9. Belle
Belle
The wound mends unsurprisingly fast, but unlike when I’ve been injured in the past, I’m acutely aware of my unnatural healing abilities.
As I watch the skin connect across the valley of red, I wish I could feel more pain, revel in the care of my injured body.
I spend a day dressing and cleaning the cut, refusing to let the maids help me.
The next morning, I woke to a perfectly mended arm.
As I glance around my room, the day before me, I realize the only thing I can worry about now is my escape—a much more difficult fix.
My healing also reveals another terror—the Pans could brutalize me much more than they could an average woman, and I’d still survive to carry their heir.
Pan said I couldn’t hurt myself. I’ve tested it, attempting to cut myself, and it seems to be true. Suicide was never an option for me in the past, but now that the idea is taken away from me, I suffocate under the weight of living.
I must test every theory of the Darling, and one still leaves a question mark. Would it let me starve myself?
I’ve always been stubborn, and any hope that the Pans can be reasoned with is out the window. Both brothers are sick in their own fucked-up ways. I won’t let them be the holders of my fate.
I go three days without eating. The maids fill my room with flaky pastries and swollen fruits, but I only bite the inside of my mouth, letting the pain and blood curb my hunger.
On the fourth day, I push a dresser against my door, a real physical feat when you’re starving.
It does the trick, though. The staff pounds against the barrier but can’t make their way inside.
I’m re-energized by accomplishing something. Except that something is only successfully starving myself, and after a few hours, I transform into a human ball at the foot of my bed and cry, rattling my empty stomach.
In my cocoon of sorrow, I wonder why the Pans haven’t barged in to claim me.
Surely the measly dresser wouldn’t be enough to deter them, especially the hooked one.
I doubt it’s actually even an impossibility for the staff—they just don’t want to exert the extra energy to serve me food I’ll refuse to consume.
Pan didn’t mention boundary lines for my taking, at least not when I was present.
It would be silly to prohibit them from breaking into my room.
It makes sense for Peter. He didn’t seem interested in claiming my womb—only cruel and eager to watch his brother gobble me whole.
Rourke should have sliced me up in more ways than just my forearm.
I have no idea why he chose to let me go, or why he hasn’t returned.
I surmise it’s to toy with my emotions, tenderize me with fear.
It’s working. I can only hope my starvation gives me a bitter taste when he’s decided he’s ready to bite.
Pitter-patters dance across my floor. I’m sure I’m delirious from the hunger, but when a fuzzy being nudges against me, I open my swollen eyes.
“Weasel!” I exclaim, pulling the raccoon into my arms. He allows me to squeeze him.
The intended insult I threw days before seems like the perfect name for him.
I pull him back. “Wait. You’re a traitor!
You left me alone with that monster to fend for myself. ”
He spits something out between my legs, and I place him down to retrieve it. I knock the brown circle against the ground, and it rattles. I lean down, eye level with Weasel. “Is this a nut of some kind?”
He nods.
I laugh. How cute, but then I wonder if this gift might have even more thought behind it. “Do you want me to eat this?”
He nods again, pushing my hand holding the nut closer to me.
“That’s sweet of you, but I can’t eat. It’s the only choice I have in this place.” My voice shakes around sorrow, hunger, and isolation—all of it winning the war with my spite.
A voice calls across the room, “Starving yourself is a stupid choice to make.”
I startle and stare up at Rosalia treading toward me. “How did you get in here?”
She points to a wall at the far side of the dressing room behind her. “Secret passageway.”
I jump to my feet. “Secret passageway?!”
“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s just for the servants to navigate Hollowbrook without getting in the way. There’s no escape through there.”
I heave back to the floor, on the brink of tears.
She looks down at me, arms crossed over her pale pink dress. “There’s no point in starving. The Darling won’t let you kill yourself. Believe me.”
Her statement rattles me two-fold. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll feel all the sensations of starvation, of your body shutting down, but the magic will keep you alive.”
The thought shakes me, terrifying me more than the prospect of being forced to carry children. I jump to my feet. “You’re lying!”
“I’m not.”
“I can’t trust you! You could be as evil as the rest of them.”
She steps closer, anger in her eyes as she yanks the black metal collar around her neck. “Do you think I wear this for fashion? Do you think any of the staff does? I’m a prisoner, same as you.”
I soften, examining her. “Don’t they have enough money to employ staff? Why do they need to trap you?”
“It’s not just us who are confined to the Darlings; half of Neverhaven wears them.”
“Why?”
She gives a humorless laugh. “You must come from a just world if you have to ask.”
“Um, no, not really.”
“Money can’t always buy loyalty, especially when the ruler wants to hoard his wealth to himself.”
“Oh.” It makes me feel a little less isolated in my capture, but I don’t see anyone else in the castle sentenced to a forced pregnancy. I doubt anyone would want to trade places with me.
“And no one in all of Neverhaven has found a way to get out of these things?” Despite my recent acceptance of defeat, my starvation as my last-ditch effort for pride, I can’t help but still hope for an escape.
She shakes her head. “The only people who can remove the Darlings are the ones who put them on.” She looks around the room and steps closer, speaking low.
“The Darlings are controlled by blood magic. I’ve heard rumors of rebel Alchemists working to use the blood magic against them, but the groups are extinguished before they even catch flame. ”
She means the secret to sound hopeless, but I can’t help but let the morsel rekindle my plight for freedom.
I may be wearing a Darling, but magic runs through my veins.
Perhaps if I discovered how, I could be the one to break the spell of these cruel instruments of repression.
I don’t reveal my thoughts. Rosalia seems nice enough, someone on the same team, but I don’t trust her enough to make her an accomplice in my newly thought-up scheme.
“So that’s it then? I just accept my fate and let the Pans have their way with me because half of the kingdom is trapped as well? ”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So why are you here then? Just let me starve!” I fall to the ground. I’m pathetic, but I’m too hungry and desperate for rationality, despite my recent bubble of hope.
She grabs my arm, heaving me up and meeting her icy stare with mine. “You are not as helpless as you think. I don’t know how it is in your world, but in Neverhaven, a pair of nice tits and a tight arse can grant you a lot of privilege.”
I stare at her, mouth wide, but then let my expression shift into a smirk. “So you think I have a nice ass?”
“By the Second Star, you’re a piece of work.” She drops my arm, and I fall to the floor. I laugh, the strange feeling bringing life back to me.
“So what? You’re telling me I should seduce the brutes already tasked to rape me? Yeah, that will work.”
“Seduction is a fine art, much more than just insinuating sex.”
“Okay, and you mean…”
She sighs.“The Pan boys are desperate for attention, both of them missing a mother in their own way.”
“So you want me to mother them? But they’re deranged!"
“Yes, they have their faults.”
“Rourke nearly chopped my arm off the other day after feeling me up. Faults is an understatement.” My skin heats with my guilt, the memory of my body’s reaction to his invasive touch filling me with embarrassment, even if no one but me knows.
She grabs my arm, inspecting the nearly completely healed mark. “You’re a pixie. You heal. It’s what you do. If anything, it should give you more confidence.”
I snatch back my appendage. “My healing seems to be doing nothing but hurting me. You just told me I could turn into a living zombie if I try to starve myself.”
“Zombie?”
“Forget it.” I turn away from her and kneel to pick up Weasel. He rolls over in my arms, and I scratch his belly. Goddamn it, he’s cute. I can’t help but smile.
I think the conversation is done when I don’t hear Rosalia after a few moments, but then she pops next to me, her breath at my ear. “I never thought of holding one of those creatures.” She stands next to me, looking over my shoulder with a smile.
“Really? But they’re so cute and cuddly.”
She goes to pet his fur, but he snaps at her hand. “To you maybe, but I’ve never seen someone get close to a raccoon without witnessing their rage.”
“Hm, I guess we’re similar then. People usually say the same thing about me.”
“You? No. You seem like an absolute delight.”
I smack my lips. “Hey!” A mischievous smile warms her face. “I’ll have you know, I’m much more bearable outside of a gilded cage and with food in my stomach.”
“Aren’t we all.” She sighs, staring ahead at nothing. “But, I can help you with one of your problems.”
“Oh, yeah. And what’s that?”
“I can get you dressed for dinner tonight.”
My hollow stomach makes an attempt to growl at her words, but I can’t even muster the energy. “Why would I agree to that?”
“You need to humanize yourself. If you act like a scared animal, they’ll treat you like one.” She grabs my shoulder, staring me down. “Don’t lose your spark. That’s what they want.”