It was a lie. The wood and plaster around her feet had kept her from the worst of the damage the bastard had tried to inflict. She could hobble on her heels if she had to. She wouldn’t be fast or fierce, but it would be better than being chained like a dog.
Neither of her captors responded. It took two of them to chain her down. She didn’t fight them. It would be too easy for them to rebreak her feet, but she didn’t make it easy on them either. And she memorized their faces so she could get revenge on them soon. A good curse if nothing else.
Then she was left alone.
After nearly two weeks living in luxury, this was a shock. She kept trying to tell herself it wasn’t. She had slept on bare floors before, and this room had a cot. She had fought with rats for her food, and so far, she had not seen any vermin. All in all, this was not so bad. She had survived worse. Certainly, it was better than the ship that had brought her to England.
It was horrible.
She was alone again, completely lost again. She knew what happened to girls chained in brothels. She wanted to believe that Max would come for her. Emmaline had said as much, but in her heart, she knew that Emma had as little power as she did. If Max’s father declared that she be tossed in a whorehouse, then that was where she would stay. It was the nature of powerful men to destroy women.
What an idiot she was for thinking Max would keep her safe. He was not the family patriarch. His father was the one with real power. The son might be kind, and the son could make promises, but it was the father who made the decision.
She curled in on herself, as miserable as she had ever been. Why had Heaven given her two weeks of kindness? Two weeks of good food and a man’s gentle touch, not to mention friends and hope for a future? Why give her those just to snatch them away? Better to have never felt such things, never known a soft caress than to have a taste and lose it.
Those were her most coherent thoughts and even they were sharp needles scattered between sobs. She was a survivor. She was a woman who made her own chances and created her own fortune. Except now she felt utterly broken. How pitiful she was, she mocked herself. Where was fierce Yihui? Could she be destroyed simply because Max was lost to her?
Yes.
Yihui had been raised under her father’s casual disregard, had accepted being sold, and had survived the ugliness on the ship. She had cursed her abusers and even killed one. But give her two weeks of kindness, fill her with hope for a future in a beautiful man’s arms, and suddenly, her spirit was broken when it was snatched away.
She should have expected this. She should have had a weapon ready. But she had grown soft and stupid because she loved a beautiful man who made promises he could not keep.
She was a fool.
She lay on her pallet and cried. And when there were no more tears, she stewed in her stupidity. She deserved whatever fate came. She knew eventually she would gather herself together and figure out a solution. She knew in time she would develop a plan for survival. But for right now, she damned her own stupidity.
Max was lost to her, and she grieved.
It was hours before anyone disturbed her misery.
She heard the door scrape open and bolted upright. She’d long since learned to protect her feet when moving, so they remained immobile, the heavy iron chain glinting dully in the growing candlelight. She wondered if there was any way to protect herself, any weapon at hand. She cursed herself for crying like a child instead of planning for this moment, but that was all the energy she had for recrimination.
She would face whatever came with a cold, hard heart.
And then was momentarily crushed when the person who entered her room wasn’t Max.
She hadn’t been expecting him, and yet she was still wrapped in her dreams as two women walked into the room. The first strode in calmly. She was the madame, dressed in elegant but functional clothes. Sturdy fabrics stitched well. Her face was calm, her expression one of calculation.
Yihui pushed the hair out of her face and squared her shoulders. She would not face what was coming as a victimized child. But before she could speak, her attention was absorbed by the second woman.
That lady swept in wearing silk, powder, and a canny expression. Her eyes were alight with interest, and she looked positively ecstatic by the sight of Yihui.
“You poor thing!” she exclaimed. “Chained and broken. How awful.”
Yihui extended her chained foot. “I cannot run. The chain is unnecessary.”
“And cruel!” the lady gasped. She waved at the madame. “Please get rid of that.”
“Are you sure?” the other asked, her expression still mostly blank.
“Absolutely!”
With a nod, the madame glided forward and released the shackle. Meanwhile, the lady shook her head and audibly tsked.
“What do you need to heal your feet? Potions? Plasters?” She again gestured at the madame. “Make sure she has anything she could want.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
