Page 38 of Beholden
“Very well. How can two of us cross the bridge without detection?”
“We can’t. I told you, it’s never been done.”
A slave standing guard outside the hut poked his head inside. “One of the overseers is coming.”
At his hissed whisper, several lowered themselves to the ground and pretended to be asleep. The men who’d been holding me escaped out the back window, leaving me free to run away.
I could go right now and spare Curly. And what about Ty? If I left, he’d likely attempt to cross the bridge and put himself in grave peril too.
No, if I was going to fight my way free, I would have to do it alone.
Chapter
13
Gabriella
I knelt andkissed the duchess’s outstretched hand. The jewels from her rings brushed against my face and were as cold and hard as her fingers. Without lifting my head, I shifted and reached for Tilde’s hand. Although she allowed me the perfunctory kiss, she hastily withdrew from me, as if my touch made her dirty. Signe, two years younger, didn’t bother to extend her hand and instead tucked both behind her back.
After spending the entire day and well into the evening doing my best to erase the past months of the mine from my skin and body, I still had more work to do before I would meet noble standards. I’d likely need to alternate between bathing and oil treatments for most of the coming night before I took my leave in the morning for Kensington.
The servants who remained from my childhood had been delighted to see me again. They’d paid visits to my chambers off and on throughout the day to welcome me home. Their tears of joy had been a balm for my aching soul, although the reunion was also bittersweet in knowing I would leave them again so soon.
After I departed on the morrow, they would realize all too clearly, if they hadn’t already, the reason for my release from the mine—that the duchess was sending me to the Choosing Ball in Tilde’s place. Every household must send their fairest maiden, an unmarried woman between the ages of eighteen and twenty. No one was exempt, not even the duchess.
“You may rise,” the duchess said.
Sir Lucan at my side aided me up, and as I straightened, I was again keenly aware of how my beauty had faded. My hands were callused and my fingernails gritted with dirt that now seemed permanent. My red hair dangled in long waves but was coarse and dull. My gown, which had once highlighted my womanly form, now hung listlessly on my too-thin frame.
Did I have a chance of being chosen for the sacrifice? I held my breath as the duchess assessed me and hoped she wouldn’t find me overly lacking.
The duchess would have to send Tilde if she didn’t send me. And the duchess would do whatever she could to keep her daughter at home. After all, no young woman, whether fair or not, wanted to go to the ball and risk being chosen. In most households, the day before Midsummer’s Eve was filled with great solemnity. At dawn on the day of the ball, the young women were ushered away with much lamenting, as if they were leaving for their funerals instead of the queen’s festivities.
“The mine has not been kind to you.” The duchess stood from the golden chair that had once belonged to my father. Inlaid with colorful gems, it was worthy of a king or queen. The entire hall was exquisitely crafted befitting royalty. From the colorful mosaic tiles in the walls to the dome overhead inlaid with gold plate and engraved with intricate patterns, my father had created it as a tribute to King Alfred and his family, hoping that when they visited, they would find it admirable.
On the few occasions Queen Margery had come to Rockland Castle, she always expressed her appreciation. But part of me couldn’t keep from wondering if she’d been calculating how to do away with my father in order to claim the land and wealth for herself.
Of course, after my father’s untimely demise, she’d been too diplomatic to swoop in and take possession of Rockland in her own right. As many of her council already suspected Father’s death had been no accident, such a move would have placed greater suspicion upon her. Instead, she’d used the duchess as her pawn to oversee the estate while at the same time having access to whatever she wanted of my father’s holdings and coffers.
A mocking smile tugged at the duchess’s lips. With her dark hair swept up into a severe high coif that was covered in dangling jewels, her fleshy face was powdered into an unnatural white. Of medium height, she was large boned and bulky like her brother, Ethelred, who had married Queen Margery and seemed to love her ardently until he passed away. Their only son and the heir to the throne, Prince Ethelbard, was of stocky build, as was the young Princess Ruby. Only the oldest daughter, Princess Pearl, had inherited Margery’s slender beauty.
I’d met Princess Pearl during one of the queen’s visits to Rockland. A year different in age, we’d bonded well. I’d longed to have her for a friend, but the queen had never allowed Pearl to return to Rockland. Early last summer, the beautiful young woman had died during a hunting accident.
Some speculated Pearl’s death hadn’t been by chance. They said that since Pearl had turned eighteen, the queen had staged Pearl’s death and then sent the princess into hiding to save her from having to be sacrificed to Grendel. With her dark hair, green eyes, and flawless skin, Pearl had easily been the fairest maiden in Warwick. The queen would have had no option but to pick her own daughter at the Choosing Ball.
Other rumors hinted at more sinister reasons behind Pearl’s death. Everyone knew the queen had been jealous of her daughter for outshining her in not only beauty but in charm and poise. The simple truth was that people liked Pearl more than Queen Margery. Some had even begun to proclaim that Pearl should be the next queen. There were rumors of rebelling against Queen Margery and making Pearl the next leader, even over Prince Ethelbard.
“I told you that you wouldn’t be pleased, Your Grace.” Lord Query leaned in toward the duchess and whispered loud enough that everyone near the front of the hall could hear.
“Mother.” Tilde’s voice wobbled, her eyes filling with tears. “You said I wouldn’t need to go to the ball.”
“And you will not.” The duchess patted Tilde’s arm, her rings clinking together.
“But she’s ugly, Mother. Simply deplorable.”
“Of course, no one can compare to you and Signe.” The duchess eyed me again critically. “But we shall do our best to make her presentable.”
Tilde sniffled noisily, her face splotchy and her eyes red, likely from the worry of the past week of waiting for my arrival. I wanted to feel sorry for her and the distress I’d inadvertently caused her, but all I felt was emptiness.
