“How many more consequences could there possibly be?” I whimpered. “You have already taken away my friends, my maids, the man I could've loved, and you killed my horse! You've ruined everything that ever made me happy!”
“And now I will take away your freedom,” he said flatly. He didn't even seem to be concerned with me and the devastation he had placed on my soul. “When you signed that contract, you agreed to bear my child. Now, you have proven yourself to be untrustworthy, and, because of that, I will be placing heavy restrictions on you. You are no longer permitted to roam the palace freely. You will be confined to your room all day, nearly every day. You will eat all of your meals here, and you will be attended to by a single maid who will cycle every day. Twice a week, I will allow you to venture somewhere in the palace, and once a week, you will be allowed to go into the gardens. In both instances, you will be under the supervision of a minimum of three guards. I will see you as often as I see fit—though it will only be for the purpose of impregnating you—and when you are with child, you will be shipped off to the summer manor. The child will remain here with me as I no longer think you are capable of raising another human to be anything more than a spinster.”
“You can't do this to me.” I wept. “You have no right.”
“That is where you're wrong. If you don't recall, I am your husband, your king, and your owner.”
***
Five days passed very slowly. My heart was heavy. I thought that I would be so upset that I would lie in my bed and hold my chest as if I could stop the aching that had become dull and constant. But I didn't. I moved around my bedroom slowly, like the sadness made me lethargic, but I didn't cry. I didn't lay on my stomach and scream into my pillow. I didn't make conversation with my maid—mostly because I was given a new maid every morning. I just dragged myself around the room, picking up my sewing project but never stitching, fiddling with a book but never reading, standing by the window but never watching anything. I felt like I was going crazy from the pain and the lack of human contact.
I had no choice but to give in and poke my head out my door. As promised, there were several guards standing right outside the door. They immediately became tense like they thought I would try to run past them. I just watched them place their hands on the hilts of their swords with anxious eyes. Perhaps, it would be best if they simply slit my throat and ended my misery now.
“I need to leave my room,” I announced. My voice sounded bleak, even to my own ears.
“Would you like to go to the stables?” one of them asked. He had been my guard before I had run away, and he knew about my frequent trips to see Jester. He was the only one who had a slight look of compassion to him. The others merely looked pensive.
“No, there's no point of going to the stables if my horse is no longer alive,” I muttered, rubbing my tired eyes. It was amazing how doing nothing could make me utterly exhausted.
“Jester isn’t dead,” he replied, his brow furrowing.
I stared at him. My mouth gaped open, but words refused to leave my lips.
“The king has been visiting him every day since he found out that you left. Why on Earth would you thin—” The guard was cut off as another man in uniform slammed an elbow into his side.
“Jester is alive?” I whispered.
My mind began whirling. Why would the king lie to me? Why would he want to hurt me so deeply when he had been visiting my old companion every day? And if Jester was alive, what did that mean for Andrew?
Chapter Thirty-Nine
For the first week, my time outside of my bedchambers was limited. I only went to the library for my own reasons, and my guards never questioned it. My old tutor no longer met me there, but I wasn't sure if it was under the king's orders or if he hated me as much as everyone else in the palace. Either way, my heart longed for his cynical eyes and the way he always smelled like tea and books. He might've not been the best companion, but he had been a great teacher, and I craved social contact more than I thought possible. I just wanted at least one thing in the palace to return back to normal, but my wish was not met, and I knew I wasn’t in a position to demand anything. I would sit in the library for a couple of hours, only staring at the words on the pages but not reading, while the guards milled around me uselessly. I knew they hated coming here because they found it tiresome and pointless, but I could not stand to look at the same four walls for seven days a week.
By the second week, I decided that I needed to touch and talk to a living creature that didn't hate me. I wanted to wait, unsure of how to play my cards after the king had lied to me about Jester, but my heart was growing weak with sadness, and I feared that I would either die of a broken heart or go crazy soon. I just needed to know that I mattered to something in this world, even if it wasn't human.
“Where is he?” I demanded when we walked into the barns. My horse's stall was clean but not stale. The straw and water were fresh, and his name plaque was still attached to the wood. But my horse was not inside.
“Dead,” James said flatly, flipping a dagger in his hand. He was trying to look bored. His brown eyes showed that those were not his true emotions, but I was still unable to read what he was actually feeling. He had looked like that since the day he dragged me back to the palace. I assumed he had been reassigned to me because he knew me best and knew all of my antics, but he hated the task.
“I know you're lying, and I know Archer lied too,” I retorted. “Take me to him, please.”
“Ah, so you can tell when someone is lying, can you? That seems like some kind of power. Like something a witch or alchemist would be able to do,” James taunted, no longer toying around with the blade. I knew that he wasn't completely serious, but the sarcasm was weak. He was insinuating something, but I couldn’t be bothered to search for his hidden meaning.
“Yes, James,” I said with a dramatic roll of my eyes which was the opposite of regal. “I am a witch. Now take me to my horse please.”
James watched me for a moment longer, almost like he was trying to see through me. But as he stared at me so intently, I wondered what he saw. It was clear he no longer saw me as the tiny slave girl who couldn't even fill out a corset. The smile that he had given me when I first saw myself in a mirror was now gone forever. Now, what did he see? What made him hate me so deeply when I felt like I had done nothing against him? Had I changed without being aware of it somehow? That seemed impossible. If there had been any changes, they were all for the sake of being a better queen.
“Fine,” he spat and turned away. I just picked up my skirt and followed him with as much happiness as my feeble heart could muster.
My old beast was tucked away in a paddock that was as far away from the palace as possible. I wouldn't have been able to see it from my bedroom window, and I would've never found it on my own either. Even though the king hadn't truly killed my horse, he was definitely trying to keep up the lie, and that set my teeth on edge. I didn’t understand why he wanted to hurt me so badly.
Yet, when Jester's moose-like head lifted from his lazy grazing and he let out a loud whinny, my heart softened, and the first smile in a long time broke across my face. The giant old work horse didn't hesitate. He kicked up his hind legs in a delighted little buck then took off towards me at a full gallop. It wasn't the most graceful thing I had seen by any stretch of the imagination, but seeing his mane and feathers flap in the wind as he raced towards me made me laugh out loud. A few paces from the wooden fence, he slowed down to a trot then a walk, and, as soon as he was within reaching distance, I threw my arms around his thick neck.
“Hello, old friend,” I whispered into his coat. He felt the same in my arms and had the familiar sweet smell of hay that made my heart rest easier.
The big beast just nuzzled my shoulder and lipped at my hair. It was like he was telling me he missed me too.
“Have you been good?” I cooed, rubbing his large cheeks. And, in those large eyes, I saw what I needed to see. That something on this pl
anet still loved me. Something thought I wasn't an evil creature.
I must've spent a solid hour out in the pasture with my horse. I didn't care that my three guards looked more exasperated by the second. I climbed through the fence, and I patted my giant horse all over. I checked his hooves for rocks and dirt, ran my fingers through his combed tail, and braided his mane as I told him how much I loved him and missed him. It was clear that he had missed me too because he wouldn't let me take five steps without coming after me, but it made me feel infinitely better knowing that he had been taken care of in my absence. Now, I just had to figure out why the king had felt obligated to lie to me and hurt me in such a way.
“We are returning to the palace now,” James demanded, not leaving any room for arguments.
And, for once, I didn't put up a fight. The sun was dipping below the horizon, and my horse was contently becoming sleepier with each passing moment. I didn't want to ruin this memory with bitter words. I rubbed his velvety muzzle one last time, promised I would return to him soon enough, and slipped back through the fence.
“Thank you,” I said to James.
His dark eyebrows rose up in surprise.
“For letting me see him,” I continued. “I know you didn't want to, but it means a lot to me to know that he's alright.”
James just grunted in response and led me back to the palace with the two other guards tailing behind.
That night, I finally managed to pick up my stitching and actually sew for a while. It seemed that Jester had pulled me out of my daze and made me a more functional human being again. I pricked my fingers several times, obviously out of practice, since I had been away for so long, but I was delighted at the progress nonetheless. Still, I wished I had Isabelle by my side to talk to with Lydia tucked away in the corner, huffing about how improper it was for a maid to be teaching a queen. Jasmine would've just laughed and rolled her eyes as she always did. Within a few minutes, I realized that I had begun stitching the outline of a horse, and with a happy smile, I decided it was time to retire to bed before I destroyed my work or my fingers.
A maid helped me undress and slip into a nightgown then left me sitting by the vanity as I tended to my own blonde hair. Since I was never seeing anyone of importance, it was not necessary for me to look as stunning as I had before so I could manage disassembling my updo by myself now. I hummed to myself as I retrieved the pins from my locks, putting them in a drawer that had glinting silver nestled at the back of it. After that, I brushed out the slowly strengthening golden strands until I heard my bedroom door creak open.
I expected a guard or a maid to rush in and claim they forgot something, but instead, my eyes met Archer's form in the mirror. I rose off the bench before I turned to face him and kicked the bench underneath the vanity.
He certainly looked better than the night that I decided that I could no longer live in the palace beside him. But, now that I was truly looking at him, I realized he didn't look as healthy as he had when we first met. His eyes weren't quite the right colour nor was his skin, and there seemed to be a subtle weakness about the way he moved. Still, he looked painfully handsome in his shirt and trousers. I pulled my eyes away, angry with where my mind had gone.
“What are you doing here so late?” I asked.
“We had a deal,” he replied, shutting the door behind him. As he moved closer to me, I was able to detect a slight amount of alcohol on his breath which was also evident in the lazy way his eyes moved over my barely-covered body. I wasn't sure if the way he looked at me made my skin crawl or made me want to shiver in delight and anticipation, though I knew what it should've been.
“Part of the deal was daily dinners together and getting to know the man who would father the child I would carry,” I countered, crossing my arms over my chest. I felt a little stronger with the protection my arms offered.
“Brave little witch, aren't you,” Archer purred. “Now, tell me, what did you think was going to happen? Tell me your plan, wife. It has obviously failed, so what's the harm?”
“I am not a witch,” I hissed back. “And there was never a plan.”
“Only a witch would know how to use alchemy in such a way,” Archer growled back, his eyes flashing with rage. “Now, answer my question, Willow.”
“There was no plan,” I spat again.
“Fine. Lie and deny all you'd like, but you still have a contract you must abide by,” he mused, taking a slow, patient step towards me.
His dark eyes moved over my chest, greedily soaking in what the sheer fabric of my night gown revealed from the places my arms couldn't cover. A shaky hand reached up—exposing the lack of confidence he felt—and caressed my cheek. The gesture was almost tender, and I had to fight the pleasurable sensation that swept through my body, but my eyes were closing in relaxation on their own accord. However, they burst open when his other hand tugged at the strings that kept the front of my nightgown closed.
“No,” I said, swatting his hands away from me. “You will not have me.”
“But I want you.” He pressed his body against me, forcing me back into the vanity. “I know I should hate you for everything that you have done to me, but I need you,” he confessed, reaching for my hips this time.
“I haven't done anything to you.” The words came out of my mouth, but I could feel myself being swayed by his words which caused me to panic.
I slammed my flat palms against his chest, hoping to push him back, but I only struck muscle, and he didn't even move. His eyes just dropped to look at my hands, looking tired. But his line of vision moved to the drawer that I had forgotten to shut, and his eyes widened with understanding and horror.
A moment later, I was thrown down onto the floor by his impossibly strong arms, the breath rushing out of my lungs as I hit the unrelenting floor. I weakly kicked my legs, screaming and shouting for him to get off me, wishing so hard I had the dagger in my hands instead. But, it didn't matter because he quickly neutralized my arms by yanking them behind my back. The move was so aggressive that I let out a scream of pain.
“Guards!” Archer shouted. His voice was loud but frightened.
At his call, the guards who had been ignoring my distressed screams burst through the door with their blades drawn. They rushed in, replacing Archer's unrelenting hands with their own and binding my wrists and ankles together with the same rough rope they used when they dragged me out of Riverstead. I just lay on the cold floor, face down, as I tried to catch my breath and keep my tears at bay.
“King Archer, you should take a closer look at this,” a guard whispered. He didn't sound much braver than my husband had.
I strained my neck hard—scratching my face on the floor—and managed to see a guard carefully holding the dagger in a soft cloth as he extended it towards the king. Archer's eyes narrowed in on it almost immediately, and his skin visibly paled.
“Take her to the dungeon. Now,” he ordered.
Chapter Forty
The dungeon was everything I had expected but worse than I could've imagined. Dark. Cold. Wet. Crawling with rats. I spent my night huddled on a small pile of straw, angrily eyeing the bucket that was in the other corner. My body was screaming in pain from the unforgiving floor, but I couldn't even wiggle around enough to alleviate the pressure points as my arms and legs were still tied together. I wasn't sure if the guards left me this way because they wanted me to suffer more or if the dagger had truly scared them so much, they thought I would be able to break down the solid door if left untied. Or maybe all of this torture was connected with the reason they all called me a ‘witch’.
I wished that I would doze off so I wouldn't have to think about what the morning would bring or the pain that moved through my entire being—my heart included—but my mind refused to settle, and I kept hearing the unknown creatures move just outside of my small metal door. Occasionally, I would hear a human groan, and that was much worse than any sound the rats could make. It was an unnecessary reminder that this was a place of
suffering for the lowest of people. Thieves and killers surrounded me.
And, now, I was one of them, but I still didn’t understand why.
I wondered why that blade had been so significant. Archer had seen that it was made out of silver, but what had he seen upon closer inspection that made him so upset? And what were the consequences that would come with my actions? He didn't seem to want to murder me due to my lack of pregnancy for the time being, so where did that leave me now?
I spent the remainder of the night curled up, trying to alleviate the cold and the aches, but I shivered until my body was exhausted and my teeth felt broken from chattering against one another. I was just thankful that I had not encountered a rat yet. Even when I had been a slave on the farm and loved almost all the animals on it, I had detested the disease-carrying creatures so intensely.
After what felt like years, a small amount of light streamed through the tiny slat that was far out of reach. It was morning. My fate would be arriving soon.
The guards yanked open the heavy door shortly after the sun had risen. I expected some water to be offered to soothe my dry mouth or some stale bread to sate the rumbling of my stomach, but I was not so lucky. Those were luxuries only a working slave could have, not to be granted to someone like me.
One guard grabbed my arms, the other my ankles, and I was lifted and carried through the castle like the corpse of an animal. It seemed that I was treated better as a slave than as a queen. Every maid, guard, and housekeeper that we passed stared at me with fury or pity, and it made my empty stomach twist. How I wished I was dead.
Eventually, we entered a room I had been in once before, and I let out a little sigh of relief that I was no longer in the public eye. But that relief was immediately replaced with dread when I realized where I was now as the guards tied my wrists behind my back again. The dark red walls I had once admired—thinking that they spoke of power and formality—now felt like they were closing around me as I kneeled down on the intricate wooden flooring. I bowed my head down, not wanting to look at the ornate ceiling or extravagant chandelier as I collected myself, trying to keep my eyes from watering in fear. I didn't have to look up to know that my husband would be sitting on the elegant throne that was perched on top of a short set of stairs, his eyes locked on me as he decided my fate.
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