His pressure on my abdomen increased slightly. “Do you still think of me as a monster?”
No… Satan himself. “How can I? You’ve kept your promises.”
His need was evident in his tightened words. “I have done terrible things over these centuries… acted out of hatred and revenge. I know that you… Roam… are not responsible for the past. I will never punish you, or take my anger out on you, in that way again.”
If he wasn’t holding me, I would have been on the floor. My mouth opened, and then closed, as I struggled to find the right words through my astonishment. He watched me carefully, reaching into my hair to pull at the pins until the long, chestnut tresses fell over my shoulders and back in waves. I knew what he wanted, my heart sinking as I felt him lift and turn me, pushing me to lay back over his desk.
The next two weeks passed slowly, but Troy proved true to his words, gentling his touch and keeping his anger at bay. I saw less and less of Logan as he spent his days outdoors, on the battlefields, training with the army.
Troy ordered that we tour the kingdom together, receiving the people as their true king and queen. After weeks of working with the public, I learned that I had earned a reputation for being both fair and compassionate.
“You are making quite a debut, Roam.”
I turned to him as the carriage jostled over the road. “I’m glad that I can… change things for them. If we could look past ourselves and this prophecy and realize that we have… a power… to change bad things…,” I looked down at my feet, and he smirked.
“You tried to change the past, didn’t you. Through the fountain.”
“No, I was told that we couldn’t.” I was careful not to use West’s name. “I would have loved to not only step foot on the Titanic, for example, but to also change the course of the ship. Do you know what I mean? Save lives?”
Troy smirked. “Yes.” He shrugged. “The course of history can’t be altered without changing the present significantly. I would think that he told you that.”
“Yes, my lord.” I dropped the subject, worried that more references to West would ignite his anger.
People lined the streets waiting to meet me, eager to give me flowers and vegetables from their growing gardens. I smiled at them, shaking hands and accepting their thanks for “bringing the sun.” One little girl with a mass of red curls came running to me, throwing her arms around me before the guards could stop her. Bending down, I lifted her into my arms, hugging her tightly.
She looks like Eva.
Troy watched me as I kissed her forehead before setting her to her feet. “Be good, and help your parents,” I advised. The little girl smiled, handing me a wrinkled piece of paper before scurrying back to her waiting mother.
I looked down at the paper, unfolding the edges to see her drawing.
The sun.
We stayed at a residence three days from the castle. The hotel-like environment of Lord Mason’s castle was far from a Hilton, but the luxury provided by the slew of servants and maids rivaled any five-star establishment.
The lord of the castle was beyond thrilled to have us stay with him. The women helped unpack my trunk, finding a light, champagne-colored nightgown with a matching, silken robe. Hours passed, and I began to pace the strange bedroom, wringing my fingers anxiously.
Where is he? The moon was high in the sky as the door finally opened, Troy shuffling in with a buoyant smirk on his lips. I hurried to him, searching his face. “Where were you?” I demanded, panic and relief blowing through my lips in breathy words.
He took a step back, lifting his eyes. “I played cards with Lord Mason. Were you… waiting for me?”
I covered my mouth with my hand, my breath catching in my throat. Staring at his boots, I struggled with the confusion of the moment.
Was I waiting for him? Why? I hate him…
“Roam,” he lowered his lips to mine, and my betraying body responded, my hands unbelievably reaching for his shoulders. He groaned, and I searched for pleasure, any kind of satisfaction, even for a few moments. He sensed my eager response, laughing playfully as he moved his lips to my neck. “Finally.”
I woke the next morning before he did, letting tears stream down the sides of my face. Who am I? What have I become? Self-loathing shame consumed me, sending me to the bathroom to search for some kind of blade. I found a straight razor above the sink.
Sitting on the edge of the giant, whirlpool tub, I extended my left arm, where the numbers used to be. Aiming first for my wrist, I stopped, moving upward to just below my elbow. Practice first. A small amount of pressure was all it took to slice through my skin, and the split second before the awareness rushed through my nerves, I anticipated the pain.
The blood was easily controlled with a hand towel; the next cut, just below the first, made me drop the razor; I’d pressed too hard, and thick droplets of blood slid down my arm and stained the skirt of my nightgown.
Holding the towel over the cuts, I found that my breathing evened, and my thoughts cleared.
Days later we returned to the castle, and a cold psychosis engulfed me. I no longer allowed myself to think of anything but survival during the degrading gratification of Troy’s touch, and of the day I would watch the life disappear from his eyes.
Use the razor; kill him.
I thought through the process. Cut his throat, deep enough for him to bleed to death. Create confusion; find Logan, run for the door.
For three days, I plotted, spending each moment visualizing the events. First, I’d move to the bathroom for the razor, and then slip back into bed. Once I was sure he was sound asleep, I’d slice his neck. I’d hide the razor between the mattresses, open the balcony door as though an intruder had entered, and scream for the guards. As they saw to Troy, I’d sneak out and find Logan.
Too many flaws; too many ways to get caught.
He was a light sleeper, and never came to the room intoxicated.
What if Troy wakes up? What if I don’t cut deep enough, and he lives?
What if I can’t find Logan?
If you fail… who will protect you from his horrible army of men? I realized that though Troy’s touch was revolting, he was the only one protecting me from being devoured by the foul men in his guard.
Wait.
When my deceitful body would take any kind of pleasure from him, I would lock the door of the bathroom while he slept, using the hidden straight-razor to cut myself. Sometimes, it would take three or four incisions before the guilt would finally subside, and I could rationalize my own body’s natural instincts and responses. Fearing he’d find the cuts or the razor, I carefully began to choose the places I would cut, making sure to avoid areas not covered by the gowns that I wore every day.
Though I was given a calendar after I discovered I was pregnant, I still continued to carve the tick marks behind the bed, into the wall. As I touched the walls, I realized the stones were uneven and jutted out in places. Maybe a secret passage? That day, I combed the entire room, touching every inch of the walls and climbing on chairs to reach as far as I could toward the ceiling. I moved armoires with all of my strength, sliding them across the floor.
The next morning, I woke to aching muscles in every part of my body, and decided that my arms and legs were weak from not walking or swimming. I scratched that morning’s tally mark into the wall, pulling a diagonal slant across four other scratches.
Eighty days.
I needed some type of exercise, and I’d convince Troy it was for the sake of his child. A soldier told me that he was in a meeting, so I rushed to his private chambers, ignoring the guards and beating against the heavy wooden door until Troy’s inner servant finally turned the latch.
The long table, edged with more than twelve men, hosted all eyes turned in my direction. Troy stood at the head of the table, and I watched his expression go from surprise to annoyance.
“My queen.” His voice was clearly bothered, but polite. I stood straight, linking my restless fi
ngers together.
“Before you leave for the other world, my lord, I would like to share an idea that came to me last night,” I said, trying my best to spark his interest.
“Ah yes, last night.” An ailing smirk touched the corner of his mouth.
Keeping my practiced control, I rolled my shoulders back. “With the treaty and the oil we are to receive in the trade, maybe you could bring a vehicle back with you. A car… or a truck… as a prototype,” my eyes scanned the room, settling on the man to his immediate right.
His blue eyes were light, like Troy’s, and he raised them as they swept over my face. He was young, no more than twenty-five or twenty-six, but his square jaw gave him years to add to his appearance. Brown hair was cropped very close to his head; broad shoulders, and long, dark eye lashes.
For the first time since I’d come to this terrible place, my mind stirred naturally with interest. He regarded me with amusement, sitting back against the winged chair.
“The inclined… planes… are equipped to hold vehicles,” I ambled softly, my eyes darting to the man twice before finally locking on Troy.
“William, what do you think of my wife’s ideas?”
William… this young man controls his finances? He raised his eyebrows, as if considering, and then finally slid his chair back, standing.
“I don’t believe I’ve been formerly introduced to her majesty,” he said, his voice much lower than I expected.
The oddity of the situation was not lost on the members of his council. Troy moved between us, his eyes never leaving my face.
“William, my wife and queen… Roam.”
“Your majesty.” He bowed.
“Roam, this is my son, Will.”
Nearly bowled over by his admission, I started, looking from Troy’s face to Will’s.
“Illegitimate son.” Troy added cruelly.
I cringed at Troy, gripping the skirt of my deep, red gown in my fingers. “So classy.”
Will burst into laughter, his mouth a wide O with enjoyment. “You’re right- she speaks her mind,” he grinned at me. “My father has found his match.”
Troy relented, but only slightly. “Roam, I will discuss your ideas and let you know the outcome. For now, I will leave you to planning the celebration for when I return.”
“Celebration?” Will’s eyes remained on me, and I looked down at my feet nervously.
“Roam carries my child. My heir,” he said proudly, and a hum of congratulations rolled around the table.
Through the noise, Will raised one eyebrow. “Legitimate heir, no less.”
I smiled, my lips fighting under the pressure of the foreign expression. I couldn’t remember the last time I had really smiled, but I was sure it was not in this place.
Troy watched us closely, ignoring the shouts of congratulations. “You’ll see that she does not exceed budget, Will.”
“Of course, father.”
Father, so informal. I backed to the door, and Troy moved to me, drawing me aside as he closed the door on the room of advisors.
“Your intrusion was inexcusable.”
“You’re right, as always, my lord,” I conceded quickly, giving him pause as he began to turn. “I wanted to ask you if I may walk… or swim… or do some kind of exercise. I lost a baby… before. I want to do everything I can to care for my body.”
He listened, his fingers dancing at his belt where he kept a sword. “You used to fence. Since I refuse for you to have a weapon, I will allow you to swim. Before I leave, I’ll make sure your maids provide you with a swimming suit and an armed escort to the pool.” I lifted my eyes in surprise as his eyes narrowed. The castle has a pool? “You will never interrupt me or my affairs again.”
“I’m sorry. I just thought a vehicle would-…,”
He cut me off with a sharp exhale. “It’s a public place, the inclined plane. I sneak on, I disappear. Don’t you think a missing car would be noticeable?”
I listened, realizing as he spoke that he was absolutely right. “I… never thought…,”
He pressed me against the wall, devouring my lips with his. I struggled to catch my breath until he finally lifted his face from mine, growling. “You’re a child. Do not confuse the liberties that I have given you in the courtroom with the affairs of my advisors. I allow you to entertain me with your ideas, but ultimately, you know nothing… except how to please me in the bedroom.”
With that, he turned back to the meeting room, slamming the door hard enough to shake the frame.
My temper, always ignited at an insult to my intelligence, flared as I ran from the hall. Armed guards stopped me at every exit; I was confined to the castle without permission to leave.
My first instinct was to return to the bedroom. Am I that beaten, that I run right back to prison? Instead, I turned suddenly, hurrying down a stone stairwell. I knew the guards were close at my heels, but they did nothing to prevent me from descending into the lower bowels of the castle.
At the foot of the stairs, I stopped suddenly. The halls became a catacomb of passages, breaking into a labyrinth. I tried to choose a path through the maze, but a voice from behind startled me.
“You don’t want to be down here alone, trust me,” he said, pushing past the guards. Will looked at the two armed soldiers, pointing to the top of the stairs. “Go on, I’ll escort her back to her rooms.”
The guards turned without hesitation. “Yes, your highness.”
I watched them walk back up the stairway, looking at Will in surprise. “Highness? They treat you like a prince?”
“I am a prince, legitimate or not,” he teased, winking before joining me. “What are you looking for down here?”
Taking a breath, I decided to be honest, knowing that I’d be punished for whatever I did wrong in Troy’s eyes, anyway. “I’m looking for Logan. For my friend.”
“My uncle,” he confirmed.
“I guess. If you believe in prophecies, reincarnation, and immortal souls.”
“You do not?” He gestured to a path to the left, and I followed next to him nervously.
“Of course I do. Why do you think I’m in this stupid mess?”
He regarded me with a sideways glance, and I jumped as a loud crash sounded ahead, followed by a man’s screaming moan. He reached for me, steadying my elbows. “I told you, it’s not safe down here.”
“What was that?”
“Dungeon.” I stopped, searching his eyes to determine if he was being sarcastic. He grinned. “What, you do not believe me?”
I shrugged. “Nothing surprises me anymore.”
He considered my words, reaching for my hand. “A life with no surprises. That is sad.”
Stiffening, I let him take my hand, leading me into a sharp left. “You have no idea what my life is like. This… hell… is not my life.”
Gripping my hand even tighter, he swung us both into a room, slamming the heavy door behind him. Searching the small space, I realized we were in some kind of jail cell with no doors or windows, and only a thin pallet with a dirty mattress.
My heart stopped.
How could I have been so trusting?
“Wait,” he whispered as I reared backwards, trying to pull on the door. “Wait, majesty… I will not hurt you. This is the only place I can speak to you in private, and we only have minutes.”
“I’ll kill you if you touch me,” I yanked on the door, my hands shaking, but he held it firmly closed.
“Logan asked me to protect you,” he rushed, blocking the door. “We’re working together. I am trying to get you both to the door.”
I chose that moment, adrenaline pumping, to deliver a potent kick to his groin.
He doubled over, gripping himself while holding one arm out in defense. “Damn it,” he let out a low hiss, glaring at me painfully.
I took a step back, my mind turning conspiracy theories over and over again. “Your words are treasonous. I would never betray the king.”
He moved toward me, g
ripping my upper arms firmly. “I’m not trying to trick you. I want the throne,” he hurried as I tried to struggle away.
I stilled, searching his eyes. “Treason.”
“Believe what you wish. I won’t hurt you, but I don’t want you here. That baby will usurp all of my efforts to attain the throne.”
I covered my middle protectively. “You think that you can fight the entire army?”
Will tilted his head. “I won’t have to… when they answer to me.”
Lowering my voice to a whisper, I looked down. “Take your hands off of me.”
He let go and stepped back. I straightened. “I need for you to plan this celebration, but make it a masque.”
“A masque?”
“Costumes. Masquerade.”
“Why?”
His face lowered to mine, his deep voice barely a rumble in his chest. “I have someone to hide.”
With that he turned the latch, pushing me back into the hall.
I followed him to the stairway at breakneck speed, and at the last moment he grabbed my elbow, lifting me to the first step.
Troy rounded the corner, staring at us both. “What are you doing down here?”
“She was looking for Logan.”
I scowled at Will, wrenching my elbow away. “I just wanted to see that he was safe.”
His hand replaced Will’s at my arm, and he pulled me up the stairs. “He’s in the hall. Do not ever come down here again, do you understand? I can’t protect you down here. Some of these prisoners are lunatics.”
Like their king. Surprised by his genuine concern, I nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
“Go swim, order your favors and plan your party. I’ve given you something to occupy your time with, so you should be thankful.”
“Thank you, my lord. I am.”
He turned on his heel, Will following him. I took a calming breath, watching his group of advisors walk together from the meeting. They stopped to look at me in the great corridor. At that moment, Logan and two other soldiers entered the hall, turning in our direction.
Rise (Roam Series, Book Three) Page 5