I flinch back, away from the tight grip of his hands and the hate in his eyes, and Silas drops me as though my skin is on fire. He turns and walks away from me, rapid footsteps towards the lights of the house.
“Sort her out,” he snaps over his shoulder as he pushes the door open and disappears inside.
Slowly, I reach up my hand as best I can to try and massage the aching flesh. There’s nothing I can do for the hurt inside my chest, though.
“What did he mean?” I whisper, turning to Kit. Then to Rafe. Both of them wear identical harsh expressions, never more alike than they seem to be right now, in their renewed dislike for me. As though I’ve reminded them of something. “What… what happened?”
Rafe’s jaw tightens, his mouth forming a firm line. “The fuck did Silas just say?”
I look between them. Both of them look determined to blame me for something, but I have no ideawhat.
Unless it’s for what happened the night I left. But something about William, specifically, has triggered them.
As… as though he’s not here anymore.
My heart hurts even more at the thought. I don’t protest when Rafe grabs my arm, dragging me after Silas. I try to keep up, Kit falling in behind us as he pulls me roughly up the steps, shoving the door open with one hand and pushing me through with the other.
The entrance hall hasn’t changed at all. Small sets of stairs around us lead off to various places. William’s study. The longer hall ahead of us, leading upstairs. Another set to our left would take us down to the kitchen.
The room is still the same dark green, full of artwork and vases filled with fresh flowers from the fields around us. I wonder who keeps them filled. I can’t imagine Silas, Kit or Rafe picking daisies.
We both come to a stop. The woman waiting inside the hall isn’t someone I know. Short and gray-haired, she eyes Rafe with the expression of a mildly displeased headmistress.
“Ellen,” Rafe acknowledges. “You didn’t have to wait up.”
Her pale-blue eyes move to mine. “I was up anyway. It’s no bother. This is her?”
Her expression is carefully neutral, but I catch a flicker of distaste in her eyes before she blinks it away. When Rafe doesn’t respond, she nods. “I’ve prepared you a room.”
She speaks directly to me, and I nearly close my eyes in relief at the thought of a bed. But Rafe’s grip tightens. “She doesn’t need a room.”
We both turn to him, and even Ellen looks a little taken aback. “Why not?”
“Because,” he says grimly, “she’s not here for a holiday.”
He pulls me past a gaping Ellen, yanking open the door to the kitchen and pulling me down the small flight of stairs. I barely have chance to glance around before he’s pushing me towards the hearth. “This is appropriate, don’t you think? Sinceit’s where you made your sister sleep. An eye for an eye, and all that.”
I stare at the filthy stone floor. My eyes start to prickle, and I blink them back. “It wasn’t like that.”
“As though I would believe a word that comes from your lying lips,” he says, almost softly. “Enjoy your accommodations, Anastasia. Ellen will wake you in the morning.Early.”
My eyes drop to my hands. To the chains. To the filth beneath my fingernails. The dirt caking my skin. “Wait – Rafe,please—,”
But he’s already jumped up the stairs, the door slamming closed behind him. I’m left with the smoldering remains of the hearth, glowing embers that fade the longer I stare into them.
When they start to swim, I blink. Moisture drips onto my cheek.
“Stop it,” I whisper. “Pull yourself together, Stasi.”
I need running water. And a bathroom. One more urgently than the other.
Thankfully, there’s a small washroom at the other end of the kitchen. It was used by the staff when they came in from the gardens… before. I make my way over to it, praying it hasn’t changed, and sigh with relief when I find it exactly the same as I remember.
Everything seems unchanged. As though I only stepped out of the front door yesterday, and not a decade ago. The art on the walls is the same. The little hooks on the back of the bathroom door are unchanged. Even the towels seem familiar, if not a little more worn.
Switching on the light, I brace myself before looking in the tiny circular mirror.
I didn’t brace enough.
