“All I need is this.” He stepped in front of her again, holding up a platinum ring set with a pink diamond.
“That’s my engagement ring,” she said. “You can’t have that.” Richard might have been a bastard, but that didn’t mean the Jackal was entitled to her belongings.
“I’m not taking it; I’m borrowing it,” he said, slipping it into his pocket. “I’m sending it to your fiancé, to verify my claim that you’re in my possession.”
“I’m not anyone’s possession!” She jerked at the chains in futile frustration. “I order you to let me go, right now!” Then she took a deep breath, recalculating.You catch more flies with honey,Headmistress Thornhaven had admonished whenever girls were arrogant enough to demand things from her. Poppy bit her lip and shrank, folding her temper away. “Can’t you at least take me out of these cuffs? My wrists hurt.”
The Jackal didn’t even look at her as he headed for the cell door. “Someone will be by to help you shortly,” he said. “I know it must be so hard for you, not having a servant on demand, but rest assured, Miss Sutherland, you will survive.”
With that, he locked the door, stalking out of the window’s limited view.
“You’re a brute!” she shouted, hoping that he was still in earshot. If he was, he didn’t respond.
She wanted to slouch back in despair, but she had to be strong, just in case he came back. Only once she felt confident that he was truly not returning did the silent tears come, leaving wet tracks on her face that her chained hands couldn’t wipe away.
Chapter Thirteen
Radio Silence
As the Jackal had promised, a woman came by after he left. She carried a faded canvas bag in one hand and a steaming bucket of water in the other. Looped around one finger was her own key ring, although it was not nearly as heavily decorated as his. Poppy measured the maid, trying to judge if she could knock her out long enough to take her keys and run.
“Save your time,” the woman said in accented Welkish. “It won’t work.”
Poppy started, unsettled at how easily the woman had read her mind.
“I would try too,” the maid continued, grudging respect in her tone, “but in this case, your efforts would be futile. I’m grossly overqualified compared to whoever normally assists you.”
“What’s your name?” Poppy asked.
The other woman tilted her head, sizing Poppy up with hazel eyes that stood in sharp contrast to her deep-brown skin. Poppy’s cheeks flushed?—though she’d pulled herself together long before the maid had arrived, her tears had dried in two stiff tracks, a white salty trail on each cheek. Still, she drew herself up higher, trying to match the other woman’s confident stance. It bothered Poppy how this maid carried herself with the same arrogance that only the most powerful matrons in Welkish society had. How did she maintain her pride and self-assurance, she wondered, especially with her thick, coarse black hair and nut-brown skin? If Poppy looked so common, she’d constantly be self-aware. Was the maid faking her poise? Or was she simply ignorant?
“Harithi,” the maid said.
“Pardon me?”
“You asked for my name. It’s Harithi.”
“Oh,” Poppy said. “My name?—”
“I know who you are.” Harithi waved her hand.
Poppy’s jaw dropped?—had the maid just cut her off?
Harithi continued. “You’re Poppy.”
“That’sMiss Sutherlandto you.”
“Oh, right,” Harithi laughed. “I’d forgotten you were raised to have a stick up your ass.”
Poppy pressed her lips together in reproach. “Are you always so coarse?”
“Usually, I’m worse,” Harithi said. “You’ll just have to tolerate it. Unless you wish to remain in your chains?”
Poppy glowered at her but remained silent. Triumphant, the insolent maid sauntered forward and crouched behind her chair, unlocking Poppy’s manacles with a click. Poppy brought her wrists forward, rubbing them gingerly to get the blood flowing again. The skin underneath the metal was mottled with purple and blue bruises, the only fruits of her attempts to pull free. With Harithi’s assistance, she removed her engagement dress, resisting the urge to kick it aside. Most noblewomen repurposed their gowns to save the time and expense of having an entirely new one made, but this was one dress Poppy swore she’d never wear again.
Harithi came forward with the bucket and a towel.
Poppy eyed them with mistrust. “What’s that for?”
