Page 6 of The Madman and his broken Princess
It was strange to see Nestore like this, caged in like an animal, his clothes crumpled, hair a tousled mess. The soiled toilet in one corner of the cell had no walls around it for privacy, with a tiny sink beside it. The entire cellblock smelled rotten, as if something had died down here and been forgotten. My belly tightened at the thought, worrying that the same would happen with Nestore.
I wished I could help him, but I was already lucky I had managed to sneak down here without being caught. I had no clue where the keys were.
I had gotten up at six and hurried downstairs way before breakfast to watch from the landing above what was happening down in the foyer. It had allowed me to observe two of Father’s men guffawing as they carried a dog bowl filled with what looked like porridge covered in poo through a heavy steel door. The thought still made me gag. They had emerged shortly after, laughing about Nestore’s disgusted expression. But at least I knew where to find the basement entrance.
“Why are you still here? I would have thought you’d be heading home once the party was over.” His mouth twisted with bitterness.
I flushed. “My father wants us to make this our new home. He wants us to move in right away.” I shuddered thinking of the bodies in the ballroom, of the trails of blood all over the house and gardens. I’d never be able to see this house as anything but a cemetery. But father didn’t care about my feelings. He only cared to flaunt his triumph.
Nestore laughed, a jaded, bitter sound. “Of course. A castle for the new king.”
I wasn’t sure what to tell him. The horrors I’d witnessed last night were still fresh in my mind, but my belly was empty, so I couldn’t throw up again.
“Why are you down here? We aren’t friends. You hardly know me.” Nestore was not being unkind, just curious.
I tensed. He had a point. Before tonight, we had never talked. I gave a slight shrug. “You were kind to me last night, though you didn’t have to be. You were in a position of power over me, and I learned early that usually people who are kind to you need to be. People who are above you in the hierarchy are never kind, at least not the people I had met before, but you were…”
Did I make sense? I had no intention of mentioning that I had a little crush on him, and it definitely wasn’t why I had risked my father’s wrath.
“Do you feel guilty because your father did all this?”
I paused. Did I? “Maybe. But I didn’t know.”
He nodded. “I believe you. And you don’t have to feel responsible for me.”
“But I do.”
“And I’m fucking glad about it if I’m being honest.”
I smiled at his bluntness.
Nestore pushed to his feet and came toward the bars, then gripped them. His gaze implored me to help him. “I need to escape from here, Amelia. Your father will kill me. He’ll torture me. My only chance is to get out.”
My throat corded up. “I don’t know how. I don’t have the keys, and nobody will hand them to me. My father is still in the hospital, so I’m being left to my own devices.”
“My former bodyguard, Eduardo, has the keys. If you could find him and grab them from him…”
I wasn’t a thief or a sleuth. My father had never taught me to fight, pick a lock, or do anything remotely useful in our male-dominated world. If I got caught trying to steal the keys, Father would punish me harshly. The last time I had contradicted him at the dinner table, he’d whipped me with his belt in front of Flavia and the staff until my ass was red. I couldn’t sit for days. If I betrayed him… I shuddered to think of the consequences I’d encounter then.
But Nestore needed my help.
“It’s okay,” Nestore murmured, his voice heavy with resignation. “I’m asking too much of you. We’re not even friends. I can’t expect you to risk your life for me.”
“My father wouldn’t kill me.”
Nestore’s gaze reflected skepticism.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I can try to put in a good word for you with my father.” That in itself was already risky and would probably not yield results. My word meant little to my father.
Nestore gave me a bitter smile and returned to the spot where I’d found him. He sank to the ground and wrapped his arms around his long legs.
“I could bring you food and water?” I wanted to do something. I didn’t want him to believe that I would support my father.
Nestore chuckled, giving me a sardonic look. “Dying of thirst would be mercy, and you want to take that from me?”
I gaped, not sure what to say to that.
He shook his head, then leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “That was a joke. I won’t give your father the satisfaction of dying down here.”
