Me dearest Scarlett.
Her hand rose instinctively to her chest as guilt twisted painfully through her.
“Forgive me,” she whispered beneath her breath. “I daenae think I can do it.”
The heavy doors suddenly shifted. She started slightly as the wood groaned against the stone floor, then stilled once more.
“Open the doors.”
The command rolled through the corridor like thunder, and her head lifted instinctively at Aaron’s voice.
If she was going to run, it had to be now.
She swallowed. Her fingers clenched tighter, her knuckles nearly turning white. But her feet would not move.
There was no home waiting for her, no family to return to, no place that would take her in without question.
All afternoon, she had convinced herself that this was a choice she had made. That it was all in her power, and she could refuse at any point without suffering any consequence.
But standing there now, with Aaron’s voice carrying through the doors, the truth finally sank in—she had never had a choice in the matter.
The great doors slowly began to part, golden firelight spilling into the darkened corridor where she stood.
One month.
Edith swallowed, straightened her back, and folded her trembling hands neatly in front of her.
One month, and I will be free.
Finally, the doors opened fully.
The hall stretched endlessly ahead of her, packed with clansmen, elders, servants, and councilmen, all staring at her in complete silence.
It was as though she were in a dream. The warm light bathed her entirely, baring her to their assessing gazes.
Her legs felt like jelly, as though they would give way if she tried to move. Her heart thumped violently against her ribs, threatening to jump out of her chest. Her throat tightened as her wide eyes swept across the crowd.
She had never had so many people watching her at once, and the sudden attention unnerved her more than she’d expected.
Her gaze found Aaron. He stood at the front of the hall, taller than everyone else. His broad shoulders were straight, and his goblet was still raised from the toast he had made to her. His expression was unreadable as he waited for her, and yet, somehow, his mere presence helped her breathe a bit more easily.
She swallowed, completely frozen as though she had forgotten what she was meant to do.
“Edith,” Violet whispered from beside her.
Edith nodded, coming back to herself.
I can do this.
She moved forward, one step at a time, holding her head high and keeping her back straight.
The murmurs began as soon as she crossed the threshold.
“Is that Edith?” one of the older maids close to the entrance whispered.
Another shook her head. “Nay, it cannae be. Edith is a lowborn.”
Lowborn.
