Chapter 10

T hat night, I dream.

I dream of a slave who discovers she's a princess and is whisked away to live out her days in a castle. Except everything turns out not to be as perfect as it seemed. Waking up in a tangle of limbs, I feel like I'm still in my dream being swallowed by a large cloud. Thrashing around, I escape from the sheets that are twisted around me and look around the unfamiliar room. I realise that the cloud that's swallowing me is actually the large, soft bed that takes centre place in the room Grayson had led me to the night before. My room, at least for now.

It doesn't help that I'm still wearing my dress from the night before. I hadn't been able to undo the fiddly buttons that fastened the garment together, and there was no way I was going to ask Grayson to do it. Not after the mood he was in last night. Biting down on my lip, I climb out of the huge bed and pull my tangled skirt with me. I'll need to sneak out and see if Jayne is available to help, but for now, I want to snoop. Last night I'd been so tired I had quickly checked the room for escape routes and places to hide before climbing into bed. The combination of the stress from the day, the amount of walking and dancing, coupled with the fact that I felt truly safe in this room helped me have an undisturbed night. Well, until the nightmare anyway.

A knock on the door distracts me from my thoughts and I freeze at the unfamiliar sound.

"Clarissa? Are you awake? May I come in?" Jayne's voice reaches me through the door, and I let out a sigh of relief and nod my agreement.

Idiot, she can't see you, my inner voice sneers, and I let out a small laugh before calling out, "Yes." The doorknob rattles but no one comes in. Walking over to it, I frown, hearing Jayne's frustrated sigh at the other side of the door.

"I think you have to say that I can come in. Grayson did say that the spell requires specific words to open it."

"Oh. Yes, you may come in." As soon as I speak the words a jolt of magic tingles over my skin and the door opens seemingly by itself to reveal Jayne with her arms full of dresses. I step to the side as the maid bustles into the room, placing her burden on the end of the bed before sorting through the clothing, walking up to the wardrobe, and hanging up the garments. Tilting my head to one side I watch in fascination as she works, admiring the colours and rich fabrics as she "umms" and "ahhs," setting aside a few dresses and placing the other ones neatly away. Finally done with her task, she turns to look at me, her welcoming smile changing into a look of disapproval.

"You slept in your gown?" Stepping over to me, she gestures for me to spin around so she can help me undress.

"I couldn't undo the buttons." Shrugging, I look over the outfits she's laid out for me.

"You should have called for me, I would've come to help you." There's a pause as she starts working on the many fiddly buttons and I breathe a happy sigh as the fabric eases. I get the feeling that Jayne wants to say something else, but she holds her tongue, simply continuing to help me undress. "When I didn't receive a call, I thought perhaps Grayson had helped you out of your dress." I frown, not understanding the tone of voice she uses as she mentions Grayson helping me out of my dress. She wiggles her eyebrows as she— Oh . My face flushes red with her implication and I quickly shake my head. I'm not a virgin by any means, a quick fumble with one of the stable slaves at the house I used to work in took care of that, but it had been raw and needy, taking our own pleasure from each other's bodies. I never saw him again after that, but I hadn't been upset, there was no love, or even feelings towards each other, just another slave disappearing like so many before him.

"Oh, don't look so scandalised," Jayne says with a wicked laugh, her cackle making me want to smile despite the embarrassment that I feel at her question. Finally free of the dress, I stand before her in only my undergarments. Turning, I find her frowning at my back with a look of such sorrow that I want to reach out and comfort her.

"It's okay, they don't hurt anymore." She's seen my scars before, and to be honest, the ones around my ankles and my stomach are far worse than the many on my back, but they seem to upset her anyway. I make sure my back is facing away from her, I don't wish to upset her further, but her frown deepens and she reaches out and turns me around.

"No, don't turn away. I want to see what our kingdom is capable of." I have to bite my lip as she speaks, trying to hold still as she gazes at what years of slavery has given me. "How old were you when you got these?" Her hand touches the skin on my back and I jump under her touch, flinching away with a hiss of air between my teeth. I know she's not going to hurt me, but I've learned to associate any touch on my back as a punishment.

"It wasn't just one occasion," I answer with a shrug, brushing off the matter as if it's a menial, everyday occurrence, and truthfully, I don't remember how old I was when I received my first lashing, but I remember the pain. Jayne suddenly appears in my field of vision, shaking her head at me as she reaches out and lifts my chin and adjusts my shoulders, making me stand taller.

"Right, enough of that. You're safe now." I hadn't even realised I was hunching forward, pulling my limbs in close as if to protect myself. Standing tall, I let Jayne faff around me as her words ring in my ears. A sense of guilt has fallen over me since I woke that I can't seem to shake. I may be safe now, but the other slaves aren't, they still have to suffer like I did, if not worse. Not that there is anything I can do about it, what use would one former slave be?

You're just too scared to even try.

I don't acknowledge my inner voice, instead following Jayne's instructions, slipping away to wash before returning to her knowledgeable hand to help me dress for the day. She's picked a loose summer dress, and although the fabric is plain and the cut is modest, it's still the second nicest thing I've ever worn. The sleeves come to my wrists, neat little cuffs covering them. It'll make doing tasks difficult, but I still don't know what is going to happen today. The upper part of the dress is loose with a scooped neckline, the waist cinching in before flaring out to above my knees. Simple blue strappy sandals complete the look. I was surprised at the colour of the dress, a rich dark blue like Grayson's uniform, but the colour looks nice against my pale skin so I don't mind. I suppose seeing as I am his "guest" here, it makes sense that I wear his colours.

Stepping out of my room, I follow the directions Jayne gave me back to the sitting room where I find Grayson reading a paper while holding a steaming cup of liquid. He raises his head from his reading as he notices me enter, pausing for a second before gesturing for me to sit down. He'd been so quiet last night I worried that I'd done something wrong. Perhaps it's because I was speaking with the prince, or it's leftover emotion from whatever issue he had been dealing with after the ceremony. Biting my lip, I step towards the table and take the seat opposite him. There's an empty plate waiting for me and the table is brimming with so many different foods, it can't possibly all be for us.

"Your hair has changed back. I prefer it like this." I can feel him staring at me as I settle into my chair, but I try not to look at him, focusing instead on the impressive spread of food on the table. I had noticed this morning that my straight black hair had replaced the curling golden locks from last night, which just confirms that today is going to be different. I was glad to see my own hair back, I don't recognise myself with blonde hair, but I have to admit it was nice to fit in. My dark hair is just another reason I stand out. A bitter smell fills the room, and I try to discreetly sniff the air as I realise that it's coming from Grayson's cup.

"It's coffee," he says with a chuckle, catching me, his gaze intense as I give him a small half smile. "Would you like some?"

Shaking my head, I pull my hands into my lap, fiddling with the cuffs of my dress, nerves plaguing me as I look at the food laid out on the table.

"Help yourself," he instructs, taking a pastry from a tiered serving stand. I can feel his eyes on me as I try to decide what to have. I have no idea what any of it is, and I don't want to ask, not after how he was last night. But he seems different this morning. Seeing some slices of bread, I reach forward and take a piece, putting it on my plate and breaking it up into small pieces, eating one segment at a time. Seeing a glass of water at my side I reach for it and peer into the crystal clear liquid. I've never seen it so clear before. Lifting the glass to my lips, I take a sip and pull away in amazement. I don't know what they've put in the water, but it tastes crisp and fresh, sweet even. The water that we drink is the same water that the horses drink and it's always flecked with dirt. I suspect many deaths were caused by that unsanitary water.

"You're quiet this morning."

Dropping the piece of bread I was fiddling with, I look up at the magician, biting my lip as I try to figure out what to say. That I'm worried he's mad at me? That I don't know what anything on that table is and my stomach is cramping at seeing so much food? That I'm worried about the priests? I haven't forgotten that I have to work with them, and the change of my hair only confirms that this will start today.

"What happened last night? You said you needed to check something." I don't know if my fear made me bold, but something in my gut tells me that I need to know the answer, that this is important.

Sighing, Grayson puts down his cup of coffee and rubs at his face with his hands. "I had to talk with the other High Magicians." Leaving my half-finished breakfast on the plate, I finally look up and meet his gaze. "About you."

My throat constricts painfully, and I have to reach forward and take a gulp of water before I can ask the burning question. "What did they say?"

"We've never had anyone react to a blessing like you did. You can feel magic, so you should have magic, yet you don't." Leaning back in his chair, he runs his eyes over me like I'm a puzzle he can't figure out. "However, those who are blessed sometimes gain gifts. We think this might be your gift from the Mother." Blinking, I look down at the place on my arm where my Goddess mark is hidden by my sleeve, my whole body tingling as if just talking about it makes it react. I've never heard of people gaining gifts at blessings before, other than magic of course, but I've never attended or spoken to anyone who's been through one, so there is probably much I don't know. His explanation doesn't quite add up, as I've always been able to feel magic, it's just more pronounced since the blessing, but I keep that to myself. Thinking over what I know so far, and what Grayson's just told me, I tilt my head to one side as a thought comes to me.

"So, I'm like a magic detector?"

A bark of laughter has me looking up in time to see Grayson smiling at me, something I haven't seen since the blessing yesterday. "Something like that."

Ignoring the fact that Grayson's smile makes my insides feel all tingly, I reach for another piece of my bread, not really hungry but just wanting something to play with. "You appeared mad when you got back."

His sigh seems to fill the room and he scrubs at his face again, wincing as if what he's about to say is causing him pain. "I tried to get you out of the deal with the priests." Dropping my mangled breakfast, I look up quickly but dread builds as I see his frustrated expression. "Don't look at me like that, I haven't even told you what I'm going to say yet," he snaps, and I'm quickly reminded who I'm talking to as his magic seems to flare around him. Dropping my head, I stare at my plate, feeling his magic recede and seemingly get reabsorbed as he sighs again. "Clarissa, I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated. I rescued you from slavery, but the priests just won't let you go," he explains, and I can hear the regret in his voice, knowing that he's sorry for snapping at me. Tentatively, I glance back up at him.

"They refused and demanded that you start today. I don't know what they will have you doing, but if they harm you in any way..." His whole face darkens and my fear spikes as his magic rolls out of him once again, but it feels different than the last times I've felt it. It feels dark, malevolent. The force of it seems to grow, getting stronger as it comes closer to me, and I realise in a panic that it's going to engulf me.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I wait for it to hit, but after a few seconds, I open my eyes in confusion. I can feel the magic, it's hovering just inches from me, but it feels different. Slowly lifting my hand, I reach out into the magic. Grayson watches me with interest, and I know I'd probably look odd to a non-magic user, reaching out into nothing. It's not something I can see, but I can feel it, like a shield around me. My fingers touch it, and it seems to change yet again, twisting around my hand and enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth. The magic doesn't feel malevolent anymore, but there is an undercurrent, like it could switch at any moment.

"I've never seen my magic react that way around someone." Confusion laces his words, but his face is blank. Embarrassed, I pull my hand back as silence fills the space between us. I have no response for him, I don't understand magic and have no idea why it's different around me.

"Is that all you're going to eat?" Grayson raises an eyebrow at me, disapproval coating his words.

"I've already eaten more this morning than I would eat in a day." I don't bother to explain that my stomach is already cramping. The sweet pastries are calling to me, but I know that eating too much rich food will just make me sick. Jayne comes into the room as I speak and starts clearing away our plates, shaking her head in disgust.

"We need to start increasing your diet, you're all skin and bones. I should have thought of that already." She rolls her eyes at herself as she continues to stack up our plates. "But we'll do it slowly, no rich foods. We'll start with soups, bread, fruits, and then go from there." Arms laden with plates and trays, she smiles at me as she leaves the chamber. The urge to jump up and help fills me, and I push back my chair to do just that, but Grayson clears his throat and I return my attention to him.

"When I arrived at the ball, you were dancing with Prince Jacob." His tone is light, like he doesn't care about the answer either way, but I can tell from the small tightening around his eyes that he does. It isn't really a question, but I nod anyway. "You should be careful around him. Around all the royals."

I know this already, they were the ones that sentenced me, after all, not to mention that they're the rulers of this kingdom who deserve a certain amount of respect if you wish to keep your life. However, I suspect there is a different reason that Grayson wants me to stay away from them. "Why?"

Shaking his head, Grayson pushes up from the table and straightens out his uniform and changes the subject. "We need to go. The priests are expecting you."

Swallowing down my fear, I push away from the table and follow Grayson out of his rooms and towards the chapel.

I can feel myself shrinking the closer we get to the sanctuary. I try to stand tall like Grayson, but the weight of uncertainty makes it impossible, my head dropping as I take slow, careful steps. Last night, when I had my blonde hair and I was dressed like a lady, I almost felt like one. It was my armour, protecting me, and without it I feel like the broken slave girl that I am.

Realising I'm trailing behind, Grayson turns, a question on his lips before he takes in my appearance, and a frown mars his blank mask he wears outside of his rooms. Striding over to me, he backs me against the wall, his broad body and cloak hiding me from anyone that happens to be walking through this part of the castle.

"I won't let him harm you, he won't lay a hand on you." I flinch away at his harsh tone, even though it's not aimed at me. "He won't make it pleasant, but he can't physically hurt you." His magic flares around me as if in confirmation. Reaching out, he gently touches my chin, bringing my head up so I meet his eyes. "Stop this, don't let that bastard strip away everything you're starting to become."

He's right. Taking a deep, shaking breath, I nod in agreement. This improved me, Clarissa, might be new, but I already feel different. I never would have dreamed of walking amongst royalty, or meeting Wilson, the sweet magician who kept me safe at the ball. Not to mention the new, blooming friendship with a high magician.

Pushing away from the wall, I blush as I realise how close I am to Grayson, but thankfully he takes a step back, allowing me to brush down my clothes anxiously. He stays silent as I sort through my thoughts before I nod once more. "I'm ready."

He assesses me with a blank expression then returns my nod and gestures for me to start walking alongside him. With a small curl of my lips I begin moving again, back straight as I take slow, steady steps. The dread and fear is still there, but I control it, trusting in what Grayson said. The priests can't hurt me.

When we arrive at the chapel, Priest Rodrick is waiting for us with a sick smile on his face, but it's his gaze that makes me pause. I've seen that look before, it appears in his eyes when he's about to punish one of the slaves, a sick gleam that says he enjoys inflicting pain on others. How he got accepted into the priesthood, I have no idea.

I refuse to look down as we stand before the priest, and something else flickers in his eyes. Grayson must see it too, as he growls low, pulling Rodrick's attention to him.

"You know the rules."

Priest Rodrick simply smiles, but it's without any warmth as he turns his gaze back to me. "I won't lay a finger on her." The way he says it makes me shudder. There are ways of making someone suffer without touching them, and I know this priest is an expert at that.

"I'll know if you do," Grayson growls before turning to me, his hand brushing my shoulder, pulling my gaze from the priest. "I'll come and collect you later." I can tell he doesn't want to leave me here, but he doesn't have a choice. Nodding, I give him a twitch of my lips. It's a pathetic attempt at a smile, but he accepts it anyway. Turning away with a swish of his cloak, he immediately leaves the chapel. I don't want to think about how pain lanced through me when he didn't look back.

"So, 625, you've returned to me." The voice is close, so close I can feel his breath against my skin, and I flinch and spin around so I'm facing the priest. Never turn your back on the priests, a lesson all slaves learn quickly, and one I already seem to have forgotten. The urge to shy away is strong, ingrained in me, but I keep my back stiff as I face him down, remembering what Grayson said.

"I'm not a slave anymore. My name is Clarissa." It's shaky and quiet, but I see the shock on the priest's face the moment I say it. There is something freeing in it, and I feel the muscles that have frozen me in place start to loosen, allowing me to stand tall. Except Rodrick's face twists into one of cruel amusement, a grating laugh echoing around the sanctuary. I can't help but compare him to a spider as he creeps around me, his beady eyes locked onto me as if I'm his next meal.

"That magician may have taken you from us, but you will always be 625. Under all those pretty dresses and smiles, you are still a worthless, filthy slave, and I get to be the one to remind you of how lucky you are." He spits the word "magician" as if it's filthy, continuing to walk towards me as he talks. I feel myself freeze again as he tilts his head to one side, examining me. "The Great Mother has seen some…purpose for you." Shaking his head as if he couldn't understand why I would have been chosen, he reaches out as if to touch my chin, stopping an inch away from me. I can feel whatever magic Grayson wrapped around me start to react, little sparks of white light jumping and fluttering around me. Rodrick's face tightens as if he's in pain, but he keeps his hand there, as if proving a point. "We don't know what that purpose is yet. However, we don't trust the magician, so we are keeping an eye on you too. Just remember that, Clarissa." My new name on his tongue makes me feel sick and I jerk away from him, not wanting him anywhere near me. His warning was clear enough. No matter what I do, they will always be there, watching me.

Straightening, the priest continues to observe me for a moment before turning and beginning to walk out of the chapel. "Follow me," he demands, not bothering to turn to see if I obey his command. He knows I will do as he says, and I'm sure if I didn't he would find a way to hurt both Grayson and me. And, for some reason, the thought of Grayson being harmed makes my chest hurt.

We walk in silence through the main courtyard, past the justice pillars, before entering the castle and turning left. We could have easily left the side door and gone through the queen's courtyard, but I suspect he wants to remind me of my place. The cold, rough stone pillars, which instil fear in even the lords and ladies, have been stained red from the blood that's been spilled over the years. One of the punishments for the slaves is to scrub the blood from the pillars, but we could never remove the stains, so inevitably the slave would be punished for not completing their task.

Walking farther into the castle proper, we don't come across many people, and I suppose I have the ball to thank for that. It's still early, and while these corridors would usually be busy, thanks to all the alcohol that was flowing last night, I imagine they won't be up for some time. We are deep in the castle now, in a place I've never been, which makes me nervous. A large tapestry hangs on the wall, depicting one of our past kings in battle against the elves. It's similar to all the other tapestries, but Rodrick stops in front of this one, lifting it and revealing a wooden door. My eyes widen in shock as he removes a ring of keys from his robes and opens the door that leads to a stone staircase. My fear doubles.

There were rumours spread by the servants and slaves about a monster that lives in the castle, deep in the bowels where the king keeps it locked up. When one of the castle slaves would disappear, it was said that the beast had taken them, but I had always put it down to a story. Slaves disappeared all the time, and it wasn't because of a mysterious beast. But now, staring at the staircase and the orange glow that greets me, I'm suddenly unsure.

Rodrick turns to me and gestures for me to start walking down the stairs, his expression promising violence if I don't. My breathing speeds up and my hands tremble, but I step forward and begin to descend down into the underbelly of the castle. I'm plunged into darkness as the door shuts behind us, the air turning thick and stale as we go deeper, the priest close behind me. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realise that the orange glow is coming from the lanterns hanging on the walls. I don't know how long we descend, but we must be well below the castle by now.

"We have a special job for you." Rodrick finally breaks the silence, his voice bouncing off the stone and distorting it, making it echo around me. Spiralling down and down, I start to feel dizzy and wonder if we will ever reach the bottom just as a brighter glow appears against the walls. Reaching the last step, I see a large room lit with more lamps, and guards with crossbows sitting on benches that line the room. There are eight of them down here, all armed to the teeth, and a large metal door in the centre of the far wall.

"What you will see behind that door is something you can't speak a word of. If you do, you will be killed, Goddess mark or not. Do you understand me?" The malice in the priest's voice is clear and he makes me jump as he stands just behind me, so close I can feel the heat from his body, but I don't move as I continue to stare at the metal door. It's one of those reinforced ones that requires several keys to enter, and I know, without a doubt, that whatever is behind that door will change my life forever, the mark on my arm tingling in agreement. Why would they need such a large, heavy-duty door?

"Answer me!" Rodrick barks, making my ears ring. I jerk my head into a shaky nod of agreement.

"Yes."

Rodrick circles me, coming around to face me, a twisted smile on his face as he runs his eyes up and down my body. "Then go in there and clean until the room is spotless." He pauses. He's always enjoyed being dramatic and he doesn't disappoint this time. "If it's not, one of the guards will have to punish you."

"But you can't hurt me," I remind him, and whatever magic Grayson put over me tingles against my skin as if to prove the point. The grin Rodrick gives me makes me nervous.

"Oh, I can't, 625, but the guards can."

So that's how he's going to get around it. Looking around the room, I notice that all but one of the guards is watching me with a hunger in their eyes. Whether that's a hunger for my flesh or a hunger for my pain, I'm not quite sure, but I know they won't hesitate to administer my punishment.

A push against my back has me stumbling forward, my steps shaky as I walk towards the huge door. My heart is pounding so loudly I can hear it in my ears, but I don't miss the low chuckles of the guards as they watch.

"He's killed all his other minders. Five people have died this week," the guard closest to me states loudly, and I know this is for my benefit. His comment hits me like a blow to the stomach, but I straighten my back as I reach the door.

"How long do you think she'll last?"

"An hour, tops."

The guards continue to joke and bet about my life as if it's just a game as I stand in front of the door, waiting for someone to let me in. I refuse to cry or let them see how scared I am. Grayson is right, they don't deserve to see my fear.

"When you see him, don't stare, and don't look him in the eyes, it sets him off." The quiet voice makes me jump and I jerk away from the person who's just appeared at my side. Eyes wide, I realise it's the one guard who hadn't been watching me, the quiet one who didn't join in the other guards' taunting. "The cleaning stuff is just on the other side of the door."

Why is he being nice to me? The other guards are getting great sport out of trying to scare me, but this one is helping me. Why? Is this all part of their game? My trust isn't easily earned, but I get the feeling he is truly trying to help me.

"Thank you," I mutter, as I look up and meet his eyes, so I don't miss the slight widening or shock before he quickly hides it.

"Try not to get killed, 625," he says loudly, so the other guards can hear as he fishes in his pocket for a chunky metal key before twisting it in the lock. The clunk of the latch is loud, like the pounding of my heart, and I watch with bated breath as one of the other guards produces a second key, handing it to the first guard.

Once the door has been unlocked and the keys returned to the safety of the guards' pockets, several of them step forward and grip onto the edges of the door. The other guards raise their crossbows and aim. As if by some unspoken signal, the guards pull, their muscles bunching under their uniforms as they haul open the heavy door.

"May the Mother be with you, 625," the quiet guard whispers in my ear, before another shoves me in. The guards' laughter follows me as I enter the darkness.