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Just as the doors close behind me, the first woman lets out an ear-piercing scream. Clenching my jaw, I force myself to walk away. The screams chase me through the halls as I put as much distance between the Grey Prince’s chambers as I can.
17
Rose
“You’re here,” Lyra says, her pretty face breaking into a wide smile as she stares at me.
Ms. Thompson and her maids are making their way through the room. I glance at Lyra, worried that her excitement that I’m alive will make her voice carry. She’s bouncing on her feet, grinning at me. I’m not sure I have the heart to tell her that last night wasn’t a success. I’m not sure she’s noticed the absence of the others.
“I was so worried,” she tells me. “I had terrible dreams all night of you being dragged off. It’s such a relief to open my eyes this morning and see you there. Especially after I heard what happened to the other three.”
I blink at her. “You’ve already heard?”
“It’s all anyone can talk of. Poor Hazel has had to relive the nightmare at least a dozen times since we’ve been dragged from bed.”
Glancing down the line of beds, I see Hazel standing there. Her shoulders sag, and her eyes are locked on the ground as a maid goes about braiding her hair. Fighting a yawn, I wonder how I managed to miss the excitement of everyone learning about last night. Now that I’m aware, I can sense the buzz about the room. It must be the reason that Ms. Thompson’s usual scowl has deepened.
“Have the ones taken by the guards returned?” I ask.
Lyra shakes her head. I’m not sure why I’m surprised by this. I imagine that the Grey Prince intends to punish them for attempting to leave. Still, a small part of me was hoping that they’d be here this morning. Broken, yes, but still alive and here. My heart clenches as I try not to think about what their absences mean.
“You look rather ragged, girl,” Ms. Thompson says, startling me as she appears before me.
I’m sure I look terrible. Exhaustion pulls at me, reminding me I only got about an hour or so of sleep. Bags must pull at my eyes, and my skin is surely paler than normal. I say nothing as I meet her gaze. For some strange reason, her frown does little to discourage me. It’s not as though I’m here to catch the prince’s eyes. Even if I were a different woman, one without the experiences that I have, I wouldn't be so foolish as to hope for that.
“It might serve you to know that even the unchosen don’t leave here,” she tells me. “Each of you has a purpose to serve.”
A frown tugs at my lips as I continue to stare at her. I see her pleasure in watching me wallow in confusion. If she wants me to ask what she means, she’ll be disappointed. I don’t mean to cave to my curiosity. Not if it means falling into whatever trap she’s seemingly set out for me. Life has taught me that it’s better to keep my head down, and I need to remember that here. The fact that she’s already paying attention to me doesn’t bode well. Not that I think it means I’m to be chosen.
“It would serve you well to at least attempt to become Chosen. That is the far better fate compared to what awaits you should you be left unchosen.”
She’s baiting me into asking what happens should I find myself unchosen. I had never thought I would still be here to have to worry about that. Yet, here I am. Unable to leave because Lyra and now Hazel wouldn’t fare well without someone at their side. I have to bite my tongue to keep my questions from bubbling out.
Ms. Thompson pauses for a moment, waiting. When it becomes clear I have no intention of asking her anything, she gives me a curt nod. Moving on to glance over Lyra, I stiffen at the way her eyes gleam. Lyra is stunning, soft, and feminine, where I am not. Any man would be lucky to win her. Not that the prince will have to do anything other than point a finger at her. The thought makes my stomach turn. This is not the fate she deserves.
“You aren’t slipping away today, are you?” Lyra asks when Ms. Thompson has finally left us alone.
I shake my head. “No. I’m not sure how alert the guards will be after last night, but I don’t want to risk it.”
“Good.”
Despite my words, Lyra stays firmly at my side throughout the day. She plays cards with me, dragging Hazel and a small brunette names Oliva over to join our game. I do my best to focus on their words or even the game. But my mind keeps wandering. I can’t shake the feeling that the other three should have been returned by now. Was it foolish of me to think they wouldn’t be killed?
The day drags on, and my thoughts become darker. My head swivels toward the door every time I hear a sound, certain that it’s the three women being returned. It never is. Lyra shoots me worried glances that I do my best to ignore. I know I should be getting a better hold of myself, but I can’t. Guilt eats me that I didn’t do enough to warn Isabelle, Ava, and Sophia out of trying to escape. That if they are killed, their deaths lie on my shoulders.
When the sky finally darkens, and the maids return with our last meal and nightgowns, I let out a sigh of relief. Surely, I can let sleep eat away at my worries. Yet, from the moment I close my eyes, I’m haunted. Visions of Isabelle’s stricken face when the guards appeared refuse to leave my mind. Too vividly, I can recall the way Sophia collapsed as the guards reached her. I toss and turn throughout the night, torn between closing my eyes and staring at the dark ceiling. I’m not sure which is worse, the nightmares of the unrelenting imagination of what is occurring to the women right this moment.
“You look terrible,” Lyra whispers the next morning.
I frown at her but don’t argue. I’m sure Ms. Thompson will have the same to say. Two nights of little to no sleep are wearing on me, tugging me down. My mind, though, is unaware of the tiredness making my movements sluggish. It’s busy spinning new theories of what happened to the other women. I know I should spend another day at Lyra’s side, playing cards and not arousing suspicions. But I can’t. I need to find the others. I have to do my best to bring them back here. Or, at the very least, answer the unasked question of what happened to them. I need to know.
Ms. Thompson says nothing as she passes me. Her lips press together into a thin line as her eyes move over my face before she moves on to Lyra. Compliments and praise drip from her lips as she smiles at my friend. Again, it puts me on edge. I don’t like that Ms. Thompson has taken an interest in Lyra. It can only mean one very bad thing. I need to find a way to protect Lyra from the Grey Prince. While also figuring out what happened to the other women.
The moment the doors to the hall closet, I’m moving. I feel Lyra’s unhappiness as she follows me toward the window. The rest of the women have broken off into their groups, probably to gossip and play cards. If I’m forced to stay in this room for another day, pretending like everything is just fine, I’m not sure I’ll manage. My mind will surely slip, and that’s not something I want to experience.
“Be safe,” Lyra whispers, surprising me.
I glance at her, and she offers me a soft smile.
