What they could neverseewasme, the girl who felt buried in the tombs she danced in— dead but alive at the same time. Always, always,alwayswishing for...
For freedom.
For my prince to come wielding his sword and saving me from this dungeon. Saving me from a life that was really no life at all.
Sighing, I made my way deeper into the dungeon, thinking about Matteo Fausti, and how my knight had somehow morphed into him.
Dreaming was a disappointment in general, but dreaming about him seemed dangerous. He seemed dangerous, and so did those men who were with him. It didn’t take a detective to figure out that Matteo’s family had stolen Ivan’s heart and left it for Boris to find.
Why? What had Ivan done to set all of this in motion?
Matteo had said something about his friend being hurt. Maybe Ivan had hurt her? He never touched me, and I knew that was because of his fear of Régine, but I’d seen Ivan flirting with other women in the underground club. Maybe Ivan thought he could get away with doing what he wanted to women who were not connected?
There was nothing I could do to help those women, but it made me wonder how the wheels of change had started to roll. I could feel it. Things were changing, and not only because I knew Régine would be marrying Boris soon. She always married after something happened to her husbands. The house felt different. Tense in a way it hadn’t before.
I stopped short when I came to the last step and saw Odette sitting in the threadbare chair in front of my vanity. Odette was Régine’s oldest daughter, and she was as mean as an irritable snake. Henriette, Régine’s second daughter, usually shadowed Odette, but she wasn’t around.
Odette gave me a smirk when she noticed me. She sat up some, the flames behind her making her look like hell had puked her up. I didn’t mean to do it, but my fists clenched at my sides. She was wearing the coat Matteo had given me. I wanted to throw myself on her, fight her for it, ripping her skin open in places, but I knew I had to play this just right. If I threw a fit,even for what was rightly mine, Odette would scream for help and the men would intervene. Then Régine would.
I was no one in this house, a lowly servant who washed their clothes and cleaned their toilets in the daylight, and a money maker come night. Odette was the favorite. The daughter who would go far. If I hurt her, or caused trouble, I’d pay for it.
Instead of attacking her, I crossed my arms and hid my hands underneath my arm pits.
“Nice coat, Rags,” she said with a heavy French accent. She rubbed the arms. “Much too nice for trash to wear. Wherever did you get it?”
When I stayed silent, she lifted from the chair in a regal way and came to stand in front of me. The fire must have lit me some. Her eyes went wide, and a true smile came to her face. “Your hair!” She peeled with laughter. When she recovered, she pointed. “You look like the Grinch with that hack job! It’s perfect. So perfect! Oh,mamandid such a wonderful job. It suits you, Rags!”
I was either going to punch her or start to sob uncontrollably—a traitorous tear leaked from one eye, and then another from the other. She noticed and, even though I didn’t think it could, her smile grew even wider. She stepped up next to me and looked me in the eye.
“I am sure the Fausti family is looking for this coat. After all, why would they throw it in the trash? I am sure Matteo—that is his name,mamantells me—will only be too happy to offer me a reward once I personally deliver it to him.”
As she rose higher and higher on the steps, her laughter did wicked things to my skin as it floated down behind her. Her laughter was worse than the old potato sack. I had to fight the urge to not claw at my arms to get the feeling to stop. As soon as the door shut above, my entire body deflated. The tears cameharder, faster, and I flung the sack to the floor as I plopped down in my chair, set my arms on the vanity, and cried into them.
These tears fucking hurt.
It was the first time I’d ever broken like this. Because it felt like the first time Régine and her spawn had ever stolen things that were close to my heart.
Myhair.
Mycoat.
Small things that had become symbols of hope. Of…protection.
I’d never felt so alone. Not since I’d first arrived in Paris and, so confused, was led down into this dungeon and told I’d die down here.
All of my energy felt like it had been siphoned from me, but I forced myself to dig in the secret drawer no one but Henri and I seemed to know about. I counted the items and took a shuddering breath. All there. Even Matteo’s ring. I’d taken it from the coat and hidden it.
At least I had that.
My glossy eyes rose to the meet the reflection in the mirror.
Quietly, slowly, I released another sob at the sight of myself.
My hair.
My beautiful hair.
My mom’s hair.
