The sun was high when the carriage stopped, and Jagon left, returning soon after with a bowl. ‘Eat, Roksana. Whatever plan you’re forging will fail if you’re too weak to move.’ Jagon held out the food, the smell of meat and roots making my stomach growl as I recognised the aroma of hunter stew.
He played the gracious provider as if a simple act of kindness could erase years of abuse and those damned manacles. When Jagon reached out to hand me the bowl, I flinched. My sudden movement splashed some stew onto the floor.
‘Just eat. I won’t hurt you,’ he said, mincing a curse. I didn’t even look at him until he grasped my chin, tilting my head towards him, and my body went rigid with fear. ‘There is defiance, and there is being stupidly stubborn. I never thought you would be stupid. Eat. If you drop dead, you’ll never see your king again.’
He acted so eager, so… caring.
I exhaled. I’d survived Tivala, so if I played along, maybe I could survive Jagon. ‘Fine. Give it to me.’ I took the bowl from his hand. A smile brightened his narrow face before he schooled his expression to indifference.
‘Good. You and me, Roksana, just like in the old days,’ he said, and I wondered if he knew how creepy it sounded.
My hands tightened on the rim of the bowl despite its blistering heat. ‘Jagon, I’m close to throwing this food in your face. Don’t push your luck.’ My words didn’t have the desired effect; he just shrugged, sitting opposite me, his jaw tightening while I stuffed some fabric under the manacles.
‘I know you hate them, but as soon as they’re gone, you’ll try to escape. In a week, a ship will take us to the Windmaster’s stronghold. Once it docks in their port, I’ll remove them.’ He rambled while I was eating. ‘We can rebuild the Brotherhood there… together.’
I raised my head, the spoon clattering against the rim of the bowl. ‘You think these are why I hate you?’ I huffed, rolling my eyes. ‘And what’s with this new plan? Do you really think the Brotherhood will survive in Tangra’s new world order?’
His lips tightened so much that all the colour drained from them. ‘I made a mistake with you, Roksana, this I admit. I should’ve been less… strict, especially when you came of age–’ He stopped when I burst out laughing.
‘Less… strict? Sure, if you say so.’ My sarcasm angered him even more.
‘If Boyan had been reasonable, you and I could have taken over the Brotherhood, ruled them, but no, I had to swear to keep my distance. Then that idiot Irsha…’ He caught himself and exhaled slowly, reining in his anger. ‘If I’d tried being nice to you, Boyan would’ve killed me. You understand, yes?’
‘I understand how much you feared Boyan. What I don’t understand is why you kept trying to kill me. Was my pain the price for your safety?’
‘I’ll make it up to you.’ Something akin to guilt flashed in his gaze, but the past couldn’t be changed. All we had now was the blind sentiment I planned to use against him.
‘Make it up to me? Ha! Fine, start now. Let me go. Boyan would forgive any sin for those who risked their lives to save his daughter.’
His brows lowered. For a moment, I stared into eyes filled with an unsettling longing before he inhaled deeply and shook his head. ‘I can’t, Roksana. Get used to your new life. The sooner you do, the easier it will be for everyone.’
My instincts screamed for me to lunge at him. Instead, I placed the empty bowl aside and pressed my cheek to the window. ‘You’ll never change; always treating me like your possession.’ I let my mind drift away, pretending he wasn’t there, ignoring the despair consuming my heart.
A few hours later, we entered a town, the cold air filled with the scent of brine. The streets were quiet, but I wasn’t surprised our transportation had braved a vicious winter storm to get here. As we continued, the screeching of seagulls and shouts of fishermen confirmed the assumption made when I’d smelled the sea. We’d arrived at one of those secluded ports that peppered Tivalaran’s coast.
The carriage stopped beside a townhouse near the warehouse district. Before we exited, Jagon grasped my hand. ‘We’ll be staying here till the ship arrives. For your own sake, don’t do anything stupid. Dagome is lost, and so is your king. Your future is with me now,’ he said, stroking the inside of my wrist.
I looked down to where his finger traced the vein, and bile rose in my throat. With a sneer, I pulled my hand out of his grasp. Jagon swore, his hand balling into a fist. I thought he would strike me, just as he used to. Instead, his arm dropped while he struggled to control himself.
‘I know what they did to you, and I swore to give you the time you’d need to adjust. I’m trying, Roksana, but don’t overestimate my patience.’ He grabbed my hand, squeezing it to the point of pain, and dragged me out of the carriage. ‘I’m still willing to lock you in a dark, windowless room until you learn who you belong to.’
He yanked me through the door, pushing me towards a wide-eyed maid as I shrank back from his touch. ‘You are not my servant, Roksana. You are my woman, and you’ll behave like a lady,’ he said, gesturing to the serving girl.
‘Take her to her room and sort her out, especially the hair.’ He pointed to two burly men. ‘You and you, guard her door. If she escapes, you die. If she harms herself, you die. If you disrespect her, you die. Do you understand?’
They nodded and then turned, glaring at me with burning hostility. The maid led me to my room. It was plain but pleasantand surprisingly comfortable. Jagon had ensured everything was warm and fluffy, not a single sharp hairpin in sight.
‘I’ll ready the bath, my lady. Dinner will be just after dusk, and I’m sure the master would prefer you presentable by then,’ the servant said, and as much as I wanted to refuse Jagon’s hospitality, the filth covering me was driving me insane. Blood, grime and… other things. I needed to be clean, wanted to scrub their taint from my body.
‘Fine, but bring me some clothes. Nothing fancy, just clean.’
She nodded and left the room. I ran to the window, only to find it barred. I checked the chimney, as much as the heat of the crackling fire allowed, and found an iron grate.Bastard thought of everything,I thought, walking to the vanity set in the corner, dreading the moment I’d see my appearance.
I’d avoided it so far. During the journey, I pretended my braid was pinned up, but there was no escape from the truth now. I closed my eyes, breathing slowly to calm my racing heart, then I lifted my head and looked at the reflection of a stranger.
Muffled sobs broke free as I choked back my tears. The hair my mother loved to plait into a peasant’s crown was gone. There were days when I struggled to recall her face, but I always felt her smile when I braided my hair, and that soulless bastard had taken it all away.
Tivala’s men hadn’t sheared me bald, but it didn’t matter. All I could see was a greasy mess hanging loosely around my head like a sodden haystack, highlighting the damage. My face was so battered I couldn’t believe it was mine.
