Chapter 6 #3
Ignoring all rules of propriety, she smacked his cheek.
The duke weathered the hit and grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip.
She struggled, but he held firm with surprising strength for his age.
She tried to bang her head against the duke’s forehead or step on his foot, but he anticipated both, moving his feet where she could not reach them.
She tried to scratch at him with her nails, and he pinned her arms to the wall.
This was clearly not the first time Duke Howard had accosted a lady in private—an unsettling realization.
She opened her mouth to scream, and Duke Howard shook his head, “If you scream, if you shout, I will tell everyone that you gave yourself to me willingly tonight, and there will never be a chance of you finding another husband, there will be no amount of riches that will wipe the stain from your family name.”
In the split second it took her to figure out what to do, he leaned in and sniffed audibly, smelling her neck.
“A nice perfume,” Duke Howard said. His nose grazed her neck, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. A hand grazed her thigh, and she twisted free and slapped him again, her palm connecting loudly with his cheek, his jowl jostling from the impact.
Duke Howard’s expression darkened. “I will make you pay for that, dearest betrothed.”
Her nails scrabbled at his arms, his face, anything she could reach before he clenched his fingers around her wrist and imprisoned both once again.
She took a step towards the door and the grip on her wrists turned painful.
“Your Grace, let us return to the party. I would like to leave,” she said, her voice changing from firm to pleading.
She pleaded to whatever gods were listening to get her out of this mess. To send her father or her mother to check on her. For Charlotte to come find her, for anyone to sense that she was in distress.
But no one came.
She tried to wrench herself free, but to no avail.
He kneed between her legs, to try and pry them open. Panic gripped her senses, her terror freezing her in place.
Her temples started pounding.
Duke Howard smiled over her, seeming to enjoy her look of absolute terror. He licked her cheek, his tongue wet and slobbery, the act purely to show her that he could.
“Please … please, your Grace.” She screwed up her eyes and looked away. Her heart pounded in her chest and the pressure in her skull grew nearly unbearable.
Her last hope crumbled and broke.
Duke Howard leered above her with an awful smile as he realized the same thing she had. They were well and truly alone, and no one would breathe a word of what happened here. No one would believe her, even if she did tell someone; Duke Howard was well regarded by all.
Her headache intensified, her temples aching sharply. She ignored it, and stared at the ceiling, beseeching any gods that were listening to do something, anything to get her out of this mess. A knee rubbed against the front of her thigh, and she wanted to cry.
Suddenly, a deep voice said from across the room, “I would step away if I were you.”
Inexplicably, the demon was here.
“Leave us,” the duke snarled over his shoulder.
She didn’t know whether to be grateful that her prayers had been answered or frightened at how illogical it was that he was here. Had he been following her? How would he have gotten here in a few seconds if he hadn’t been there the whole time? And how had she not seen him at the ball?
The duke gripped her tighter, jerking her back to the present. “I said, leave us.”
Suddenly she didn’t care if he had been following her.
But the demon did nothing. He looked, in fact, to be paused on the threshold waiting for something.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please.” Please help me. I’ll give you whatever you ask if you just get me out of here.
“I think I’ll stay, actually,” he said coolly. She glanced at the demon—her unexpected saviour—he met her gaze, and for a heartbeat, there was a gleam of triumph in his eyes, but it was gone a moment later.
The duke whirled on him, releasing her. “This does not concern you.”
Elizabeth took her chance at freedom and quickly distanced herself from the duke. Grimacing, she brushed where his hands had been as if brushing off lint, trying to remove the phantom memory of his hands touching where she had not invited him to touch.
Caspian prowled closer, and the room’s temperature dropped even further. The demon towered over the duke with nothing but wrath in his eyes. The silver flames in his gaze burned brighter, and his entire body seemed to glow and pulse with dark power.
He muttered a word she couldn’t make out and stretched out his hand towards Duke Howard.
Dark flames spewed from the demon’s outstretched palm, sweeping the duke off his feet and throwing him against a wall.
The dark flames licked around his throat, holding the duke against the wall.
The duke gasped, his hands clawing at the black flames holding him in place.
The demon prowled closer to the duke with his palm outstretched, his magic unyielding.
“Demon,” the duke spluttered. “I will have you burned alive for this, boy!”
“I am not of this world, mortal.” Caspian’s voice was cold.
Duke Howard’s face turned purple. His features contorted as he croaked for air, one hand reaching for the demon to stop his magic. Caspian closed his fist, extinguishing the black flames.
The duke fell to the floor in a heap, gulping in as much air as his lungs could.
Caspian stepped towards the door.
Elizabeth stood between two evils, unsure of what to do.
Her feet seemed to decide for her, edging closer to the demon.
Realizing Caspian would not be so easily intimidated, the duke pointed a menacing finger at her. “You will pay for this, wench!” he spat. “I will not be humiliated by the likes of you and this—this creature.”
Elizabeth took a moment to compose herself, and now that her fingers were touching the door jamb and escape was in her grasp, she smiled pleasantly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dearest betrothed.
I said, and did, nothing. Perhaps you should have a goblet of wine and retire by the window.
It’s a beautiful night,” she said in an attempt to tactfully allow the duke to save face.
The duke stood and opened his mouth to speak, but she did not wait to hear it, and strode away.
The sound of her heels ricocheted off cream-coloured stone walls as she hurried toward the gardens.
The gardens behind the manor were filled with more rose bushes.
Up ahead, a rose had wilted, leaving deep red petals strewn across the white stone pathway, looking for all the world like a trail of blood.
She walked faster.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind her, and she whirled around, her heart in her throat.
It was the demon.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, relaxing a fraction.
She walked briskly, wanting to get as far away from Howard Manor as physically possible without leaving the property. The demon skulked behind her the whole while, saying nothing.
She wanted to bathe and scrub off every inch of skin that the duke had touched. She lifted a hand to her cheek, as if she could wipe the memory of his vile tongue away. A chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
Seeing a bench, she sat down heavily, and put her head in her hands. She took deep, shaky breaths and stared at the ground.
A pair of black boots entered her vision.
“Are you all right?” The demon’s words were gruffer than kind, but she appreciated them all the same. She glanced upwards, into his otherworldly gaze.
She steadied herself and swallowed. “Yes.”
Caspian offered her a hand, but she refused it, choosing to stand up on her own and crossing her arms over her chest. Without a word, they walked in the gardens side by side. Caspian stayed solemn and quiet, as if he understood her need for distance.
The cool night breeze whispered across her skin as they walked among the roses. Moonlight silvered the path beneath their feet, and the distant sounds of the ball—laughter and music—seemed to belong to another world entirely. Silence stretched between them.
She walked ahead, stopping in front of a large statue of the Sun God. The gods had created this beautiful land, and were supposed to be taking care of its people.
She tightened her arms over her chest. If the gods were real, they were cruel.
When Elizabeth and the demon had completed the circuit of the gardens twice, he stopped, his eyes searching hers, as if looking for the truth of the thoughts that were running through her mind.
She averted her eyes, not knowing what to say, her fingers absently massaging her wrist.
“You cannot think of binding yourself to such a man,” Caspian said.
Her eyes burned.
She was silent for a long while. Finally she asked, “And what would you have me do?”