Chapter Six
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Ily
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I SPENT THE DAY STARING OUT the window.
I’d traded company in the dark for aloneness in the light, and the only thing keeping me sane was the sunshine. It became my only friend as it crept across the horizon, casting shadows on the animal-shaped hedges below, illuminating Masters tormenting their jewels in the garden.
From my height in the castle, I spied new jewels and old. I witnessed poor Mollie being raped by Roland by the fountain. His pudgy mass crushed hers into the granite of the water feature, his hand on the back of her head pushing her underwater with every thrust.
I spied a few new jewels being electrocuted for not obeying their Master’s whims fast enough, and Kirk refusing to do a damn thing his current ruler requested.
No matter how hard the bastard beat him, the jewel who’d watched Suri—the girl he was in love with—shot to death during Emerald Bruises just took it.
He looked as if he wanted to die. As if he gave the Master permission to end him with every strike.
Peter had warned us that Kirk had given up.
It looked as if he was right.
Tears rolled silently down my cheeks as afternoon turned to dusk, and the fairy lights flickered on in the flowers.
The battlement walls lit up with purple, gold, and blue spotlights.
The pond-shaped swimming pool where Henri liked to write gleamed with the final shards of orange and red from the sun before night fell completely.
And still no one came for me.
I’d tried to leave.
I’d tried banging on the walls in case Henri or Peter could hear me.
But locks and guards and heavy stone bricks kept me trapped.
Rubbing my empty, snarling stomach, I hunched where I sat on the window seat. I’d wrapped myself up in the white blanket from the bed, warm for the first time in weeks, but the constant gnawing in my middle wouldn’t leave me alone.
Judging by how insistently my body demanded food, it’d been over twenty-four hours since our last rations. And our rations could hardly be called food. Our diet in the dungeon had consisted of stale bread, tough meat, and a few overly cooked vegetables if we were lucky.
No matter how incredible the hot shower had been or the full hour I’d spent sitting beneath its warm rain, I would’ve traded that luxury for a decent meal.
Dirt and filth robbed every drop of self-worth, but hunger? God, that had the capacity to steal every ounce of willpower. If Victor starved us for much longer, I truly didn’t know how far we’d go or what we’d put up with if it promised an end to the pain in our bellies.
Strings of soft music wriggled their way through the windowpanes as stars pricked the velvet sky above.
The sounds of masculine laughter down in the gardens as men gathered on the deck and smoked and drank hinted May and the cooks in the kitchen would be hard at work making dinner for everyone.
Faiza and her cleaners would’ve had a busy day tending to the many chambers, and the gardeners, handymen, and other staff would’ve endured yet another day of no freedom.
I sighed and rested my head on the cool glass.
Five months ago, I’d arrived with such na?ve beliefs that I could free the poor men and women imprisoned here. I clung with such conviction to the power of right over wrong.
Yet sitting there in silence, a little whisper in my weary heart said perhaps this tale didn’t have a happy ending after all.
Maybe we would never get free. Perhaps Victor would break Henri, which, in turn, would break me.
We’d both die a painful death, and Peter and the jewels would remain forever trapped.
They’d go on serving until they ended up on the altar and their pieces sold to the highest bidder.
No one would know that this island or these monsters existed.
The world would continue spinning. People would continue bickering and moaning, catching public transport, and snuggling on the couch after work.
All while hell existed for those unlucky enough to have been trafficked into it.
Stop.
Just...stop.
These thoughts aren’t helping.
You will get out.
Don’t lose hope...not yet.
Peter’s voice echoed in my ears from when I’d watched the guards strap Henri onto the altar in the Temple of Facets.
“Not yet, jaanu...not yet.”
I still didn’t know what he meant or when not yet would be.
But...not yet.
I wouldn’t give up.
Not yet.
A particularly bright star glimmered above, twinkling in its freedom. It looked like one of the stars I regularly visited in my meditations.
I found comfort in its brightness.
A tiny pinprick of light in a cloak of black.
All it took was one.
Just a single dot of light to break the oppressiveness of the night.
Pressing my fingertips to the glass, I stared at that glittering diamond in the sky and made a wish like I used to when I was a child.
I closed my eyes.
I found that centre of calm and begged someone to hear me.
“Please...come for us. We can’t do this on our own. We tried. We failed. If you’re out there...please hurry—”
The door swung wide, cutting off my prayer and wrenching my eyes open.
“Time to go, little jewel.” The guard who’d shoved me into the bedroom waved his arm toward the corridor. “Quickly now.”
I’d contemplated asking him if he was one of Stewart and Ben’s friends. I’d stared into his eyes, doing my best to see if he played two roles. But I hadn’t dared ask. Not because he might tattle on me but because the cameras certainly would.
If he was on our side, it didn’t matter.
There weren’t enough on our side, and as long as it remained an unwinnable fight, no one would stand up against Victor because everyone had seen what happened to Henri.
A Master turned slave.
Yet another jewel at the whim of Victor’s monstrous mercy.
“Get. Now.” The guard snapped his fingers, his brown hair spiked with gel.
Standing on hunger-shaky legs, I left my blanket behind and padded barefoot toward him. I’d found a single piece of clothing on the bed after my shower and chose to wear it instead of letting pride keep me bare.
The guard’s dark gaze raked over me. He grinned. “That colour suits you.”
Smoothing down the tightest, slinkiest silver teddy, I held my chin high even as my nipples pebbled the satin and cool air licked between my naked legs.
Victor had dressed me in silver.
Dressed me like the star I’d just wished upon.
It was up to me to continue glowing...for just a little longer.
* * * * *
I tripped as the guard marched me into the ballroom.
I would’ve fallen flat on my face if he hadn’t grabbed my elbow and kept me standing. “This way,” he muttered.
My heart switched from skittering with weakness to galloping with fear.
Henri.
God...no.
I struggled as the guard yanked me toward the stage where Peter already stood in fresh linen trousers. His ribs cut into his now clean chest, his hands balled at his sides, his golden collar leashed to the podium.
He gave me a sad shake of his head as the guard secured my collar to a matching cord, tethering me to the other corner of the stage.
All around us, Masters chuckled and sipped expensive drinks.
Jewels kneeled on the dance floor and the energy of terror and indulgence wafted thicker than the scents of butter and tarragon.
But I only had eyes for Henri.
He stood in the centre of the stage, shackled to a maypole like the one where he’d taken me the first time after he bid and won Victor’s twisted auction.
His cuffed wrists locked above his head, his neck held in place by a chain hooked to his collar, his bare body so lean and bruised, so stretched and on display.
Tears strangled my throat, but I refused to let them fall.
Our eyes met.
He gave me a smile as if nothing was wrong. As if he was dressed in a fine suit and sitting down with the other men instead of spread and bound for their pleasure.
Don’t watch. He narrowed his eyes. Promise me.
I’m with you. I shook my head. I’m not going anywhere.
He sighed and dropped his chin.
The huge bruise on his side glowed a burgundy red beneath the spotlights on the stage. His cock flaccid and far too vulnerable as Masters leaned back and remarked on the delicious dinner being placed in front of them by waitstaff.
Victor chuckled as I found him in the crowd.
Sitting at the table closest to the stage, he raised his tumbler of liquor in my direction.
“Good evening, Ilyana. I trust you had a relaxing afternoon? I must say, that lingerie certainly shows off your curves.” His nose wrinkled.
“Unfortunately, those curves have shrunk since the last time you were in this ballroom but...no matter.”
Passing Rachel a plate delivered by a downcast serving girl, he smirked. “Rachel, on the other hand, is rounding out quite nicely. Don’t you agree?” He stroked her growing belly with a doting look in his blue eyes. “See how well I look after those who please me, sweetling?”
I wanted so much to spit at him. Curse him. Scream at him.
But...with Henri strapped on the pole, I wouldn’t give Victor any reason to snap. If he hurt Henri because I opened my stupid mouth...I’d never forgive myself.
Victor huffed as if annoyed at my silence.
Rachel gave me a tragic look. She opened her lips as if she wanted to say something, but I widened my eyes and shook my head.
Sighing heavily, she dropped her gaze to her food and picked reluctantly at a perfectly cooked chicken breast.
I almost keeled over with starvation. My mouth flooded with saliva. Every cell in my body demanded to be fed.
The discomfort was so crippling, I almost moaned.
Tearing my eyes away, I focused on everything but the Masters tucking into their dinners and the lucky jewels accepting tidbits off their owners’ fingers.
Classical music kept playing.
The night remained sedate and serene.
No one came to torment us. No one tortured Henri.
I glanced at Peter. What’s going on?
I didn’t know if he’d get my silent message, but he shrugged.