. Storm’s comin,’ and I want every last boll picked before the rain hits.”
Talbot cracked his whip for emphasis.
The workers dispersed into the fields.
But Master Edgefield didn’t move.
He watched them go.
And then his gaze landed on Charlotte.
Antony felt it like a blade pressed to his throat.
Charlotte froze mid-step, her shoulders stiffening. She didn’t look up, but Antony saw the tremor in her hands.
Master Edgefield smiled.
A slow, poisonous smile.
“Charlotte,” he called.
Her breath hitched.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
“Come here.”
Antony’s heart pounded.
Ben grabbed his arm. “Don’t,” he hissed.
Antony didn’t move — but every muscle in his body screamed to.
Charlotte walked toward the master, her steps small and careful. She kept her eyes on the ground, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
Master Edgefield reached out and lifted her chin with two fingers.
Antony’s vision blurred with rage.
“You been keepin’ quiet lately,” the master said softly. “I like that.”
Charlotte swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
“You stay that way,” he murmured. “Quiet. Obedient.”
His thumb brushed her jaw.
Antony’s fists clenched so tightly his nails cut into his palms.
Master Edgefield released her and stepped back. “Get to work.”
Charlotte hurried away, her face pale.
Antony forced himself to breathe.
Ben leaned close. “You gon’ get yourself killed if you keep starin’ like that.”
Antony tore his gaze away. “I ain’t starin’.”
“You starin’ with your whole soul,” Ben muttered. “And folks like him don’t like bein’ stared at.”
Antony knew he was right.
But knowing didn’t make it easier.
The day dragged on, the sky growing darker as the storm approached. The wind picked up, rustling the cotton plants like restless spirits. The workers moved quickly, trying to gather as much as they could before the rain ruined the crop.
Antony worked beside Ben, but his mind was elsewhere.
Every time he looked up, he saw Charlotte.
And every time he saw Charlotte, he saw the master’s hand on her face.
He bent to pick another boll, his jaw tight.
“You ain’t focused,” Ben said quietly.
“I’m fine.”
“You ain’t.”
Antony didn’t respond.
Ben sighed. “Look, I know you care ‘bout her. I do. But you gotta be smart. Master Edgefield… he ain’t like other men. He meaner. He crueler. And he got his eye on her.”
Antony’s stomach twisted. “I know.”
“Then act like it,” Ben snapped. “Before he decide to make an example outta you.”
Antony’s hands stilled.
Ben rarely raised his voice.
That alone told Antony how dangerous things had become.
Near midday, the first drops of rain began to fall. Talbot shouted for the workers to hurry, but the storm was coming fast. Thunder rumbled in the distance, low and threatening.
Charlotte was several rows away, her dress damp, her hair clinging to her neck. She worked quickly, her movements frantic.
Antony couldn’t stop watching her.
He didn’t notice Isaac until the man stepped directly into his row.
“You lookin’ awful hard at her,” Isaac said quietly.
Antony stiffened. “Move.”
Isaac smirked. “Or what? You gon’ hit me? In front of Talbot? In front of Master?”
Antony said nothing.
Isaac stepped closer. “You think Charlotte yours? She ain’t. She belong to Master Edgefield. Always has.”
Antony’s blood ran cold.
Isaac leaned in. “And if you keep sniffin’ round her, he gon’ take her just to prove he can.”
Antony’s vision went red.
Before he could stop himself, he grabbed Isaac by the shirt and slammed him against a tree.
Isaac choked out a laugh. “There he is. The fool.”
Antony’s fist drew back—