CHAPTER 1
1812
A Dark Room, Somewhere on Dry Land
It was a universal truth that when the world was dark, it was time to rest.
A light shined in my eyes. The sleep I desperately sought on the lumpy cot was stolen again. The smell of sulfur, the horrible rotten egg smell came from a plaster preparation to someone two cots away. Twenty beds in this forsaken place.
“Ma’am, if you can’t tell me your name, I’ll have to remand you to custodial care.”
This man and his minions had stripped me of my clothes like I was aragamuffin. The ring, the band that left a light circle about my finger was ripped from my hand. I was lucky to have a chemise on my shaking limbs.
The fool pried at one eyelid and waved the candle again. “Who are you? Answer me.”
How was I supposed to respond to such a rude request? I told him and everyone who’d listen: I didn’t know. A hundred times I said this and sobbed until my throat was raw. A hundred and one utterances wouldn’t make it different.
No one listened.
All was gone.
Nothing rattled in my head but the sharpest sense of loss.
My arm bent beneath me, under my bosom like a bad habit. I should be holding something close, something precious, something mine.
Gone.
I was angry and wanted to sleep.
The tall man tossed up his hands. “I give up. She’s gone mute.”
His footsteps echoed like I was trapped in a bottle. The hospital door opened. Light crept in, blinding me, hiding the shadowy faces, the men making decisions.
Didn’t care anymore.Ol’ Jancros. The thieves. The thieves took everything.
“Are you sure she’s Jemina St. Maur?” the physician asked.
A mumbled voice answered him.
“She’s in shock. We can’t put her out, not like this.”
“Doesn’t matter. Bedlam.” Those words were clear. The Ol’ Jancros were set to send me away. The name didn’t sound like home. Nothing did.
“That place is for the lunatics, sir. She’s just come from a wreck. She’s lost everything. She needs more time to grieve.”
Footsteps. Footsteps echoed. Outside of this room, it all disappeared. I was left with people more hurt than me. Some died. I heard the gasps. That I remembered.
I needed to be gone.
Where? I was too angry to choose. A nap would make things clearer. If I could close my eyes, I could make it all go away.
The old man returned and shined that awful light one more time. “This is your last chance. Who are you? Defend yourself or you’ll be sent to Bedlam. You don’t want to go there. It will take a miracle to get out.”
Raising up on my elbow, I stared him down, through his smudged spectacles and breath of rancid coffee. “I lost everything. Does it matter?”
The old prune frowned and wrote something on paper.
Turning away, I balled up into my ratty blanket. No more answering questions when no one would answer mine.
