Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

Cassia

I'm so tired. I've never cleaned this much before. I could clean the whole Summer castle and still not work as hard as I do here. Fucking slobs.

Many of the people here leave during the day, after eating the breakfast I've made and not even thinking to put a dish in the sink or pick up any bits of food they've dropped on the ground. When they come back in the evening, they have bags and bags of stolen goods. I've been poor my whole life, but I never stole people's property. Well, not until the meat. But I've never stolen someone's hard-earned belongings.

But that's not the worst part.

This heavy ass ball and chain they tied to my ankle really slows me down, with the added benefit of irritating my skin. Fun, huh? Cleaning up after them as they all lie around drunk is even harder with this thing dragging behind me. Plus, they really seem to enjoy me struggling with it .

Tiny-dicked cocksuckers.

I'm sweeping the floor extra hard, jerking my leg with the ball and chain to make it roll and keep up with me every few feet, all while thinking about the different ways I'm going to kill these guys when I can. And trying not to wonder if the four princes are even looking for me, because that line of thought hurts too much.

"Hey, fae bitch! Get this plate!" some drunken asshole yells at me, holding out a plate covered in food.

I'm in no mood for this bullshit tonight. He's now moved up to first on my "Stab Him in the Throat When This is Over" list. I know his type, though. He'll make a bigger deal about this than necessary if I don't hop to it. I try to move with some urgency, but that goddamn ball and chain makes that impossible.

"Fae bitch! Move faster!" he yells, holding the plate by just a few fingers. I can't move any faster, and he lets the plate slip from his fingers and shatter on the ground. Fuck.

This awakens some of the men around him who've been sleeping off their intoxication. They all grumble at me. It's not my fault this waste of space dropped the plate in his impatience. I have a fucking ball and chain attached to my ankle.

I trudge over to the shattered plate, cursing these men and the ball and chain with each step. Etha just watches from the couch, her soulless eyes showing no emotion at what she's allowing them to do to me. Sometimes I hate her the most, but I'm also oddly grateful she's here because none of these men have come near me at all, and I think it's because of her.

"Hey, I heard you have four men back at your palace. Can you handle all of that?" a man asks me, raising his eyebrows and grinning.

I roll my eyes. "That's strange. I heard a rumor too: that you can't even keep it up for your five fingers."

Etha lets out a hearty laugh, and the man glares at me, shifting on the spot on the floor where he sits. Okay, maybe it's not smart to antagonize the men, but I learned pretty quickly that they don't mind me being a little mouthy, as long as I do what I'm told. Hell, Etha seems to like it, so maybe I can foster that into a way out of here.

Maybe. It seems like my only option right now.

The same man continues glaring at me, and I try not to notice, but it's hard not to. The asshole has a film of grime covering him from head to toe, and his gaze never leaves me as I sweep and dump the shards into the trash pile. It's unsettling, but I focus on my task and move on to the next chore on my list.

He keeps watching, glaring actually, while I gather all of the dishes from between the drunken slobs, careful not to let the ball hit them, though I'm badly tempted to let it accidentally run into one or two of them. There are a lot of plates and cups to gather, and I refuse to have to make another trip, so I do my best to balance them all in my arms.

I lose sight of him as I make my way to the kitchen. I get to sit down after I'm done washing them, so I work quickly, focusing on that. The thing is, as much as I'm trying to stay hopeful, I'm beat. My days here last forever. The only thing I look forward to at night are my dreams, dreams that are filled with the princes, who I miss more than I would have ever thought. Sometimes I even get the strangest ache in my chest when I think about them .

An elbow in my back jolts me, and I drop the cup I'm washing. It shatters in the sink.

"Son of a bitch!" I yell, swirling around. He followed me. My heart races. I haven't been alone like this with any of these men, and the look in his eyes creeps me out. "Get out of here. Don't take a step closer!" I warn him, holding a plate in my hand, knowing I can use it as a weapon if I need to.

He doesn't say a word, just moves with lightning speed and grabs my ass with one hand while trying to grope me with the other. This stupid asshole. I smash the plate on his head.

My attacker staggers, disoriented from the plate, and I use that split second to punch him square in his nose. Anger boils in his eyes as he focuses on me again. Anger and surprise.

Before he can attack again, I use my free leg to kick him in the groin. That's my favorite move. Even the toughest man can't do anything but drop to his knees, which this asshole does immediately.

"You thought I was some delicate royal fae, didn't you?" I say, then curl my hands into fists.

I shift back and watch him trying to get back up. His hands are on the ground, and he forces himself up. He sways on his feet, groaning. I let a smile dance across my face before I launch myself forward and kick him in the chest with all of my strength, sending him crashing backwards.

He lays on the ground, moaning. I'm panting and frozen, unable to figure out what to do next. I hope I don't get into trouble. Assaulting women can't be something that's allowed here, even with them all being ingrates. Can it ?

I don't care. Punishment or not, I'm glad I handled this guy. Maybe it'll teach him not to try again. Don't they say that the best thing to do in prison is to beat up the biggest guy? He might not be the biggest, but maybe this will send a message to the other men.

Etha strolls into the kitchen quietly. She's so frighteningly calm even as her gaze runs over him and me that I'm more afraid of her than I am of this asshole. "What's going on?" she asks, her voice light and curious. Too light.

Fuck. What have I gotten myself into?

I stand up a little taller. It seems best just to tell the truth and let the cards fall how they will. "He came in here and elbowed me," I start, my breathing coming in puffs between my words. "Then he started feeling me up. I knew he was going to take it further if I didn't protect myself, so I had to beat his ass."

There. That was the truth. A little defensive, but the truth.

Etha slowly walks over to the man who's regained his composure all of a sudden, and the way she moves reminds me of a cat stalking its prey. Even in the small space, her movements are fluid and graceful but humming with an unspoken threat.

The man's face is pale, and his eyes are wild. "Etha, you can't belie…"

Etha's blade is in her hand, and she slits his throat before he can even finish his sentence. I'm stunned and stand there blinking, breathing so quickly I get dizzy. But it's real. It all just happened. So says the body now lying on the floor, blood spilling out from around it at an alarming rate.

"We aren't fae ," she begins, and the way that she says fae has some disgust to it. "The fae might force themselves onto women…" She pauses. Her eyes are filled with pain for a moment before she resumes. "But that's not what happens here. I'll never allow it. I'll never allow another woman to end up like–"

Me. I know that's what she was going to say. I know from the look on her face. And now, I suspect, I know both the people responsible for the scars covering her body and why she was involved in kidnapping me in the first place.

It's strange. Some small part of me feels sorry for her, feels disgusted at the thought of what happened to her. And some other part of me? It doesn't care. It's too afraid of the woman with the bloody dagger to worry about what led her to becoming a monster.

I stand there with my eyes darting from the now dead man on the floor and the woman in front of me. Am I next? If she can kill him that easily, what's to stop her from doing the same to me?

Her face is neutral again, and she's staring at me. "Clean this up."

Clean this up? The fucking dead man? My eyes go wide. I glance back down at the body, and when I look up again, she's gone. Hell. I don't know where to start. I can do many things, but I really don't know if I can do this.

But I don't have a choice.

My stomach lurches, and my hands tremble as I approach the lifeless body. Dread washes over me like I've jumped into a frozen lake. I've had to do a lot of terrible things in my life, but handling a dead person is not among those things. This man might have been a creep, but I didn't want his blood on my hands.

This place is even more dangerous than I thought.

My vision gets blurry, so I close my eyes and try to think about what I need to do, like I'm going to approach this like any other cleaning job. I take a deep breath and realize that I need to get him out of the house. He's bleeding all over the floor, and I'm going to have to clean that up, too.

My feet are bricks as I step closer to him. Do I grab him by the shoulders? I gag. No, that's too close to that bloody gash across his neck. I have to grab him by his feet and drag him out. It's the only way.

The walls seem to be closing in on me, but I have no alternative. There's no one to help me. I have to persevere until I can find a way out of this situation.

When I finally get the strength to touch his feet, I feel a shiver roll down my spine. I close my eyes again to collect myself, and I muster all the strength I have to drag him out the back door. Luckily, because of his weight, how gross this is, and my ball and chain, it's a short distance. I drag him just out of the way of the entrance, then release him.

Turning around, I don't look back at him. Instead, I creep back into the house to face the rest of the task: cleaning his blood off the floor. Maybe Etha will make me bury the body later. But for now, I'll just do what I was told.

I move on unconsciously, detached from reality. I try to convince myself that I'm cleaning animal blood from a hunt, but it doesn't work. Guilt and horror roll through me. I watched the life drain from the man, and I'd just dragged his dead body out of the house. I'd made this trail of blood I'm cleaning up.

And I haven't been here long. This is just the beginning.

When I'm done, I wash myself at the kitchen sink, until my skin is pink and raw, then I collapse by the fire in the kitchen, knowing that this will stay with me forever. The image of his dead body will never leave my mind, no matter what happens to me here.

I just hope my family and the princes are doing better than I am.