CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
VICTORIA
I don’t want to open my eyes. Am I dead? No, surely I wouldn’t be in this much pain if I were. I try to shift on the bed from my front to my back but freeze the second that I experience a ricochet of agony so blinding, it shoots through my body. I cry out. I can’t help it, which aggravates the wound on my tongue. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth — I’ve opened a laceration.
“Wait, I’ll help you” ‒a gentle feminine voice offers ‒ “you’re still very bruised.”
“Amelia?” I recognize her soft tones at once.
“Yes,” she replies, and I feel the cover’s being shifted from my back. “Do you want to sit up?”
“Please,” I respond, and she helps me to turn over and sit. She places a soft cushion under my bottom despite the fact that I’m on my bed. I feel sick from the pain, and it makes my head spin. “What happened?” My mind feels foggy. I have a vague recollection of a mask and name calling.
I retch. The names were so cruel. Amelia puts a small bowl in front of me, and I dry heave over it. Every jolt of my body sends aches through me. I have nothing to bring up as I haven’t eaten or drunk for what seems like ages. I look down at my hand and see a cannula in it. I look up at Amelia and try to speak, but I’m breaking down.
“Breathe. It’s alright. You're safe.” She touches my hand. “Do you remember the punishment they gave you?”
I look into the haze that is my brain and remember the scold’s bridle and the horsewhips. I blank the name calling. I’m not going to remember that again.
“Yes, they whipped me.”
She nods.
“You were in bad shape. We thought you may die. The Earl called for his doctor. You have some deep wounds, which were stitched up. They gave you morphine to help with the pain and fluid to keep you hydrated. That’s why you have this.” She looks at the device in my hand. “It was thought best to let you sleep for a few days to allow your body to start healing. They stopped all the drugs this morning. I have some extra strength painkillers here if you need them.” This time, she holds up a bottle.
“Yes, please.” I don’t hesitate. Give me all the drugs you can to numb the agony in my body. The morphine drip sounds good. Maybe I could get hooked back up on that.
Amelia hands me two pills and helps me sit forward to drink some water. My throat is raw, and the water mixes with the blood in my mouth. It’s not a pleasant experience.
“They’ve advised you not to talk too much. The bridle had a spike on it, and when you passed out, it cut your tongue. It was rusty due to its age, and they feared you may lose your tongue to infection, but it seems alright. You need to rest it to let it heal.” I take her advice and nod my response rather than speak it.
I collapse my head back against the headboard of the bed, I’m grateful for the plethora of cushions that cocoon me. I already feel tired from moving just a few times.
“How long?” I ask, keeping my words to a minimum, trying not to move my tongue. I think Amelia understands me, even if I do sound stupid.
“You’ve been asleep for three days. They’ve allowed me to look after you. Well, Nicholas said I could. The Duke, he said to leave you in your own filth. I don’t like that man.” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she whispers.
“I agree with you. Don’t be sorry.”
“I shouldn’t say it, though.” She looks up and around the room.
“Cameras,” I say.
“Yes. The other brother told me to be careful.”
“Other brother?” I’m confused.
She leans forward and whispers into my ear,
“William.”
“You’ve seen him.” I’m still trying not to move my tongue when I speak.
“He’s been helping me look after you. He keeps to the side, so he can’t be seen. He seems nice. A little inappropriate, the first thing he told me was that I had a bottom like a Kardashian. I’m assuming that’s a nice compliment. He was smiling politely when he said it.”
I try to stifle the laugh I feel, but when a little escapes, I regret it instantly. Damn, this pain’s terrible.
“I don’t think he’s that good with social etiquette. He’s nice, though.” I give up on the no talking. The more I do it, the looser my mouth’s feeling, and the taste of blood has gone. Of course, it could be that the painkillers have kicked in because my bottom suddenly seems to be less painful as well. “I can assure you that a Kardashian's bottom is a good one. Don’t you know who they are?”
“Not really. I’m guessing they’re celebrities, but I didn’t really have a chance to follow all that growing up. My father made sure I was prepared for being Nicholas’ wife.”
“You knew this would happen?” I ask.
“Yes. Didn’t you?” I shake my head. “It must’ve been such a shock.”
“Just a little. I’ve always been kept hidden away, but I didn’t know why, until I came here. Makes perfect sense now.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Yes, evidently, as women we’re sexually wanton. Even allowing us to go to the library on our own will risk our virginity because of all the orgies we are likely to have on the way.”
I laugh again — it hurts.
“Oh don’t make me laugh.”
“Sorry. The tasks are all prescribed in the documentation of this society — my father made me practice them, all my life. I went through every alternative.” She goes quiet and looks at the striped rug on my bedroom floor.
“You’ve had this done to you.” It hits me. “Every alternative. No punishment, locked in your room without food and water” ‒I gulp‒ “hit twenty times with a birch and the bridle?”
“He didn’t use a birch. We didn’t have one. He had a cane, though. It’s only one stick instead of a few.” She holds my hand.
“Still doesn’t stop it from hurting any less or make it any more right. It angers me that these men think they can get away with doing this.” I want to jump up from the bed and rant and rage. I want to storm to the nearest man with a horse whip, whack him across the back hundreds of times, and see how he likes it.
“Stay calm,” Amelia pleads.
“We'll get through this. They won’t always win.” I move my hand so that it wraps around hers.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I know what comes next. You don’t.”
Shit, I hadn’t thought of that.
“Amelia?”
“We're lucky because we only have to do one task, but the original wife had to do all three. Fire, sex, death.”
“Fire, sex, death,” I repeat.
She looks up to where the camera is and shuts her eyes. I shuffle forward, ignoring the pain. If I can get some insight into what happens next, then I might be able to plan for it.
“You’ll be fine. He won't give the one to you that’ll destroy you. He loves you too much.”
“What?” I’m baffled by her comment. “Amelia, what do you mean?”
She doesn’t have a chance to answer me as the secret door in my room opens, and William appears from the shadows. His face is flushed red, and he is carrying a torch.
“You have to come now.” He makes a grab for Amelia’s hand.
“William?” She shakes him off.
“There’s no time for arguments,” he commands. “He knows she’s awake.”
Both of them look at me.
“What? Who knows I’m awake?”
“Good luck.” Amelia allows William to lead her into the secret corridor.
“Good luck? With what? With whom?” I shout at them and wish I wasn’t trapped in this bed, but my battered body won’t allow me to move.
My bedroom door bursts open, and there’s Nicholas. His brows are furrowed, and he looks like he’s about to explode with anger.
“Cowards,” I whisper to myself about William and Amelia and say a little pray to the pain gods to let me pass out again. I curse them in the next breath when I’m still awake. Oh well.
“Earl Lullington. What can I do for you?