Page 23 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. It feels like I’m in a dream and that I’ll wake up and find none of it is real, so I make the most of it. Wilson really is a terrible dancer and was nearly escorted from the hall when he fell onto Prince Michael's lap after a particularly vigorous reel. Grayson joined me for one dance, but he was quiet and lost in thought.

We leave around eleven, but the party's still going strong, more wine and liquor being poured as people start to pair off and disappear into dark corners. Wilson walks back with us, only leaving once we arrive at Grayson’s rooms. With a quick goodbye, he winks once at me before he disappears around the corner.

Holding open the door, Grayson gestures for me to head inside, which I do, only to find the room empty. I’d expected to see Jayne waiting for us, but realise belatedly that she’s probably sleeping. Magic rolls over my skin and as I turn, I see Grayson waving his hand over the door before looking at me. His eyes are dark and I can’t read his expression, but he starts walking without saying anything, simply gesturing for me to follow him. Biting my bottom lip, I trail after him, wondering what caused his bad mood as I play with the cuffs at my wrists, nerves running through me. Taking a different door than the one we used before, he leads me down a corridor that has several doorways.

“That’s the bathroom, down there at the end is my room, in case you need me,” he explains, pointing first to a door on our right, then gesturing to a door set into the end of the corridor. Taking a few more steps, he reaches a door on the left, opening it with a twist of the handle. He doesn’t step inside, simply opens the door and nods his head towards the room.

“This is your room, you will be safe in there. I’ve spelled it so no one can enter unless you give them permission.” His voice is curt, his face lined with fatigue, but I’m too distracted to question why. Eyes wide, I take a few small steps into the room, almost afraid he’s joking.

“You did that for m-me?” My voice breaks. I’ve never had my own room, and not just that, but the fact no one can enter, not even Grayson... I don’t think he realises quite how much this gift means to me, to someone who sleeps with one eye open and hasn’t felt truly safe for most of her life.

His eyes snap up to meet mine, and whatever he sees there makes his harsh expression soften. “It’s nothing, a simple spell.” He tries to wave it off, but I won’t let him, not something like this. Reaching out, I grab his arm before he can turn away from me, no doubt leaving to head to his own room.

“Thank you, Grayson,” I whisper.

Dipping his head in acknowledgement, his lips tug up into a small smile. “You’re welcome, Clarissa. Sleep well.”

And with that, he turns and walks down the corridor, opening and entering his room without turning back. The sound of his door closing and a lock sliding into place makes me wince. It’s as if he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I’d dwell on that later, but for now, I have a bedroom to explore. Stepping inside, I look around with wide eyes, a small smile appearing on my face as it clicks shut behind me.

I’m safe.

That night, I dream.

I dream of a slave who discovers she’s a princess and is whisked away to live out her days in a castle. Except everything turns out not to be as perfect as it seemed. Waking up in a tangle of limbs, I feel like I'm still in my dream being swallowed by a large cloud. Thrashing around, I escape from the sheets that are twisted around me and look around the unfamiliar room. I realise that the cloud that’s swallowing me is actually the large, soft bed that takes centre place in the room Grayson had led me to the night before. My room, at least for now.

It doesn’t help that I’m still wearing my dress from the night before. I hadn’t been able to undo the fiddly buttons that fastened the garment together, and there was no way I was going to ask Grayson to do it. Not after the mood he was in last night. Biting down on my lip, I climb out of the huge bed and pull my tangled skirt with me. I’ll need to sneak out and see if Jayne is available to help, but for now, I want to snoop. Last night I’d been so tired I had quickly checked the room for escape routesand places to hide before climbing into bed. The combination of the stress from the day, the amount of walking and dancing, coupled with the fact that I felt truly safe in this room helped me have an undisturbed night. Well, until the nightmare anyway.

A knock on the door distracts me from my thoughts and I freeze at the unfamiliar sound.

“Clarissa? Are you awake? May I come in?” Jayne’s voice reaches me through the door, and I let out a sigh of relief and nod my agreement.

Idiot, she can’t see you,my inner voice sneers, and I let out a small laugh before calling out, “Yes.” The doorknob rattles but no one comes in. Walking over to it, I frown, hearing Jayne’s frustrated sigh at the other side of the door.

“I think you have to say that I can come in. Grayson did say that the spell requires specific words to open it.”

“Oh. Yes, you may come in.” As soon as I speak the words a jolt of magic tingles over my skin and the door opens seemingly by itself to reveal Jayne with her arms full of dresses. I step to the side as the maid bustles into the room, placing her burden on the end of the bed before sorting through the clothing, walking up to the wardrobe, and hanging up the garments. Tilting my head to one side I watch in fascination as she works, admiring the colours and rich fabrics as she “umms” and “ahhs,” setting aside a few dresses and placing the other ones neatly away. Finally done with her task, she turns to look at me, her welcoming smile changing into a look of disapproval.

“You slept in your gown?” Stepping over to me, she gestures for me to spin around so she can help me undress.

“I couldn’t undo the buttons.” Shrugging, I look over the outfits she’s laid out for me.

“You should have called for me, I would’ve come to help you.” There’s a pause as she starts working on the many fiddly buttons and I breathe a happy sigh as the fabric eases. I get thefeeling that Jayne wants to say something else, but she holds her tongue, simply continuing to help me undress. “When I didn’t receive a call, I thought perhaps Grayson had helped you out of your dress.” I frown, not understanding the tone of voice she uses as she mentions Grayson helping me out of my dress. She wiggles her eyebrows as she—Oh. My face flushes red with her implication and I quickly shake my head. I’m not a virgin by any means, a quick fumble with one of the stable slaves at the house I used to work in took care of that, but it had been raw and needy, taking our own pleasure from each other’s bodies. I never saw him again after that, but I hadn’t been upset, there was no love, or even feelings towards each other, just another slave disappearing like so many before him.

“Oh, don’t look so scandalised,” Jayne says with a wicked laugh, her cackle making me want to smile despite the embarrassment that I feel at her question. Finally free of the dress, I stand before her in only my undergarments. Turning, I find her frowning at my back with a look of such sorrow that I want to reach out and comfort her.

“It’s okay, they don’t hurt anymore.” She’s seen my scars before, and to be honest, the ones around my ankles and my stomach are far worse than the many on my back, but they seem to upset her anyway. I make sure my back is facing away from her, I don’t wish to upset her further, but her frown deepens and she reaches out and turns me around.

“No, don’t turn away. I want to see what our kingdom is capable of.” I have to bite my lip as she speaks, trying to hold still as she gazes at what years of slavery has given me. “How old were you when you got these?” Her hand touches the skin on my back and I jump under her touch, flinching away with a hiss of air between my teeth. I know she’s not going to hurt me, but I’ve learned to associate any touch on my back as a punishment.

“It wasn’t just one occasion,” I answer with a shrug, brushing off the matter as if it’s a menial, everyday occurrence, and truthfully, I don’t remember how old I was when I received my first lashing, but I remember the pain. Jayne suddenly appears in my field of vision, shaking her head at me as she reaches out and lifts my chin and adjusts my shoulders, making me stand taller.

“Right, enough of that. You’re safe now.” I hadn’t even realised I was hunching forward, pulling my limbs in close as if to protect myself. Standing tall, I let Jayne faff around me as her words ring in my ears. A sense of guilt has fallen over me since I woke that I can’t seem to shake. I may be safe now, but the other slaves aren’t, they still have to suffer like I did, if not worse. Not that there is anything I can do about it, what use would one former slave be?

You’re just too scared to even try.

I don’t acknowledge my inner voice, instead following Jayne’s instructions, slipping away to wash before returning to her knowledgeable hand to help me dress for the day. She’s picked a loose summer dress, and although the fabric is plain and the cut is modest, it’s still the second nicest thing I’ve ever worn. The sleeves come to my wrists, neat little cuffs covering them. It’ll make doing tasks difficult, but I still don’t know what is going to happen today. The upper part of the dress is loose with a scooped neckline, the waist cinching in before flaring out to above my knees. Simple blue strappy sandals complete the look. I was surprised at the colour of the dress, a rich dark blue like Grayson’s uniform, but the colour looks nice against my pale skin so I don’t mind. I suppose seeing as I am his “guest” here, it makes sense that I wear his colours.

Stepping out of my room, I follow the directions Jayne gave me back to the sitting room where I find Grayson reading a paper while holding a steaming cup of liquid. He raises his headfrom his reading as he notices me enter, pausing for a second before gesturing for me to sit down. He’d been so quiet last night I worried that I’d done something wrong. Perhaps it’s because I was speaking with the prince, or it’s leftover emotion from whatever issue he had been dealing with after the ceremony. Biting my lip, I step towards the table and take the seat opposite him. There’s an empty plate waiting for me and the table is brimming with so many different foods, it can’t possibly all be for us.

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