Tears continued to streak down my face as I stood limply in the middle of the room. I sucked in heaving breaths as the servants tugged off my nightgown.
I didn’t fight as I stood naked before half a dozen females. I was a statue while they plucked me like a chicken, rubbing scented oils all over my body. My nose wrinkled at the horrible smell, but I didn’t stop them.
Pursing my lips together, I didn’t move as they forced me into layers upon layers of petticoats. Instead of stays, the servants pulled a restrictive corset over my breasts. They directed me to hold on to the poster of my bed as they pulled the strings tight.
So tight.
I couldn’t breathe.
But I didn’t care. Not anymore.
Once my chest was properly constricted, the servants pulled a long, blood-red gown over my head. It swept over me, covering me in the king’s colors. The colors of the House of Irriel. To whom I would soon belong. Because I was nothing more than a possession. A pet.
Someone to be owned. Bred like an animal. A wife.
But it was better to be a wife than dead.
Right?
Right?
If I had been in a better frame of mind, I would have ripped the fabric right off me. I would have torn it to shreds with my bare hands. I would have screamed.
But I was not in a better frame of mind. My escape had been nothing more than a dream, and I would never get out of this prison.
I wept silent tears as they pulled my hair up into an elaborate up-do. Remaining still, I didn’t even flinch as they yanked my hair this way and that, before painting my face.
I didn’t fight them as they clasped thick, black bracelets around my wrists.
They look like manacles;I thought morosely.How fitting that I will wear them on my wedding day.
When one of the servants whispered about the prohiberis, I didn’t react.
Because I had nothing left.
* * *
Wedding bells rang through the tower as I descended the winding steps. With each step that I took towards my doom, my stomach twisted in knots. I trembled as I walked down the stone steps, counting them silently in my mind.
There were five hundred and seventeen stairs. Five hundred and seventeen. What an odd number.
Eventually, they too came to an end.
I didn’t let myself think about the fact that this was the first time I had ever been allowed to walk down these stairs. I didn’t let myself think about the freedom I thought I had found.
Staring straight ahead, I barely breathed. I was a shell of myself and nothing more. I knew if I stopped to think about Xander, even for a single moment, fear would paralyze me. And if that happened, I wouldn’t be able to move again.
And so, I didn’t think about him. I didn’t think about his golden eyes, his silver-white hair, or his infuriating personality. I didn’t think about the way he had fought for me.
Instead, I thought about the way I would like to get my hands on a weapon—any weapon—and the ways I would use it. I would make sure King Edgar and his horrible son did not live long enough to terrorize me or anyone else.
My thoughts swirled around with murderous daydreams as I stepped out of the open tower door. My mind was so focused on my thoughts, I didn’t realize that something was wrong until it was too late.
I took a step forward. One foot was on stone, and the other was on… nothing. There was nothing there.
It was a void.
Where the ground should have been was complete and utter darkness. I screamed as I tumbled into emptiness.