Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
I had to figure out a way to save Nestore. I simply didn’t know how. My father kept the key on his body at all times, and so did the guards.
The two men locked Nestore’s cell, then went to the steel door, which fell shut with a resounding bang as they left. My father had probably gone upstairs after he was done torturing Nestore. I shoved to my feet, my heart beating in my throat, and left the cell. Trembling, my pulse galloping in my veins, I crept down the long corridor toward Nestore’s cell. It had been his prison for too long. I held my breath when I faced his cell, searching the dark for a sign of Nestore. My eyes caught on the blood trail leading from the steel door to the cell entrance, then beyond it into the dark. A single hand reached the area illuminated by the wall lamps. It didn’t stir.
“Nestore?” I whispered. Nothing. What if Nestore didn’t wake? What if today was the day he succumbed to the torture? I had lost count of the times I’d thought Nestore was dead. More often than not, he was closer to death than life when Father or his men were done with him.
“Nestore?” I said louder, despair tightening my airways. His fingers twitched, then curled. I sucked in the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Nestore flattened his hand on the stone, then his second hand appeared in the beam of light. That one was a bloody mess. His knuckles were swollen and burned, his fingers covered in blisters. Burns were always the worst to treat. It was a miracle that Nestore hadn’t died of sepsis yet.
I shuddered, a wave of nausea taking hold of me. He pushed himself to his hands and knees and crawled toward the bars, where he collapsed. He rolled over onto his back, revealing a swollen face and a busted lip. His chest was littered with burn marks from what looked like cigarettes. I reached through the bars and lightly touched a spot on his shoulder that looked fine. “It’s over.” I bit my tongue. It wasn’t. Far from it. Not if I didn’t find a way to free Nestore from this hell. In the time since his capture, my father had beaten me up a couple of times for inquiring about Nestore. If he found out I had done more than that, he’d probably ship me off to a boarding school, and nobody would be here to help Nestore. Flavia had made it clear she wouldn’t risk her life for him, even if she kept my secret.
I took a small bottle of water and painkillers from the purse slung over my shoulder. I always bring it down here with me these days. My father got increasingly annoyed by my constant headaches, but if this lie meant I could alleviate a tiny part of Nestore’s pain, then I’d keep doing it. Flavia often gave me her painkillers, too.
I popped two pills into Nestore’s mouth, then touched the bottle to his lips. He parted them and gulped down some of the liquid, including the painkillers. I leaned my cheek against the cool bars, keeping my eyes trained on Nestore, who didn’t open his eyes. He remained motionless except for the shivers that wracked his body. His skin felt hot. My father hardly ever let a doctor treat Nestore’s wounds, only when it was necessary to prolong Nestore’s suffering. Father didn’t want him dead—yet.
I couldn’t reach The Tale of Peter Rabbit, which was hidden under Nestore’s cot, but I didn’t need the book. I had read the book so often to Nestore that I knew it by heart, so I began to recite the first page word for word, hoping it would soothe Nestore.
Nestore finally stopped shaking. The fever had subsided. I feared nothing more than losing Nestore. What if he died without ever seeing the sky again?
“Don’t die. I want you to experience beauty again,” I whispered thickly, despair clogging my throat.
Nestore opened his eyes. Those green-amber irises made my heart jump as they always did. “If I die today, it’ll be in the presence of true beauty.”
I swallowed, my vision swimming with tears. This was probably still the fever talking. “Don’t die.”
“I won’t,” he croaked. “I won’t ever leave you, Amelia. Together forever.”
“Together forever. I won’t ever leave you.”
Nestore smiled and extended an arm through the bars. I kissed the palm, then pressed it against my chest right over my heart. “This beats for you.”
“I often dream about kissing you.”
I exhaled. I wanted nothing more, but I had always wished for our first kiss to happen outside of these godforsaken walls, in freedom where our love could truly blossom. “All my firsts are yours,” I promised. It was a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep. I had three years until I had to marry, unless my father decided to give me away before I was of age… Right now, he kept me as bargaining material.