I complied mechanically, my mind racing with dread. I had thought losing my parents was the worst thing that could happen to me. But it wasn’t. It was Gaspard. He was my worst nightmare made flesh, and now the church—the supposed refuge of the righteous—was complicit in binding me to him forever.
The organist began to play, the somber notes echoing through the stone chamber. The congregation rose for the opening hymn. I moved when Gaspard moved, sang when he nudged me to sing, all the while feeling like a puppet whose strings were being pulled by cruel, unseen hands.
It was during the prayer, when heads were bowed and eyes closed, that I felt it. The weight of a gaze upon me. I glanced up to find Colette staring at me from across the aisle, her blue eyes wide with shock. Of course she was surprised. She knew how Papa and I had felt about the church, about Father Simon’s sermons that condemned the very herbal knowledge my mother had passed down to me.
Colette tilted her head slightly, a question in her gaze.Are you all right?I could almost hear her asking.
I wasn’t. I would never be all right again.
With Gaspard’s head still bowed in false prayer, I pretended to adjust the high collar of my dress, deliberately pulling it aside just enough for Colette to glimpse the purple bruises peeking out from beneath the choker. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp that would have drawn attention we couldn’t afford.
In that moment, a silent understanding passed between us. She saw me, truly saw me, and the horror in her eyes mirrored what I felt inside. For the first time since Papa had been taken, I wasn’t completely alone. Someone knew. Someone cared. It wasn’t enough to save me, but it was something to hold onto in the darkness.
Gaspard’s hand found mine, squeezing my fingers until I nearly cried out. I hadn’t realized the prayer had ended. He’d caught me in my moment of rebellion. His eyes promised retribution, but not here, not now. Later, when we were alone. I shivered at the thought.
Father Simon began his sermon, his voice ringing with righteous fervor as he preached about obedience and submission to God’s will, and to the men God had placed in authority. Each word seemed aimed directly at me, a warning disguised as spiritual guidance. The message was clear: accept thy fate, or face divine punishment.
I let my mind drift as the sermon continued, retreating to memories of happier times. Mama’s gentle hands guiding mine as I learned to wrap poultices. The quiet contentment of our cottage, filled with love rather than fear. She was why I started learning herbal medicine at the apothecary.
But even these memories were now tainted, overlaid with the knowledge that they were gone forever. Papa was dead, taken by the beast in the forest. Our cottage would be sold, our possessions scattered. And I was trapped here, soon to be bound to Gaspard in an unholy union blessed by a corrupt priest.
Throughout the service, I caught Colette watching me, her eyes filled with tears she didn’t dare shed. I wondered what she was thinking, what she might do with the knowledge I had shown her. Could she help me somehow? Or would any attempt only bring suffering to her as well?
As the final hymn concluded and the congregation began to file out, Gaspard maintained his iron grip on my arm. We would be among the last to leave, I realized. He wanted to speak with Father Simon again, to finalize their plans for my imprisonment disguised as marriage.
“Wait here,” he instructed, depositing me in our pew. “I’ll only be a moment.”
As soon as he stepped away, Colette was beside me, her movements quick and furtive. “What has he done to thee?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Everything,” I breathed back, not daring to look directly at her. “He... he claimed me. Last night.”
Colette’s face crumpled with grief and fury. “Isabeau, we must get thee away from him. My father—”
“No,” I cut her off. “He’ll hurt Margaret if I try to escape. And thy father cannot stand against Gaspard. No one can.”
“But thou cannot marry him,” she insisted, reaching for my hand beneath the cover of her skirts. “There must be a way.”
I squeezed her fingers, drawing strength from the simple human contact. “If thou finds one, tell me. But for now, just knowing thou sees the truth helps more than thou can know.”
“Isabeau,” Gaspard’s voice cut through our whispered exchange. Colette jerked away as if burned, rising quickly to her feet. “I see thou art speaking with thy friend.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, lowering my eyes. “Just offering condolences for my father’s passing.”
“How thoughtful,” he replied, his tone suggesting he believed nothing of the sort. “But we must be going. There is much to discuss before my departure tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. He was leaving. A sliver of hope pierced the darkness. If Gaspard was going hunting, I might have a chance. A small window of opportunity to... to what? Run? Where would I go? The forest that had claimed Papa was no sanctuary. But neither was Gaspard’s house.
“Of course,” I murmured, rising to my feet. I risked one final glance at Colette, trying to communicate everything I couldn’t say aloud.Help me if thou can. Remember me if thou cannot.
She nodded almost imperceptibly, her eyes fierce despite her placid expression. In that moment, I saw in her the same determination that had sustained me through the night. The willto survive, to fight, to somehow escape the fate that men like Gaspard and Father Simon had decreed for me.
Gaspard’s hand found its place at the small of my back, guiding me toward the church doors. I walked beside him, a perfect picture of docile acceptance. But inside, in a place he couldn’t reach or control, I made a silent vow. I would not become his wife. I would not spend the rest of my days as his possession.
I would find a way out, even if that way led straight into the heart of the Forbidden Forest.
five
Isabeau
