by Esme Devlin
“Take her back to her room and tie her up,” he shouts. He’s shouting much louder than he needs to.
The men drag me away and I try to fight but they quickly get me under control.
“Face down on the bed,” he adds. “She won’t be able to sit down for a week by the time I’m finished with her.”
I’m dragged away with the sound of his laughter floating around the room.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SAPPHIRE
I don’t know how long I’ve been here.
Hours, at least.
The windows are shuttered so I can’t tell if the dawn has come yet, and the men who brought me didn’t bother to light any candles. The room is pitch dark.
They used torches for light while they bound my wrists above my head to the bed.
I barely even fought them.
The straps were already there on the bed, as if the whole thing was already waiting for me.
And now all that’s left to do is wait for the inevitable to happen.
My mind wanders to dark places. The woman who was downstairs and what became of her. The winner who thought he was going to Utopia and what became of him. The way Baron went from gently stroking my hair to dragging me across the floor by it within the blink of an eye.
What does he want from me?
A brainless pet that watches when he says watch and doesn’t speak unless spoken to?
I can’t be that girl. There were girls at the Carnival strong enough to do that, but I am not one of them.
Why didn’t he choose one of them?
Why me?
We both know I’ve been sheltered my entire life.
I thought I was only as sheltered as everyone else, but I was wrong.
I’m not mentally strong enough to watch men be brutally killed in front of me, and women violently raped.
I promised myself last night I would be strong. I would be good. I’d do as he said, and I’d try to learn as much as possible. But I honestly don’t know if I’m capable of that.
The door clicks open, pulling me out of my thoughts and freezing every muscle in my body. Except for my heart, which only increases hammering.
Footsteps across the wooden floor, slow and calculated, signal it’s indeed him. The sound of a lamp switching on illuminates the room slightly, and I turn around just as he turns towards me.
His breathing is heavy, and there is a sheen to his clothing. Like he is wet. Water or blood? I’d like to think it is water, but he already told me what he was going to do after the fight. Of course it is blood. And that knowledge makes him more terrifying than any time we’ve crossed paths previously.
He walks slowly to the side of the bed and sits down, watching me but saying nothing.
What do I do?
I can’t escape — I’ve already tried. Screaming feels ridiculous. Crying feels pitiful. Begging feels pointless.
What do I have against a man like that?
Nothing.
The truth of it sinks in like a physical thing, spreading through my body and coursing through my veins like blood. I have nothing. I’m weak. Powerless.
He can do whatever he wants to me.
Well, to my body at least.
That thought triggers another one, and I realise there is one thing I can keep for myself. My mind. Yes.
That is the one thing that he can’t have. No matter what he does physically, I can always resist him mentally.
Ruby explained it to me years ago, but I never properly understood it until now. You build a castle in your mind, and it is your place. No one else’s. You never let them in. They can do whatever they want outside, but you keep yourself safe inside.
He can’t get in.
When Baron reaches a hand down to push my hair back, for the first time I don’t flinch away from him.
I stand my ground.
He lets out a low hum in his chest and slides off the bed, getting down on his knees and facing me.
The silence drags out between us for a long time, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from asking what he wants. But I think that is what he wants.
He wants me to break first.
And I won’t do it.
He’s just dragging it out for his own enjoyment.
Let him, I tell myself. I am safe. I’m in a place where he can’t hurt me.
“Tell me, sweet girl, why don’t I see fear in your eyes? It was there when I walked in the room. And now it is there no longer.”
I stay quiet.
“I will have my answer,” he says, his tone a warning.
“Maybe I realised being scared of you is pointless,” I tell him.
He laughs at that and drags his hand down the back of my head, stopping when he gets to my neck.
“Pointless? What if I told you it was the only thing keeping you alive?”
“Then I’d tell you to kill me. Get it over with.”
His laugh only increases.
Yet again, I find myself in a game with him. I don’t know how it started, and the only certainty I have is that I don’t know how it ends.
“Kill you? You are so convinced I want that for you. I’ll let you in on a little secret if it means you’ll go back to being afraid of me…”
He shifts his position now and climbs back up on the bed, lying down beside me an inch or two away.
I want nothing more than to shy away from him, and the blood covering his clothes, but that is what the terrified me would do.
“I can’t promise you that,” I say.
He lets out another low hum, as if he’s considering something. “Pity. I was so beginning to enjoy our deals. Well, I shall tell you anyway and hope for the best. I am not going to kill you.”
“Why?”
He sniffs. “Believe me, I would tell you the answer if only I knew it.”
“You’re going to put me in one of those cages, like the other woman?”
He laughs. “Of course not! I’d rather see you dead than in there.”
“Then what do you want?”
He runs a finger down my spine, making me shiver. “I want you all for myself. Every part of you. Your body. Your mind. Your tears. Your fears. Your dreams. Your adoration. Every piece of you, all for me.”
I let out a sigh and shake my head. “I will never love you.”
“Oh my sweet girl. You don’t need to love me,” he says. “I never asked for such an impossibility. You do need to fear me, though. You need to want me and wish that you didn’t.”
“No.” No. I won’t give him that. Not now that I’ve finally found the key to my survival. Not now I have my castle, and I don’t need to be afraid of him anymore.
He chuckles. “No?”
“No. I’ll never want you.”
His finger trails lower still and turns to a hand, and he rubs the curve where my thigh meets my ass. “Oh my poor naive girl. I would not be so sure if I was you. I haven’t even tried yet.”
“Try all you want. You will never be anything more than a monster to me.”
“Well, lets see, shall we? Tell me, what would make you happy?”
“What?”
“What part of that did you fail to understand?”
“I… I don’t know. You letting me go I guess.”
“Impossible,” he says dismissively. “Even if I did, you wouldn’t be any safer. The world outside would eat a little thing like you alive. Try again.”
This feels like a trick question. Like whatever I say, he will just use it against me and do the opposite. “I don’t understand. You said I wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week after you’d finished with me. And now you’re asking what will make me happy?”
He laughs and lifts my dress up, exposing my bare flesh. I inhale a sharp breath, mentally kicking myself for reminding him about something he’d obviously forgotten.
He cracks his hand down hard across my cheeks, ripping the breath from my lungs while he chuckles with glee. And then he rubs the sting away. “Done,�
�� he says. “Consider your lesson learned. It was merely bravado and deceit, played out for the benefit of every man and woman watching in that room. We can’t let them think you are special to me, can we? I thought you might have worked that out by now.”
“How would I have worked that out?”
“Have I ever hurt you?”
I almost say yes. Yes, he did, but then I remember that was only a dream. “No. Not really.”
“Exactly,” he says, still rubbing the sting away and making me squirm.
“That doesn’t mean you won’t, though.”
“Hmm. I suppose you’re right. I might hurt you. But only if I think you want or need me to.”
“That will never happen,” I argue.
“I’ll be the judge. Anyway, I digress. What would make you happy?”
For him to leave me alone? I almost let the words slip out, but I catch myself. Don’t be stupid, Sapphire. Yes, this could be a trick. But also, he might actually give me something I want. I can’t gamble that away just to spite him.
I need to be smart and use it to help me.
“Learning things makes me happy,” I tell him.
“Oh, how perfect. You have a curious mind, just as I do. Well, what kinds of things would you like to learn? Shall I bring you books? Teach you Russian? School you in the art of fellatio?” He chuckles after the last one, clearly finding himself amusing.
“Answer my questions,” I suggest.
“Hmm.” He gets up from the bed and begins pacing the room in front of me. “I’ll think about it. Knowledge is power, after all, and I enjoy you having none of that. But, I do want to please you. Yes, I will sleep on it.”
He walks towards the door, as if he meant what he said quite literally. “Baron?”
He pauses. “Yes, dear?”
I jerk my wrists, reminding him I’m still tied to the bed on my stomach. “Can you let me go?”
“No. No, as much as I enjoyed my last suicide shift, I do think I’d prefer to sleep tonight. But, I almost forgot. Tell me, how do you feel about me?”
“I… I hate you.”
My body freezes as I wait to see if he will lose his temper. But he merely lets out an amused chuckle. “Quite right.”
The room plunges into darkness with the sound of the lamp switching off, and then I hear the door close and let out the breath I’d been holding.
Sleep does not come to me easily.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SAPPHIRE
I awake the next morning to find another gift on my pillow, but before opening it I immediately scan the room to make sure I’m alone this time.
He’s not in here, but my wrists are no longer bound above my head and the shutters are open.
It looks like it’s dusk outside.
Stretching my sore arms, I pull back the covers to find my stockings and dress have been removed, and I’m lying in a small silk nightdress. Black, of course, like everything else.
The fact he seems to have an aversion to anyone else seeing me tells me it was quite clearly him who changed my clothes. The thought makes me shiver.
I reach over and grab the gift, which is nothing more than a piece of paper, and unfold it.
Dearest Sapphire
Maxim informed me you could read. I do so hope you can also write. You’ll find writing implements in the desk across from the bed. I have also left some books for you, personal favourites of mine I think you will enjoy.
There are clothes in the tall dresser. You should be appropriately dressed at all times, and you will remember to paint your face. Why? Because it makes me happy. That is the shared goal between us now, is it not?
You have free rein of my home. You may explore the house and the gardens as you wish, with some exceptions. The lower floors are entirely off limits. Should I catch you wandering where you are not supposed to be, well, then I would not be very happy at all. I’ll take the opportunity to remind you that you will not like the consequences of making me unhappy.
I have been patient with you, but do not think to test that.
My guards will send for you when I require your attentions. Until then, be happy, my sweet girl.
Your faithful servant,
Baron.
Three times I read the letter, the same points standing out to me each time.
You have free rein of my home.
So… I am not a prisoner then. Well, I guess I am. But I am not to stay locked inside this room, at least.
That’s good.
It means I can study the place and learn if there are any weak spots or means to escape.
I still haven’t exactly worked out where I am escaping to, but I will. Hopefully. If Baron answers some of my questions. I will need to be careful in how I word things, but I’ve been careful my whole life. I know I can do it.
The second thing, though.
When I require your attentions.
Something about the wording is strange, and I can’t really put my finger on why. Then again, most things that come out of his mouth are strange. He doesn’t speak the way most people do. He is clearly intelligent, and the fact he can read and write, like me, means he’s had schooling. From what I understand, that is quite a rarity.
Yes, he is definitely different. But how? Why?
My mind is struggling to fit all the pieces together, and my stomach is growling. I can’t remember the last time I had something to eat. I fold the letter up and put it away inside the writing desk, still not sure if I’ll reply. He hinted that I should, but I don’t really have anything to write to him.
I cast a glance towards the pile of books he left for me. His personal favourites. It is hard to imagine a man like Baron reads books, let alone has favourites. I’m not that well-read. The things I learned of the world came mostly from old magazines and newspapers, not books. Books, like women and artwork, are a rarity — the ones that still survive holed up and locked away in private collections.
There are two books in the pile, one black and one an aged red colour. It is the red one that draws my eye. I lift the black one off first, East of the Sun and West of the Moon, and uncover Cupid and Psyche.
I’ll read them later.
With that sorted, I wash myself in the cold shower and put on some clothes, then I slip out of the room into the dark corridor and try to remember which way is downstairs.
Baron was not exaggerating when he told me his house was difficult to navigate. The building seems to go on forever, with corridors that lead to dead ends, and stairwells that have been bricked up.
It doesn’t help that the lighting is so temperamental. One minute it is on, and then the only warning before being plunged into darkness are a few flickers before you’re scrambling to find the nearest wall.
I don’t like this place.
The carnival is a maze too, of course. But it’s a maze I ran a thousand times as a child. I knew the layout like the back of my hand. Here, every time I think I’ve begun to get my bearings, I turn a corner and see the opposite of what I was expecting to see.
People avert their eyes when they see me coming. I ask for directions, and they pretend I don’t exist.
I wander for hours in search of the kitchen to find some food, and by the time I find it I’m weak with hunger and feel nauseous.
A man gestures for me to sit down, without saying a word or even glancing at me. Some time later, he returns with two salted boiled eggs and an apple. I don’t think I have ever eaten so quickly in my life.
Feeling slightly better, I continue on with my plan of trying to find my bearings.
If I can just get back to the main entrance, then there is a door that will lead me outside.
I check doors on the way, many of which are locked. The ones that do open are often too dark inside to see anything, and so I continue on and try to make a mental note to come back when it’s light outside.
But then I find one that isn’t dark.
There is a large fire on the back wall of the room
, casting shadows on each of the walls opposite. The walls are lined floor to ceiling with books, and in the centre sits some chairs. There is a dark wooden desk that spans almost the width of the large room, and on the other side a matching one, though this appears to be set up for meetings and such with many chairs around it.
With the room seemingly unoccupied, I step inside and let the door fall closed behind me.
His office, maybe?
I look around, touching things at random and trying to figure out where to start. This is dangerous, of course. He said I had free rein of the house, but I don’t think he meant to include snooping around his office as part of that.
But I suspect if there are answers to be had, then this is the place to find them. Actually, not answers. I still need to figure out the questions.
His desk is covered in paperwork, and that seems like the logical place to start. My fingers brush over the papers, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Many of them aren’t in English — in fact, they’re not even using the lettering system. There are maps and numbers. So many numbers.
Maps.
I pick one up, searching desperately for something familiar to me. The Carnival? This place? What is this place even called?
“Enjoying yourself?”
My head snaps up as I drop the map back on the desk. Baron looms in the doorway like a walking nightmare, the size and height of him almost filling it.
I clear my throat. “You said I could explore as I wished.”
He chuckles and steps into the room. “I did indeed, hence the question — are you enjoying yourself?”
I watch him as he walks slowly towards me, unsure what the correct answer is. Perhaps there is none. “No. I can’t make any sense of it.”
Baron slumps down in one of the chairs around the fireplace, angling his body towards me. “Do you think I would allow it if you could?”
“You said you would answer my questions,” I remind him.
“I said I’d consider it. I even gave you the implements with which to write them down, and yet you have not asked any. Come, sit with me.”