The slight tremble in my bottom lip infuriated me, and I bit down until I tasted copper.
I will not break.
Maud was gone, a chunk of my life wasted, but I was still here. I had survived. I would survive again.
All I had to do was swallow down the fear clogging my throat, breathe through the band cinching tighter around my chest, and stay present. No hiding behind mental walls when reality got too hard.
Time to put my resolve to the test.
Where was I? I couldn’t have been unconscious that long. Then again, I had no recollection of waking prior to the last one. How far had he put me under to erase chunks of my memory? What had happened to me during that time?
After conducting a mental inventory, I decided I felt fine. A small headache, some tightness in my chest and a few other aches and pains that could be blamed on a long sleep without switching positions. I studied my hands, the ones I’d never expected to hold a brush again, and wished more than anything that I could speak to Maud one last time.
What have you done, you wily old coot?
Burying her head in the sand wasn’t like Maud. Better than anyone, she should have known ignoring a problem wouldn’t make it go away. Maybe she had wanted me to be older before I faced this. Maybe she thought she could protect me. Maybe death had seemed so abstract after all her centuries of living that she had miscalculated how much time she had left. And then those precious few decades that remained had been snatched away. Whatever her plan, it was a bust now.
Sprawling on my back, I crossed my ankles and folded my hands behind my head.
I stared up at the sky until I couldn’t tell one blackness from another as my eyelids closed.
Fifteen
Three days into my captivity, as best as I could tell, I climbed into the comforting void in my head and stayed there. Not even the enticement of the outdoors tempted me from under the covers. I saw no one except Lena, who fretted over me, tucking and untucking me on the downy mattress I had no strength to leave. The entire scope of my world had narrowed to the bed, and I had trouble thinking beyond its comforting softness. Even the nightmares left me alone to cuddle my pillow and drift.
That was their first mistake.
Allowing me to wake in bed night after night tipped me off to how wrong I had been acting, how wrong I felt. I hadn’t fought them since that first night, and that wasn’t like me. I was a survivor. Not this docile invalid who swallowed spoon-fed lies and asked for seconds.
I scrounged up the will to examine the floor under the bedframe on the fourth night. The lack of sigils meant magic wasn’t the culprit. No, they must have gone a more traditional route and drugged me through food and drink. That was the only explanation that made sense.
Otherwise I would have literally been climbing the walls by now, and the boxwood would have made it easy. Knowing my luck, Volkov would have been waiting to catch me on the other side. Him or my stalkerpire, who I had yet to hear named. Was his identity as protected as our whereabouts? I was starting to wonder why that might be.
Lena had breezed through the doorway at some point. I wasn’t sure how long she’d stood there, looking down on me while I daydreamed of escape, before I smelled steak with grilled onions and noticed her.
“Would you like me to help you up, miss?”
I turned my head toward her. “Can I eat on the patio today?”
“I don’t see why not.” Her left fang dented her bottom lip. “It’s such a lovely night.”
“I’ll behave.” I forced a laugh that sounded like the dying gasp from a corpse. “I need some fresh air.”
A change swept over her upon hearing the word air. “Let me clear a path.” Her movements blurred in their swiftness. Clearly, my panic attack had spooked them. “Just keep breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth.” She whisked the food out to the table I’d barely noticed my first night in the garden room and rematerialized at my elbow. “I can get Mr. Volkov if—”
“No.” I forced my tone to calm. “I don’t want to bother him. I’m sure he’s very busy.”
“He’s the master’s right hand these days.” She exhaled a breathy sigh. “Handsome too. Kind. Generous. Such a power for one so young. You’re awful lucky to have caught his eye, miss, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
If you like him so much, then you can have him. “He makes an impression for sure.”
How well he’d lied to my face, faked being my friend, acted like he cared that I have a say in our relationship sure impressed the heck out of me.
Accepting my backhanded compliment as earnest praise, Lena helped me sit upright then swung my legs over the side of the bed. I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to make it across the room, but my feet never touched the floor. She scooped me up into her arms, carried me outside and deposited me in my chair, all without breaking a sweat.
“There now. That’s much better.” She straightened her apron, which was still white, but made of linen. Her uniform had mellowed from Strawberry Shortcake into more casual attire. A white dress shirt with capped sleeves paired with dove-gray skirt and ballet flats. “I’ll go tidy up your room while you enjoy your dinner.”
Steaks came precut these days. Couldn’t risk me playing with knives, could they? I popped a tasteless cube in my mouth to show what a good girl I could be when I put my mind to behaving. “Do you think you could get me something?”
“I will do my best.”
“There was a bunny plush in my other room.” I spooned up the mashed potatoes and forced down the first bite. “I was wondering if you might bring him to me.”
“That I can do.” A happy laugh bubbled out of her. “I thought you might remember him. He was always your favorite. That’s why I put him where you couldn’t miss him.”
What I remembered was waking up with his face imprinted on my right butt cheek. That was the extent of our relationship as far as I was concerned.
“He’s cute.” I sipped from my glass, the wine too smoky for me to determine if there was more to its taste than toasted oak barrels. “I wouldn’t mind having some company, you know?”
A flicker of pity crossed her delicate features. “I’ll have to clear it with Mr. Volkov, you understand, but he would do anything for you.”
Except let me go. “Thank you.”
“Of course, miss.”
“Lena?” I infused my voice with equal parts curiosity and eagerness. “When will I meet the master?”
“I can’t rightly say,” she admitted. “He’s a busy male.”
Too busy to check in on his captive? He must be very busy indeed. Or, just maybe, he wasn’t here.
That would explain why no one had done anything with me up to now.
While I mulled over what they wanted from me and why they hadn’t tried hard to get it yet, I forced down my meal. I skimmed my gaze over the patio, searching for weapons or means of escape or inspiration. All I found was a single, perfect clamshell pressed into the otherwise immaculate expanse of concrete that left me wondering who this room’s original occupant might have been.
The colors and the shell reminded me of Odette and her seaside bungalow.
Then again, considering the bizarre pinkscape in my previous accommodations, maybe each room in this estate was themed.
Lena changed my sheets and set out clean pajamas, humming a song so familiar I could have joined in the chorus. I almost asked what it was but figured she was as likely to give me a straight answer as she was to turn into a bat and fly across the moon.
I hadn’t showered in almost a week, not that you could tell from my softly waving hair and moisturized skin. I was ninety-nine percent certain that I received daily sponge baths, a humiliation I was grateful to sleep through.
Finished with the main course, I dug into the chocolate mousse. The first bite dissolved on my tongue. Past that, I couldn’t feel my tongue…or much else. The world spun faster when I turned my head toward Lena, but she caught me as I toppled from my chair and carried me back to the bed.
Hours later, I woke to find the hideous rabbit tucked in next to me like we were old pals.
Sleep pressed on me, a cool weight that suffocated, and my eyelids fluttered.
No.
Atramentous had taken years to rob me of my spirit. I wasn’t caving again in under a week. I wasn’t caving again ever.
Worried about noise carrying to my guards, I removed one of my fuzzy socks and tugged it down over the rabbit’s head. Smashing his face against the edge of the wooden headboard was oddly satisfying. I peeled down the top and reached inside, choosing the sharpest, thickest piece of porcelain.
There were only so many places I could hide it where it might not be found. Not on me. My person wasn’t sacred here. The sheets were out too. Those got changed each time I left the bed. The one constant was the French doors remained open at all times. One shard could go unnoticed out there.
Lethargy weighted my limbs as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I tried standing but crumpled. The best I could do was hold the shard between my teeth, lips peeled back to keep from cutting myself, as I crawled on all fours into the yard.
While I debated where to bury my treasure, I noticed that same perfect seashell pressed into the concrete along the farthest edge. Careful not to bark my knees or palms, I inched forward until I could shove the pointed end into the dirt, leaving me a shallow edge to grasp when it came time to retrieve my new best friend.
Getting back in bed took forever, and I was drenched in sweat when my head hit the pillow, but sleep came between one blink and the next.
Lena was arranging my breakfast out on the patio when I woke the next night with the rabbit curled against my side like I’d been snuggling him. I’d built up the sheet between us so I wouldn’t get cut, but now it was time to get the creeper tossed out on his cotton tail.
Once the maid turned her back, I leaned over the edge of the bed and dumped the contents of my sock on the floor. The next phase of my plan was going to suck. Gritting my teeth in anticipation of the pain, I pulled the splinter-filled sock back on my foot, wincing as the fragments pierced my sole, and sat upright. With no small amount of glee, I dropped the rabbit, and the remainder of his face shattered on the planks.