Cinderella Is Dead(24)

Two guards stand holding another man between them. He struggles against them, and the guard on the left delivers a swift punch to the man’s ribs. He doubles over. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

Luke.

édouard, in his stained jacket, his brother Morris at his side, stands in front of Luke. “This man thinks he can make a mockery of this time-honored tradition, and I will not stand for it!”

The king appears at the other side of the crowd, flanked by his guards. He smiles as he watches the scuffle, and I am taken aback by how happy he looks. His eyes seem lighter than they had when he was perched atop his throne, his face seems less stern, and his entire demeanor has changed.

“Luke knows full well my brother intended to claim—” He searches the crowd until his gaze lands on me. “Her.”

I stifle the urge to vomit. Morris grins, and I think back to what could have made him assume I was remotely interested. He doesn’t even know my name. But I realize that it has less to do with me and more to do with making a fool of Luke.

“The rules are clear,” édouard continues. “Morris comes from a family of higher class, better breeding, and so Luke’s claim is void. But I admire his efforts. Truly.”

Luke slips the guard’s grip and lands a clean jab on édouard’s chin, sending him stumbling back. édouard rushes in, his fist raised. I scream out in terror, and the king’s head snaps up. He looks directly at me.

“Enough,” orders the king.

édouard stops in his tracks, lowering his hand. The king signals his guards, and they scoop Luke up and drag him through the same door where they’d taken Liv. As the crowd disperses, some of the guards laugh with édouard and Morris.

My heart sinks. Luke was my only chance to get out of here, but beyond that, now I’m worried something terrible is going to happen to him. Scanning the room for Erin, I don’t see her, but the suitors are watching me. I hear some of them whispering. Stumbling over my own feet as the crowd presses in, I catch sight of édouard whispering something to Morris, who then makes his way straight toward me.

“Hello again,” he says. “I’m very sorry you had to see that.” The air whistles in and out between his broken teeth as he lies to my face. “I think you and I should get to know each other a little better now that I’ve made my intentions clear.” He runs the tips of his fingers over the exposed skin of my shoulders.

“Where have they taken Luke?” I ask.

“I’ll ask you, because I’m a gentleman, not to mention his name,” says Morris, pressing in on me. “But I’m sure he’ll be dealt with in whatever manner the king feels is appropriate.”

Tears well up. “You made no mention of a claim. You were lying.”

Morris frowns. “Don’t tell me you were actually happy about Luke’s claim on you.”

“I was.”

He sighs heavily and takes my hand in his, squeezing it tight. “Do not embarrass me in front of all these people. I’ll need you to smile, and even if you’re not happy, you’ll need to act the part.” He leans in and presses his lips to mine. I try to pull away, but he holds me close. He smells like wine and sweat, and all I want to do is get away from him.

I step back and bring my knee up as hard as I can—right between his legs. His blunted yelp makes the people around us stop and stare. The look on Morris’s face switches from anger to bewilderment, and finally agony. Before he has a chance to recover from the shock, I duck off and run to the empty powder room. I slam the door closed and frantically look for an exit.

The only door is the one I just came through, and there is only one narrow window. No closet, no wardrobe, nowhere I can hide. My heart crashes inside my chest. I glance at the window again.

I reach under my skirts and rip off the farthingale, unhooking it and letting it fall down around my ankles. I strip off the underlayers of petticoats, leaving just the shell of the dress. Reaching behind me, I struggle to untie the knot at the back of the corset. I can’t manage it. After kicking off my shoes, I push open the small window and hoist myself up. I’m halfway through when someone grabs ahold of my ankle.





11





“We’ve got a runner!” the guard yells.

Images of the woman they’d caught on the border flash in my head. I bring up my leg and kick the guard as hard as I can, breaking his grasp. I pull myself the rest of the way through, tumbling down onto the roof of another structure just under the window.

The air is chilly, and I can see out over the rear of the castle grounds. The wind catches the hem of my gown and whips it around my ankles. I struggle to keep myself upright as I inch along the roof. The guard yells, trying to come out the window after me, but he can’t fit. I keep moving and glance over the edge. The ground isn’t too far. I can make it if I jump.

I gather myself and prepare to leap when the roof I’m balancing on gives way with a sickening crack. Grasping at air, I fall, landing on my back, the breath punched out of me.

I roll onto my side, heaving, pain spiraling down my leg. I scramble to my feet and look around. Cold and dank, the narrow passageway smells of dust and stale water. It’s unlit except for the moonlight that shines through a row of small windows at the top of the outer wall and through the hole in the ceiling that I’d fallen through. Several doors line the interior wall, all of them bolted from the outside with big brass locks. The sound of water dripping echoes down the corridor, and music from the great hall wafts in like a whisper.