But no.As Boyd continued down the corridor, he saw signs of recent occupation.Fresh rushes on the floor.A few candles in the wall sconces, though they were unlit now.The faint scent of lavender—Bella's scent—hanging in the cold air.
Boyd's frown deepened into a scowl.
He'd told Mrs.Anders to put Bella in the east wing.He'd wanted her far away from him, isolated, separated by as much distance as the Keep could provide.
But he hadn't meant this.
He hadn't realized how abandoned this section truly was.How cold.How unwelcoming.
Mrs.Anders had tried to tell him.He remembered now, the way her face had fallen when he'd given the order.The hesitation in her voice when she'd started to protest.
He'd cut her off.Insisted.Because he'd been so focused on keeping Bella away that he hadn't stopped to consider what he was condemning her to.
Boyd moved deeper into the wing, his unease growing with each step.
The walls here were damp.He could see dark patches of moisture in the corners where the ancient stone cracked.The floor was uneven, and despite the fresh rushes, he could feel the cold seeping up through his boots.
How much worse would it be for Bella, with only threadbare gowns?
He passed what must be a solar.The door was ajar, and Boyd glimpsed furniture covered in cloth, a cold fireplace, walls bare of any warmth or decoration.
Then there was a smaller chamber.Equally cold.Also abandoned.
At the end of the corridor, a single door.Closed.
Bella's bedchamber.
Boyd approached slowly, that gnawing unease in his chest growing into something sharper.
He raised his hand to knock, then paused.
There were no guards.
He'd put Bella in the most isolated, abandoned section of the castle, and he hadn't even thought to post guards.If something happened to her—if an intruder breached the east wing, if she fell ill, if she needed help—no one would know.No one would hear her.
She could scream herself hoarse and he'd never know.
The realization sent ice through Boyd's veins.
What kind of monster have I become?He wondered.
He knocked sharply on the door."Bella?"
No answer.
Boyd knocked again, louder."Bella, open the door."
Silence.
His heart began to race.Had something happened?
Boyd shoved the door open without waiting for permission.
The room was empty.It was freezing.
Boyd stood in the doorway, staring at the chamber he'd condemned his wife to, and felt something twist sickeningly in his gut.
The room was clean; he'd give Mrs.Anders credit for that.But that was where any semblance of comfort ended.The massive stone fireplace was dark and cold, filled with old ashes that looked like they hadn't been disturbed in years.No wonder.Boyd could see chunks of fallen masonry and debris visible even from where he stood.The chimney was clearly blocked, unusable.
