by Shari Cross
Chapter 19
HER
The early morning light spills into the entry in streaks, making the wood on the door appear as though it’s been painted in alternating shades of brown. Father is sitting near the fireplace, sipping on his morning cup of tea and reading a worn, leather-bound book. I grab my black cloak from the hook on the wall and drape it over my shoulders.
“Off already?” Father asks before taking another sip.
“Yes, I want to talk to Charles as soon as possible. Are you going to the Berrengers’ today?”
“No, I have chores to take care of here at home.”
“Like fixing the hole in the roof of the barn?” My eyebrows raise in skepticism.
He lifts his head from his book and gives me a displeased look. “Now you sound like your mother.”
I chuckle slightly at this, but it’s half-hearted. My nerves are too tangled for me to offer a real laugh. I reach for the doorknob, but can’t make myself open it. Closing my eyes, I try to still my rapidly beating heart with a calming breath.
“Don’t worry, Addalynne. The young lord will understand. He’s an honorable man: just like his father.”
I glance back at my father and force a smile and a small nod.
The stable is dark and smells strongly of hay. My brother’s horse, Sejant, is closest to me. I offer him a handful of hay and a small pat. “Freyja!” I call out and walk to my horse. She stands proudly while I fasten the brown leather saddle to her back. But before I get on, I brush my hand through her golden hair, letting the softness of it calm me. She leans her head toward mine and nuzzles my cheek with her light brown nose. “Let’s get this over with, girl.”
Once we reach the main road, Freyja breaks into a swift sprint. The force of the wind blows my hood off, the cool air nipping at my face, causing me to squint against its harshness. The heady scent of dirt and smoke drifts over me as people light their morning fires.
Several minutes later, I arrive outside Lord Berrenger’s manor and am greeted by multiple guards. They help me off Freyja before tying her to the outer fence.
The manor somehow looks bigger than it did the night of the Ball. The morning sun is shining on it, causing every tower and wall to glow behind the green vines that are ascending the stones.
My hand shakes slightly as I lift it up to the brass knocker. Breathe, I tell myself, and rap the knocker against the door. Several seconds later, the large door groans, pulled open by the same servant who was distributing jonquils on the night of the Ball. His light brown hair falls across his forehead as he greets me with a bow. When I step inside, he removes my cloak from my shoulders and then asks me to wait in the Great Hall.
Without the large amount of people, food, and decorations, the Great Hall gives off a cold, desolate feeling. There’s one long empty banquet table along the far right wall that a woman in a dingy apron is dusting. I offer her a quiet hello, but she doesn’t look up from her work. I turn away and look toward the space where the dance floor used to be, but now there are only four, red, cushioned chairs facing each other around a small wooden table. The large fireplace illuminates the far left side of the space, looking all the more colossal today without the minstrels performing in front of it. The heat of the flames caresses my cheek, and I think longingly of the cool morning air outside.
“Addalynne.” Charles’s voice startles me and I can’t help but jump. I turn and see him standing before me, a curious smile on his face. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you so early in the morning?” He says as he gazes down the length of my body. I wish I still had my cloak on.
With a deep breath, I push out my words. “I’m sorry to call on you so early, my Lord, but there’s a matter of importance I was hoping to discuss with you.” My fingers fidget with the gold-trimmed sleeves of my black dress and I have to force them to be still at my side.
“Oh, and what would that be?” he asks, taking several deliberate steps toward me.
“My father informed me of our pre-arranged engagement and—”
“Yes. Isn’t it wonderful?”
My heart batters in my chest as he takes yet another step toward me. I swallow with difficulty and continue. “It’s a wonderful offer, my Lord. I’m deeply honored. However, I must decline the proposal.” I want to look away from him as I speak, but I force myself to look straight into his eyes, hoping to project confidence.
“Is that so?” he asks curiously, taking one more step toward me, making the space between us less than an arm’s length. He stares down at me with narrowed eyes. “That is disappointing. Perhaps there’s something I can do to help change your mind.” He reaches forward and brushes his fingers along my cheek. His touch sends chills across my body, and not the good kind.
“I’m sorry, my Lord, but I’ve thought this through. I can’t marry you.” I speak kindly, but decidedly. He needs to see that I’m not going to change my mind.
Charles assesses me for a moment, his hand traveling from my cheek down the length of my hair. His hand comes to a stop at the tips of my hair and he twirls it methodically with his fingers.
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. I’m no fool, Addalynne. I know the reason for your resistance and I assure you, the orphan can easily be taken care of.”
I exhale sharply, struggling against the shock of his words. “He has nothing to do with my decision,” I lie shakily, but it’s no good. Charles sees right through me.
“Do stop lying to me, Addalynne. It’s growing rather tiresome. I’ve seen you with him and am well aware of what took place between you in my garden on the night of the Ball. I considered disposing of him then, but decided to give you another chance. So, here it is. I will not be made a fool twice. You will be mine. I was merely placating your father by letting him think you had a choice. Granted, I suppose you have one, but if you don’t want the orphan to have an unfortunate accident, you will make the right choice.”
No. I won’t let him force me into this! I won’t let him take everything away from me now that I just got it back! Besides, he’s not a threat. He’s a coward. I set my shoulders and look him straight in the eye. “You won’t hurt him. You’re nothing but a spoiled coward who’s unaccustomed to hearing, no, so you’re trying to scare me into agreeing. But I’m not afraid of you.”
A small smile tilts his mouth. “Oh, but you should be . . . . Sarah, come here please. I’m in need of your assistance,” he calls to the maid who has moved on to dust the golden mantel around the fireplace.
She turns toward Charles, her face flushed from the heat. She wipes the sweat from her brow and moves toward us. “Yes, my Lord,” she says in her haste and comes to a stop with a slight curtsey before him.
Charles pulls a dagger from his belt and my heart clenches. He tilts it toward her, the tip facing her.
“Don’t.” The word leaves my mouth, but it’s shallow and quieted with fear.
“Sarah,” he tsks. “This is not nearly clean enough. There’s still blood on it from your son.”
Sarah stares down at the dagger and I finally realize who she is; Sarah Hunt, Samuel Hunt’s mother. Samuel wasn’t taken by a hellion. Charles killed him. I see the truth in the dried blood on the dagger and in the slow tear falling from the corner of his mother’s eye. My stomach lurches.
“He’s always leaving a mess, even in death,” Charles continues. “And since you can’t clean it up anymore, I will just have to find someone else who can.” Charles flicks his wrist, slashing the dagger across her throat. My hand flies to my mouth, muffling my screams. I watch, helplessly, as Sarah Hunt’s body drops to the floor, her eyes rolling back in her head, a gurgled cough forcing blood from her lips.
Uncontrolled tears fall from my eyes and the room spins around me. Blood rushes in my ears and I have to fight against the dizziness that’s overtaking me. Suddenly, I feel someone wrap their arms around me and guide me to one of the red chairs.
Breathe Addalynne. Keep it together. Now is not the time to fall apar
t. I force breaths in and try to force out the image of Sarah Hunt’s face as she fell to the ground.
The room finally stops spinning and I allow myself to look up at Charles, his image blurry through my tears. He’s looking down at the dagger as he wipes her blood off with the ends of his black tunic, his head shaking with disappointment. “She was my maid, Addalynne. I actually liked her. So imagine what I would do to the orphan: someone I like less than the dirt beneath my nails.”
He looks at the dagger, checking for any remnants of blood. When he doesn’t find any, he nods with satisfaction, places the dagger in his belt and steps over her body, as though it’s nothing but a rock in his way.
“You’re a monster,” I spit the words out, watching him until he’s standing in front of me. I want to stand, to feel strong enough to face him, but I don’t trust my legs to hold me, so instead I stare up at him, feeling helpless as an infant.
“That may be true, but I’m not really one for labels. Besides, I’m not to blame for her death. Her death is on your hands. You thought my threats were empty, but now you know the truth. I may not be a lot of things, Addalynne, but I am a man of my word.”
The image of her eyes going dark as her life left her flashes into my mind. My fault. It’s my fault. He may be the one who killed her, but I pushed him to it.
“What have we here?” Lord Vernold Berrenger’s voice bounds into the Great Hall. I glance over at him, my heart hammering. Vernold has always been kind to my family. He has to help me.
Vernold’s eyes drift from me, to Charles, to Sarah Hunt’s body. I wait for him to react, but he looks at her like a bowl of oatmeal left out too long. “Is anyone going to clean this up?” He asks and my small dash of hope scatters like leaves in a storm.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
Vernold’s eyes meet mine, filled with the same patience and compassion I’ve seen in him all my life. “What do you mean, my dear?”
“Your son just murdered her. For no reason. And you don’t even care.”
“Now that’s not true,” he says as he walks toward us. “I do care. Her blood is staining my floors.” He stops behind Charles and places a hand on his shoulder. “Since you’re here, Addalynne, I’m assuming you’ve accepted my son’s hand in marriage?”
I look down at my hands, but I feel their stares on me, waiting for me to speak.
Say no. Just say, no. I can find a way out. There has to be a way out. But as much as I want this to be true, I know it’s not.
“Does my father know?” I ask instead of answering, because I have to know.
“Know what?” Vernold asks, his voice truly curious.
I finally allow myself to look up and meet his eyes.
“She’s as pale as a ghost,” Charles says with a laugh, but I ignore him, and keep my gaze on Vernold.
“Does he know what you and your son really are?”
He tilts his head. “And what’s that?”
“Murderers!”
“That’s not fair, Addalynne. We’re not murderers, we’re negotiators. We attempt to find reasonable solutions to what we need done and if we can’t, then we deal with it.”
“You call this reasonable?”
“Yes. Charles made you a fair offer and if you take it, no one else will need to be harmed. And, to answer your first question, no, your father doesn’t know about the people we’ve disposed of out of necessity. He wouldn’t understand. Which means our conversation must not leave here. Anyone you tell would have to be eliminated, and though I would hate to do it, I will do what’s necessary.”
“My father trusts you. I trusted you.”
“And there’s no reason for you to lose your trust,” Vernold says, and what’s most disturbing is that he seems to truly believe his own words. He places a hand on my shoulder. I want to shake it off, but I can’t bring myself to move. “You just can’t see past this moment, Addalynne,” he continues. “But let me remind you that I’m the man who gave your father a job when he had a starving, pregnant wife at home. I’m the reason your family has risen. Your father didn’t come from money. Everything you have is because of what I gave you, and I could just as easily take it away, but I won’t as long as you give me no reason to, and you can trust in that.”
What’s left of my resolve completely shatters. My hands may as well be bound. To fight against Charles would already be difficult, to fight against them both is impossible. And I have no one to turn to for help because I can’t risk telling anyone what happened today. I can’t risk the lives of my family or Drake, just to save my own.
“If I agree to marry Charles, will you give your word to never hurt Drake or anyone else I love?” I put all the energy I have left into securing their promise. It’s the only thing that matters.
“You have our word,” Vernold replies with a nod of his head.
“As long as you continue to remain compliant, there will be no problems,” Charles adds, and he reaches forward and brushes his hand along my cheek. I don’t know what I want to cut off more, his hand or the skin that he’s touched.
“Then, I’ll marry you,” I finally reply and the sound of my own acceptance stabs through me. I close my eyes, willing myself to wake up from this nightmare.
“Wonderful!” Vernold replies. My stomach turns, and I have to swallow the vomit that has risen in my throat.
“Now, may I please be excused?” I ask, a tremor present in my voice while I struggle for a breath of composure.
“Yes,” Charles replies. “Do keep in mind though, that I’ll be announcing our engagement tomorrow. It wouldn’t be proper for you to be seen with the orphan anymore considering you’re a betrothed woman. If I or anyone else sees you with him, I will consider it a breach of our arrangement and I will handle the situation.”
I simply nod my head and rise to my feet, having fully reached my limit. Tears are forcing their way out of my eyes, and the pressure in my chest is nearly suffocating. I turn slowly and almost stumble out the door, not bothering to retrieve my cloak.
The cold wind bites at my tear-streaked face as I run toward Freyja. I pull myself up and squeeze her swiftly in her sides, setting her into a sprint, not caring where she goes.
Today I have promised away my life in order to save Drake’s. Marrying Charles will be torture, but the thought of something happening to Drake is unbearable. He means more to me than my own life, and I’m more than willing to sacrifice mine for his.
Drake’s face lingers in my mind. I promised myself a long time ago that I would do whatever it takes to keep him safe. I won’t let anything happen to him. The thought of going to Drake and persuading him to run away with me enters my mind like a fire of hope. But as quickly as it comes, a devastating wave of realization crushes it. If we leave together, Charles will hurt my family. I know he will. Life means nothing to him. And we couldn’t all leave. He and Vernold will be watching all of us closely until the wedding is finalized. Besides, there are others they could hurt. An image of Mary’s smiling face flashes before me. I could never protect everyone.
Knowing what I have to do next rips me apart. I have to tell Drake of my engagement, and I have to convince him it’s what I want. If he so much as suspects I’m being forced into this, he’ll fight against Charles and he’ll be killed. The only way to save his life is to make him hate me. It shouldn’t be too hard, I already hate myself.
Chapter 20
HER
It’s the middle of the afternoon when I finally get back home. After returning an exhausted Freyja to the barn, I make my way to the front door. Before opening it, I try my best to craft my face into a mask devoid of all emotion. If this is going to work, everyone has to believe that it’s my choice. With a ragged breath, I push the door open.
“Where have you been, Addalynne?” My father’s reprimanding voice carries easily down the hallway, preceding his heavy footsteps. “I went to the Berrengers’, but Vernold said you had left hours before,” he
continues as he steps into the room.
“I’m sorry. I stayed out riding Freyja and must have lost track of time.” I try my best to put life into my voice, but the image of Sarah Hunt’s face drifts into my mind and this time, as her body falls to the ground, her face changes, turning to Drake’s, and it’s his lifeless eyes that stare back at me. I close my eyes and will the image away before it breaks me.
“Next time, tell someone where you are.”
“I will,” I manage to say as I lean my back against the door and stare down at the bottom of my black dress. The gold ribbon that is sewn along the bottom hem has begun to unravel, taking on a frayed and mangled appearance. “Did Vernold say anything else?” I ask.
“He said that we have a wedding to plan,” my father says skeptically and waits for me to confirm or deny his words.
“We do,” I reply.
He stares at me expectantly. “Well, what happened?” he asks, after realizing I’m not going to divulge the information myself.
I look up at him, preparing my words. Out of my entire family, he will be the easiest to deceive. If I can’t convince him that I’m choosing this and that I’m happy about it, then I’ll never be able to convince anyone else, especially not Drake.
“I changed my mind. I’m going to marry Charles.”
“I ascertained that, but how did you come to this decision?”
“I did what you said and gave him a chance to speak. He . . . made strong points in favor of a union with him, and I realized that it was an offer I couldn’t refuse.” The truth of my words presses against me like a corset that’s too tight, making it difficult to breathe. My father regards me for several moments, his eyebrows scrunched in thought. He knows I’m holding back, but he’s usually not the type to force information. Hopefully, he stays true to form today.
