I wiggle and thrash my body around as the man pulls me from beneath the bed, but he’s much stronger than I am.
“Feisty little thing,” the man says. He hauls me to my feet and whirls me around, pinning my arms between my back and his chest. I’m stuck now. He wraps a thick, muscular arm over my stomach, yanking me tightly against him. “Don’t move, sweetheart,” he says. “You wouldn’t want to get hurt.”
“Fuck you,” I spit.
“And she’s ill-mannered,” the second man says. The two men guide me roughly out of my bedroom and in the main room where my father is standing beside the biggest, tallest, handsomest man I have ever seen in my life.
It must be Forwal.
It has to be.
He’s taller than I expected; his head almost reaches the ceiling. His shoulders are broad and he’s wearing a snug-fitting shirt that shows off his muscles. The shirt is tucked into a pair of pants that are also too tight and I close my eyes before I have a chance to truly finish looking at him.
This is the man who is ruining my father’s life.
This is the man who is about to ruin my life.
I can’t be attracted to him. That’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong. I can’t be turned on by the way these men are treating me roughly, by the way they’re forcing me to do their bidding. In fairytales, the princesses are always innocent and sweet. They’re never bad or dirty. They never have unclean thoughts about men. They never have dark desires.
Not like me.
“Please,” my father says. “Leave her alone. I’ll do anything you want. Anything!”
“I’m afraid that your word is no longer any good,” Forwal says. I hear him take a step toward me. “Considering the promises you made me just three months ago. You may promises to pay that you have failed to keep, Alerion.”
“I’ll do better,” my father says. “I just need more time.”
“Time is something I will not give you,” Forwal moves closer. I can hear him, smell him. I think if I reach out, I’ll be able to touch him, but my arms are still pinned behind me. With my eyes squeezed shut, all of my other senses are heightened, and I’m very aware of how my body must look at this moment.
My breasts are pushed outward: an offering, an invitation. My lips are pursed together, but judging by the growing dampness between my legs, I’d guess they look sultry: not angry. My breathing is heavy and rushed, which further pushes my breasts out. They’re heaving and heavy. I’m not even wearing a corset. I know Forwal can see all of me, but the thought doesn’t humiliate me the way it should.
“What is your name, girl?” He says. The thought of refusing to answer his question doesn’t pass through my mind.
“Evelyn,” I whisper. “But I’m called Eve.”
“Well, Evelyn,” he says, ignoring my nickname. “You’ll be coming with me. Say goodbye to your father now. You won’t be seeing him again.”
“No!” My father cries out, but the man behind me suddenly releases me and pushes me forward. I open my eyes in time to stop myself from careening into my papa.
“Say goodbye,” Forwal repeats.
“Goodbye, Papa,” I whisper, hugging my father tightly. I plant a chaste kiss on his cheek, which is already wet with tears.
“I’m sorry, Eve,” he says.
“It’s okay, Papa.”
“I’ll find a way to get you back, Eve.”
“I’ll be fine, Papa.”
“That’s enough,” Forwal says. He doesn’t offer to let me gather any of my clothes or belongings. He doesn’t give me anymore time. He simply motions for me to follow him out the front door and somehow, I manage to force myself to move. Somehow, I manage to go with him.
There’s a large carriage outside with a driver sitting out front. Two horses are connected to the carriage. There are another two horses with saddles and baggage. I suppose those are for Forwal’s goons.
“Get in the carriage,” Forwal commands, and once again, I obey him wordlessly. I should turn around and look at my childhood home. I should turn around and try to get one last glimpse of my father. I should turn around and whisper goodbye to the place I was born, the place I was raised, but I don’t. Instead, I climb into the carriage and sit down. Then I place my hands in my lap.
Forwal says something to his men before joining me. I can’t make out the words and I’m not truly listening. My life is going to be different now. My life has changed. Everything is going to be new and strange.
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel.
Forwal climbs into the carriage and closes the door. I expect him to sit across from me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits directly next to me on the bench. He scoots over until our hips are touching and he places one of his hands on my thigh.
I don’t flinch.
I should flinch.
A proper girl would flinch.
That’s what a good girl would do.
I’m not really a good girl.
The thought floats through my mind quickly before I banish it, along with all my other secret dreams and fantasies. Those are the things I keep locked away, the things no one must ever know about. Those are the things I must hold close to my heart. Those are the secrets I must never share.
Forwal doesn’t speak. Instead, he simply sits with his hand on my thigh, reminding me silently that I am his now. He can do with me as he wishes. If he wants to lock me in a dungeon, he can. If he wants to make me his servant, he can. If he wants to toss me in a bedroom and play with me, he can. He can do his bidding.
There is nothing I can do to stop him.
I should feel sadder. I should feel fear. I should feel so many things that I don’t, and I wonder what could possibly be wrong with me. Most women would be crying, begging for their lives. Most women would be asking their captor not to touch them, not to hurt them, but I’m not doing that.
I’m not begging because I don’t want him to take his hand away.
I don’t want him not to touch me.
The carriage jerks to a start and Farwol keeps his hand in place as we ride into the night. I don’t know where we’re going.
And I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.