PROLOGUE
ENGLAND 1842
Eton College
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HIS CHEST HEAVED, TRYINGto draw in a ragged breath as he ran through the darkened corridors of the boarding house. Colin knew he would never be able to outrun his pursuers. They were older, bigger, faster. At twelve, he was one of the youngest boys in the school, and small for his age.
The damn brace that had made him the target of this chase tightened around his torso, impeding the expansion of his lungs, depriving him of the much needed oxygen to keep his legs moving.
Their taunting voices and heavy footsteps were getting louder, closer with every second. If he got to the next hallway, he could hide in the broom closet. He reached the intersecting corridor and grabbed the edge of the wall to propel him around the corner.Just a bit further..
BAM! He saw stars as his feet went flying and his head hit the floorboards. The largest of the bullies, his fag-master, loomed maliciously over him. This boy was supposed to be his protector and mentor. Instead, he had become his biggest tormentor.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” The bully sneered, a semester worth of nit-picking making him bold.
Straining for breath, Colin didn’t even try to respond to the gibe. It wouldn’t matter, anyway. He had no hope of outfighting them.
He squeezed his eyes in despair, hot tears of fury burning behind his eyelids. He despised himself. Despised his weakness, his helplessness. His misshapen body.
He pushed himself up with as much dignity as he had left.
“What’s the matter, freak? You cry like a little girl.” The bully made a mocking gesture, extending his hand to touch Colin’s face. He batted the hand away with a feral growl.
The next instant, he was seized from behind, a beefy arm snaking around his neck, cutting off his precious oxygen. He fought them. Even if he had no hope of winning, he wouldn’t go without a fight. But he was being held immobile, his arms twisted painfully.
“You useless little freak. Why don’t you go away? Nobody wants you in this house. You are good for nothing. You can’t play sports, can’t do your chores. You are nothing but an embarrassment.”
Colin elbowed the guy holding him, panic lending him strength. The arm around his neck tightened.
“We are going to make sure you leave this house for good.” The sneering voice kept taunting while the rest of the group laughed. Colin didn’t know what he had done to deserve this much hostility, but it lit an equivalent hatred in him. That hatred, fueled by impotence, was a fire consuming everything in him. Rising like a tidal wave that pushed out every other emotion until he was made of this fire.
Yards of fabric fell over his head, cloth drenched in a cheap and pungent perfume engulfed him. He kicked out, fury and desperation lending strength to his muscles. His foot connected with the stomach of the boy in front of him, who grunted in pain and doubled over. He smiled, but his satisfaction was short-lived. The arm around his neck was strangling him. He couldn’t draw breath.
If he died here tonight, at least he had delivered a blow. The edges of his vision darkened as his consciousness faded.
He came back to his senses in the middle of the school courtyard. The first rays of the sun were barely coloring the sky above the rooftops. All the students would be going to Early School soon.
What was happening? He was surrounded by boys, all pointing and laughing at him. Colin moved and his hands caught in the folds of fabric, making him look down in confusion.
They had dressed him as a woman. No, worse, they had dressed him as a whore. The garish skirts and low bodice proclaimed the type of dress this was. He tore at the gown, trying to rip it from his body. But the ugly corset-like contraption he usually wore under his shirt in order to straighten his spine had been fastened over the dress. They certainly made sure it was on prominent display.
A sticky residue covered his lips, and when he rubbed his hand over his mouth, he smeared a greasy red cream. Face paint. Something pinched at his scalp and he noticed that his longish hair had been pinned up and arranged in a girl’s style. He yanked the pins out. It was too much. The embarrassment, the cloying smell of the clothes, the greasiness of the face paint... he threw up. Heaving with helpless disgust, compounding his humiliation.
He tried to get up and his legs tangled in the garish skirts, making him fall in a clumsy heap and eliciting another roar of laughter. Then a hand grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him up. He swung around, ready to strike, but the other boy held up a hand in a placating gesture.
“I'm friend, not foe. C’mon, let’s get you out of here and out of those clothes.”
He had no idea who this fellow was, but he followed the other boy, grateful for the kind gesture among the cruelty of his peers. His newfound ally approached the inner edge of the crowd and shoved one of the jeering onlookers, who fell back, opening a gap for them to go through.
“I don’t think we have met. I’m Gabriel. And you?” the boy said matter-of-factly. Colin was even more grateful for this. If Gabriel had shown him pity, it would have crushed his spirit even more. He thrust his hand out.
“I’m Colin. Thank you.” He said and took another swipe at his mouth with the edge of the skirt. The disgusting, degrading skirt. With sudden fury, he attacked the cloth, which gave in with a satisfying rip. He kept tearing at it, shredding it to pieces as he stumbled out of the yard. Thankfully, he still wore his trousers underneath. But his shirt, waistcoat and coat were absent.
They came out of the school yard and Gabriel pointed to the house right across the street. “My lodgings are right here. If you would like to come in and fix yourself.”
It was closer than his own rooms, so he accepted the offer. Anything to get out of the public eye. Inside Gabriel’s room, he went to work on the straps and ties that kept his brace in place, loosening it so he could remove the bodice of the odious dress. Meanwhile, Gabriel poured water into a bowl and soaked a towel, offering it to him.
