Caraval (Caraval, #1)(67)

“You know”—Julian turned to the count, speaking through a bloody smile—“it’s pathetic when you have to torture a man just to get a woman to be with you.”

“Maybe I was wrong about being finished here.” Governor Dragna lifted his knife once more.

Scarlett tried to break free from the count, but his arms stayed bound around her chest, cutting into her like ropes.

“You’re not making this any better,” the count hissed. Then louder, to her father, in a tone that sounded bored, “I don’t think that’s necessary. He’s just trying to get a rise out of us.” The count smirked as if he couldn’t have cared less about Julian’s words, yet Scarlett could feel the quickening of his heart and the heat of his rapid breath against her neck, even as he added, “And for the saint’s sake, give the man a handkerchief; he’s dripping blood everywhere.”

The governor tossed Julian a tiny square of cloth, but it was barely enough to soak up the blood. Scarlett could see the droplets fall to the ground as their grim party began trudging forward.

The entire journey back to La Serpiente, Scarlett tried to think of ways to escape. Despite his wound, Julian was still strong. Scarlett imagined he could have easily run away, or at least tried to fight back. But he marched silently by her father’s side while the count clutched Scarlett’s limp hand.

“It’s going to be all right,” the count whispered.

Scarlett wondered what type of delusional world he must live in to think such a thing. She almost hoped they’d find a dead body again, giving her the chance to break away. She loathed herself for the idea, but it didn’t stop her from thinking it.

When they emerged from the tunnel into Tella’s razed room, the count made an effort to dust off his coat, while Scarlett debated the benefits of running. It was clear her father had no intention of letting Julian go. He eyed Julian the way a child might ogle his younger sister’s doll right before chopping off all its hair, or its head.

“I’ll release him tomorrow, at the end of the night, after you’ve behaved yourself.” Governor Dragna wrapped an arm around Julian’s shoulder, while the cloth held to Julian’s cheek continued dripping blood.

“But, Father, he needs medical attention!”

“Crimson, don’t worry about me,” Julian said.

Obviously, he didn’t know how much worse this could get.

Scarlett tried a final time. She could see no way out of this for her, but maybe it wouldn’t be too late for Julian. If he got away, he could still save Tella, too. “Please, Father, I will do whatever you wish, but you have to let him go.”

Governor Dragna grinned. This was exactly what he wanted to hear. “I already said I’d release him, but I don’t think he wants to leave yet.” He squeezed Julian’s shoulder. “Do you feel like leaving us alone, boy?”

Scarlett tried to meet Julian’s eyes, tried to beg him to leave with a look, but he was being more stubborn than ever. Scarlett wished he’d turn back into the careless young man she’d met on Trisda. His selflessness would accomplish nothing here unless he had a death wish.

It seemed it was up to her to find a way to end this.

“I’ve got nowhere else I need to be,” Julian said. “Are we all going to go upstairs now, or do you plan to have us sleep in here?”

“Oh, we’re not sleeping together—at least, not all of us.” Governor Dragna winked and a tremor went through Scarlett. He was looking at her with the type of expression that might have lit up another person’s face before bestowing a gift—but Governor Dragna’s presents were never pleasant.

“Count d’Arcy and I have been sharing a suite, but it’s too cramped for four people. So the sailor will stay with me in there, and Scarlett”—Governor Dragna drew his words out in slow, unmistakable syllables—“you’ll be sleeping in your own room with Count d’Arcy. You’ll be married soon enough,” he went on. “And your fiancé has paid quite a sum for you. I don’t see why I need to make him wait any longer before enjoying what he’s bought.”

Scarlett’s horror escalated as her father’s mouth slanted into a new smile. This was so far from how she’d imagined things. It was horrid enough that she’d been purchased like a sheep, that a price had been placed on her, saying this was all she was worth. “Father, please, we’re not married yet, this isn’t proper—”

“No, it’s not,” Governor Dragna cut her off. “But we’ve never been a proper family, and you’re not going to complain, unless you want to watch your friend continue to bleed.” The governor stroked the unmarred side of Julian’s face.

Julian didn’t flinch, yet he no longer wore the placid expression he bore in the tunnels. Everything about him had intensified. He caught Scarlett’s eyes, a silent fire burning in his. He was trying to tell her something, though she had no clue what it was. All Scarlett could feel was the nearness of Count d’Arcy; she imagined his hands eager to claim her body, as her father’s hands were eager to inflict more pain upon Julian.

“Call it an early wedding present that I’m not mutilating him further right now,” said Governor Dragna. “But if you say another word aside from yes, my generosity ends.”