41. Please, Come
~ GRACE ~
The days that followed our arrival at Breckon’s estate were harrowing. And yet, oddly, boringly predictable. I quickly developed a routine. It was my only guard against the claustrophobic shriek of being locked in my rooms.
In the mornings, I took breakfast alone with four strong men standing one at each corner of the room.
Breckon’s man brought me the herbs and the knife Jade had switched out for my harness blade.
I made a great show of cutting them into lines at north-south, then east-west, and swallowed them with water.
Then I returned to my chambers to dress for riding with the help of a maid.
I rode with the same four men on their animals, bracketing me.
It stole all the joy of being outdoors, but at least they didn’t speak, and allowed me to choose the route. Sometimes, I could look to the hills and mountains beyond them and imagine I rode alone.
On my return to the house, I remained in my riding habit for lunch.
Breckon ignored the muck I tromped into the house with my boots, and the dirt on my cheeks and hands. He spoke politely, as if I were perfectly turned out for a formal lunch—and down to me, as if I were a child.
After lunch, I bathed. Every day. If I were to find a way to escape, I wanted to always be at my cleanest.
After the maids helped me dress again, I was ushered to the library, to sit with the housekeeper at a small, round table, and plan the wedding.
Of course, I was only offered the frivolous choices—lace patterns for the dress, the bodice design, the flowers, the decoration colors, napkins, tablecloths, sweeps of fabric on the pews…
the details were endless. And sickening.
At first, I tried to imagine I planned a wedding to Voski.
But that only made me cold when I thought of selecting all this beauty for him, and meeting Breckon at the altar instead.
So I quickly changed my mind and selected anything I thought would irritate Breckon, or be unflattering to his skin tone.
Our meeting ended, always, two hours before dinner, no matter how little progress we’d made. Then I was escorted to my rooms, to coif my hair and dress for dinner with the help of two maids.
The first day, I’d balked.
“Is there truly need for a full, formal dress, just for dinner with my betrothed?” I’d asked, breathless with unease.
The maids glanced at each other, then grimaced. The braver of the two—not Jade, who I hadn’t yet seen since the first night—offered me a tremulous smile.
“The Lord would like to see how you might present when you host, or accompany him to visit others. It is a test, my Lady.”
I’d rolled my eyes, but neither of them reacted. “Very well…”
Now, it had become a way to be in the presence of women and out from under the eyes of the guards. Whenever I might change clothing, the guards were to be outside.
Each day, I used every moment of those hours with the women to build, friendly connections. They were wary, and at first, I saw little progress. But I was desperate, so I didn’t give up.
Afterwards, I would be marched through the house to the dining room to meet Breckon for a formal, set dinner, and forced to endure very informal questions about anything from my childhood, to my courses.
He’d shocked me the first time when casually asked if I’d begun to bleed, and apparently enjoyed my reaction. Because he smiled. And continued to ask me the same questions each day, though my answers never changed.
I was learning to answer more flippantly, though I still felt my cheeks warm under his avid eyes.
His gaze grew sharper each day.
Then, each night, directly following a lengthy, multi-course dinner, I was either ushered by Breckon himself to the parlor for a short drink, or sent back to my chambers where the maids awaited.
They helped me out of the formal clothes and into a nightgown. Then the guards checked the room from top to bottom, before locking me in again.
Every night, the sound of that bolt shooting home made my skin crawl, and most evenings I spent hours at the window, one palm on the cool glass, letting as much of the dark outside into the room as possible, while I prayed, and pressed my mind out to the ends of my capacity, searching for Voski.
Koa had taken to distracting me, by flying to the edge of my reach and helping me practice until I was exhausted and fell into the bed.
And even if I cried, at least I was so weary, it wasn’t long before I’d wake to start the next morning.
I grew stronger in my mind every day, though I worried my body softened with the lack of activity.
I had used the blade to cut a gap in the pages of a book, burning the excess paper in the fire, and secreting the blade inside.
But I had yet to find a way to carry the blade with me, so it did me little good, merely hidden in my room.
But if Breckon were to show up in the night, it gave me an option.
I’d woken with a start at least once each night when the house creaked, my body certain he was coming for me. So far, he’d kept his hands to himself and hadn’t appeared in my bedchamber once the door was locked each night.
Yet, we were ten days into the three week timeframe Voski had given him. What might he do if I didn’t bleed? Or worse, if I did?
‘Do not worry, sweet Grace.’ Every time fear overtook me, Koa broke in. This time, she showed me how quickly she could punch through the window to retrieve me, spewing flame back into the house the moment she’d pulled me out—if I would only allow it.
I was half-thrilled, half-terrified of her confidence. But there was no doubt, it aided my sleep at night.
I was not alone.
‘Do you hear me, Voski? I’m not alone. But I need you. Please. Please, come.’
And yet, I woke each day not to black hair over dark, intent eyes. But another sunrise behind the hills, and a new horse to ride.
‘Please…’ I sent as I rode.
‘Please…’ I sent, stretching for greater reach, while I scrubbed my arms in the bath.
‘Please!’ I pleaded as the maids dressed me for dinner again, and I spent hours under Breckon’s penetrating gaze.
‘Please, Voski… I love you. I need you. Please, come. I’ll fight. Only… come.’
But still, the night—and my mind—remained silent of his voice.