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 shook my head in denial. Through the half-open ballroom door, I could still see blood. This place was haunted. I brushed down my hair, but it was a mess.
“You should stay away from your father for a while. He’s very volatile,” Flavia murmured.
I dragged my eyes back toward her. “Are you okay?”
Flavia lowered her hand from her flaming cheek, her shoulders stiffening. “This is nothing.”
I wished it weren’t true.
“I don’t want to live here,” I admitted in a whisper as a couple of cleaners dressed in white bodysuits carrying red-tinged mops walked past us with lowered heads.
Flavia touched my shoulder, her eyes hard. “I know. Neither do I. But our wishes are irrelevant. Let’s go to our rooms and change clothes. Your skirt is soaked with blood.”
My gaze slid down the length of me as dread settled in my bones. Flavia was right. My velveteen shoes and the hem of my dress were encrusted with dried blood. The fabric was a darker red in those spots.
I retched. Flavia clamped her hand around my upper arm and dragged me toward the staircase that led up to the third floor. “We must keep our countenance. These walls have eyes and ears. We don’t want your father to find out about another moment of weakness.”
I pressed my lips together, forcing the bile down. He had seen me throw up in the ballroom, and his gaze had promised punishment, but so far, he’d been too busy schmoozing Falcone and basking in his triumph to make good on his promise. Was it a weakness to feel sick at this display of brutality?
Goose bumps covered my body as I followed Flavia up the stairs. The maid who had greeted us earlier appeared in the hallway, startling me half to death. I gripped Flavia’s arm tightly.
“I’m sorry for startling you,” she said formally. “I want to inquire if you need help with anything.”
“No,” Flavia clipped, her expression laced with suspicion.
The maid curtsied. “Breakfast will be served at seven as per your husband’s request down in the dining room.”
Flavia nodded, and the maid finally left.
I sank my teeth into my lower lip. We really would live here.
Then another thought struck me. If we lived here, maybe I could find a way to visit Nestore. He certainly needed company and probably food. I couldn’t imagine that prisoners would be treated decently under my father’s rule.
The present
It was strange to see Nestore like this, caged in like an animal, his clothes crumpled, hair a tousled mess. The soiled toilet in one corner of the cell had no walls around it for privacy, with a tiny sink beside it. The entire cellblock smelled rotten, as if something had died down here and been forgotten. My belly tightened at the thought, worrying that the same would happen with Nestore.
I wished I could help him, but I was already lucky I had managed to sneak down here without being caught. I had no clue where the keys were.
I had gotten up at six and hurried downstairs way before breakfast to watch from the landing above what was happening down in the foyer. It had allowed me to observe two of Father’s men guffawing as they carried a dog bowl filled with what looked like porridge covered in poo through a heavy steel door. The thought still made me gag. They had emerged shortly after, laughing about Nestore’s disgusted expression. But at least I knew where to find the basement entrance.
“Why are you still here? I would have thought you’d be heading home once the party was over.” His mouth twisted with bitterness.
I flushed. “My father wants us to make this our new home. He wants us to move in right away.” I shuddered thinking of the bodies in the ballroom, of the trails of blood all over the house and gardens. I’d never be able to see this house as anything but a cemetery. But father didn’t care about my feelings. He only cared to flaunt his triumph.
Nestore laughed, a jaded, bitter sound. “Of course. A castle for the new king.”
I wasn’t sure what to tell him. The horrors I’d witnessed last night were still fresh in my mind, but my belly was empty, so I couldn’t throw up again.
“Why are you down here? We aren’t friends. You hardly know me.” Nestore was not being unkind, just curious.
I tensed. He had a point. Before tonight, we had never talked. I gave a slight shrug. “You were kind to me last night, though you didn’t have to be. You were in a position of power over me, and I learned early that usually people who are kind to you need to be. People who are above you in the hierarchy are never kind, at least not the people I had met before, but you were…”