Chapter 7
New Beginnings
The demon waited for her while she penned a letter and slipped it under her parents’ door. Caspian looked pleased, and led her to his carriage, an onyx masterpiece of black velvet and ebony.
Instead of opening the door, he turned to face her, a contract suddenly appearing between his fingers. “Before we continue,” he said smoothly, holding the contract out for her to sign.
She eyed it warily. “I don’t have a quill, or any ink.”
He handed her the contract and procured a small inkpot and quill from a pocket inside his cloak.
She stammered, “I—May I have a chance to read it over again before I sign?”
“Certainly.” His words were honey sweet.
She skimmed the contract, her fingers tensing on the parchment.
The wording remained frustratingly vague, but the terms were clear enough: in exchange for spiriting her away from this nightmare, she would give him blood once a week for three months.
Her blood, freely given, to a demon. The thought made her stomach twist, yet compared to Duke Howard’s wandering hands …
she swallowed hard. The contract promised Caspian would not hurt her during her time with him, and when it was over, he would give her enough gold for her to make her way in this world.
Freedom, at the cost of her blood.
A few weeks ago, she would have laughed at the proposition. Now, she stared at the signature line.
She re-read the sum he would give her at the end, and her fingers trembled on the parchment. It would be enough to buy herself a small home somewhere and never have to come crawling back to her father.
It seemed too good to be true, and she wondered why he would offer so much only to gain so little. Her eyes skimmed the page a second time, looking for the trick, but she found no cause for alarm.
She held the parchment against the side of the carriage, and he handed her the quill, freshly dipped in ink. She signed at the bottom with an elegant, loopy signature. As soon as she finished, he snatched the parchment out of her hands and rolled it up, tucking it back into his cloak.
“Excellent.” She watched his eyes glow and his expression turn victorious.
She hesitated, a wave of apprehension coming over her. What had she just done?
Caspian stood on the step of the carriage and looked back at her, raising his brows. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
She paused and looked at the sweeping gardens and beautiful manor, the incredibly wealthy duchy that she could live in if she wanted. Her life would be easy here; she would truly want for nothing if she stayed.
“Nothing. I’m waiting for nothing.” Squaring her shoulders, she took his hand and stepped into the carriage without looking back.
In the carriage, he sat across from her and seemed content to look out the window as the wheels of the carriage began to move.
Suddenly feeling self-conscious at being so near him in an enclosed space, she pulled up her gown in an effort to cover her cleavage. The gown might as well have been made of iron—it hardly moved an inch.
Caspian noticed this, and rolled his eyes.
He rose from his seat, crouched in the carriage and lifted the bench he had been sitting on to reveal the compartment underneath.
He drew out a black velvet cloak identical to his own, secured with a silver clasp.
He wordlessly tossed it to her, and she draped it around her shoulders, clasping it at her front to cover herself.
Immediately, she felt more comfortable. “Thank you, that was—that was kind of you.”
Caspian sat across from her once more, unnaturally still, and chose not to answer.
As the last red rose of Howard Manor passed out of sight, Caspian turned to her and said, “Would you prefer to pass the journey in conversation or sit in silence?”
She thought about it for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek. She was bursting with questions, but didn’t want to pester him or seem rude. He had offered to talk though. So she said, “I would like to make conversation to pass the time.”
“I see,” Caspian sighed and rubbed a hand over his beard. “You’ll have to help me come up with a topic then. Small talk does not come easily to me. Perhaps you would tell me more about yourself?”
“What would you like to know?” she asked, amusement playing about her lips.
Caspian crossed a leg over his knee and asked, “If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”
She considered the question. “I would travel and make a life for myself somewhere.”
“No quest for money or power?”
“I have grown up with power and wealth. It did not help me today. I think travelling and memories would be worth more than money to me.”
Irritation flashed across his face, but it was gone in a heartbeat and his face became impassive once more.
“And you? If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”
“Vengeance.” His words were so casual, she was sure that he must be kidding. She furrowed her brow, wanting to ask more, but he cut her off before she could speak. “If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?”
The silver flames that flickered in his eyes were very distracting. It felt like his eyes were piercing her soul every time he looked at her. “Sorry, what did you ask?” A blush rose to her cheeks as she realized he had asked her something.
He repeated the question.
She thought about it for a second. “Hmm … If I could travel anywhere, I think I would go to the City of Scholars. It sounds like an interesting place to visit.”
“The City? An odd choice for a lady’s travels. What have you heard about the City of Scholars?” His tone was derisive.
“I know a fair bit about it,” she said coolly. “My parents made sure I had lessons on all the major kingdoms outside our borders.”
Upon seeing his skeptical expression, she added earnestly, “I know the City of Scholars is found in the heart of The Winterlands, and it is said that because their kingdom has no wheat or wine, their trade is in knowledge instead. All the greatest scholars and advisors in Asteria are said to have studied there.” She smiled broadly.
“I heard that they have a library the size of a city, if you can believe it.”
“Is that what you’ve heard?” He glanced at her. “Why does it intrigue you so? More than the deserts of Israr, the mountains and forests of Arboras, or the old cities of Faina? The Winterlands are covered in snow year-round. It is absolutely miserable. I can’t see you enjoying it.”
“Oh, but think about it—a library the size of a city! I think I would die of happiness. Plus, my father spent some time there in his youth and spoke highly about it.”
“Do you get cold easily?” He raised a brow.
“I do but … but I’m sure I’d manage,” she said stubbornly, standing her ground.
“It is pretty, but in a harsh way,” he amended.
“You've been there?” she asked breathlessly. Having never left Rhodea, she always loved hearing stories about people travelling to far off reaches of Asteria, as if she could live through their experiences.
“Yes. My last trip there was not particularly pleasant, though.” Seeing her rapt expression, he seemed to struggle to say something nice about the place and added. “The library is nice; I’ll give them that.”
She leaned forward and asked, “Why was your trip not pleasant?”
His eyes darkened and he was quiet for a moment. “Snowstorms,” he finally said, and she had the sense that he wasn't being entirely truthful with her.
He didn’t say anything further, so they drifted into a comfortable silence while she looked out the window.
The landscape was nearly black under the night sky, with fields of large, white flowers that appeared almost blue in the moonlight.
In the distance, the sea was dark, only made visible by the shine of the moonlight upon the waves.
She listened to the soft sounds of the waves cresting against the shore and the rustling of the wind through the fields.
As time passed, she felt her eyes begin to close, and she struggled to stay awake.
She yawned and covered her mouth with her hand.
“I will leave you to get some rest,” the demon murmured.
“What do you mean? It’s your carriage,” she said, covering another yawn. “I’m not that tired.”
“There are blankets under the seat,” Caspian said bossily before rapping sharply on the door. The carriage slowed, and once it ground to a halt, he stepped outside. From the sound of footsteps, she assumed that he had gone to sit up front.
She was left alone, feeling somewhat vexed at his commanding tone. She did not appreciate being ordered about as though she were a servant. As another yawn escaped her lips, however, she had to concede her weariness.
Under the seats, she found a few blankets made of thick gray fur. She didn’t know what animal it had come from, but it was incredibly soft. Elizabeth nestled herself into the corner of the carriage and felt her eyes start to close.
For the first time that evening, she felt safe.
***
Elizabeth jolted awake with a gasp, and brought a hand to her chest to still her racing heart. The carriage’s unfamiliar surroundings did little to reassure her. Gradually, as she blinked sleep from her eyes, she realized where she was.
What she had done.
Chewing her lip, it all slowly came back to her. She had run off in the middle of the night, and cast aside the Ashcroft name, probably forever.
She screwed up her eyes, letting her head fall back against the cushioned velvet seat. How could she have been so reckless? So stupid?
Exhaling sharply, she tried to remind herself that the duke would have made a miserable husband. She had made the right choice. Hadn’t she?
Elizabeth tucked the fur blanket tighter around herself and peered out the window. The first rays of sunlight stretched over the grassy fields, bathing the morning in a soft golden glow. It was still early.
Soon, the carriage ground to a halt, and she heard heavy footsteps followed by a sharp knock.