Page 32 of Legacy of Succession

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

VICTORIA

I don’t want to open my eyes. Am I dead? No, surely I wouldn’t be in this much pain if I were. I try to shift on the bed from my front to my back but freeze the second that I experience a ricochet of agony so blinding, it shoots through my body. I cry out. I can’t help it, which aggravates the wound on my tongue. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth — I’ve opened a laceration.

“Wait, I’ll help you” ?a gentle feminine voice offers ? “you’re still very bruised.”

“Amelia?” I recognize her soft tones at once.

“Yes,” she replies, and I feel the cover’s being shifted from my back. “Do you want to sit up?”

“Please,” I respond, and she helps me to turn over and sit. She places a soft cushion under my bottom despite the fact that I’m on my bed. I feel sick from the pain, and it makes my head spin. “What happened?” My mind feels foggy. I have a vague recollection of a mask and name calling.

I retch. The names were so cruel. Amelia puts a small bowl in front of me, and I dry heave over it. Every jolt of my body sends aches through me. I have nothing to bring up as I haven’t eaten or drunk for what seems like ages. I look down at my hand and see a cannula in it. I look up at Amelia and try to speak, but I’m breaking down.

“Breathe. It’s alright. You're safe.” She touches my hand. “Do you remember the punishment they gave you?”

I look into the haze that is my brain and remember the scold’s bridle and the horsewhips. I blank the name calling. I’m not going to remember that again.

“Yes, they whipped me.”

She nods.

“You were in bad shape. We thought you may die. The Earl called for his doctor. You have some deep wounds, which were stitched up. They gave you morphine to help with the pain and fluid to keep you hydrated. That’s why you have this.” She looks at the device in my hand. “It was thought best to let you sleep for a few days to allow your body to start healing. They stopped all the drugs this morning. I have some extra strength painkillers here if you need them.” This time, she holds up a bottle.

“Yes, please.” I don’t hesitate. Give me all the drugs you can to numb the agony in my body. The morphine drip sounds good. Maybe I could get hooked back up on that.

Amelia hands me two pills and helps me sit forward to drink some water. My throat is raw, and the water mixes with the blood in my mouth. It’s not a pleasant experience.

“They’ve advised you not to talk too much. The bridle had a spike on it, and when you passed out, it cut your tongue. It was rusty due to its age, and they feared you may lose your tongue to infection, but it seems alright. You need to rest it to let it heal.” I take her advice and nod my response rather than speak it.

I collapse my head back against the headboard of the bed, I’m grateful for the plethora of cushions that cocoon me. I already feel tired from moving just a few times.

“How long?” I ask, keeping my words to a minimum, trying not to move my tongue. I think Amelia understands me, even if I do sound stupid.

“You’ve been asleep for three days. They’ve allowed me to look after you. Well, Nicholas said I could. The Duke, he said to leave you in your own filth. I don’t like that man.” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she whispers.

“I agree with you. Don’t be sorry.”

“I shouldn’t say it, though.” She looks up and around the room.

“Cameras,” I say.

“Yes. The other brother told me to be careful.”

“Other brother?” I’m confused.

She leans forward and whispers into my ear,

“William.”

“You’ve seen him.” I’m still trying not to move my tongue when I speak.

“He’s been helping me look after you. He keeps to the side, so he can’t be seen. He seems nice. A little inappropriate, the first thing he told me was that I had a bottom like a Kardashian. I’m assuming that’s a nice compliment. He was smiling politely when he said it.”

I try to stifle the laugh I feel, but when a little escapes, I regret it instantly. Damn, this pain’s terrible.

“I don’t think he’s that good with social etiquette. He’s nice, though.” I give up on the no talking. The more I do it, the looser my mouth’s feeling, and the taste of blood has gone. Of course, it could be that the painkillers have kicked in because my bottom suddenly seems to be less painful as well. “I can assure you that a Kardashian's bottom is a good one. Don’t you know who they are?”

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