The darkness inside the carriage was absolute. Delia was tossed back and forth with the rough, jolting motion of the wheels on the uneven country road. The air was hot and stuffy, thick with the smell of dust and the foul, clothy taste of the handkerchief stuffed in her mouth. Pain throbbed in a dull, nauseating rhythm at the side of her head, and the rough rope bit into the skin of her wrists, which were bound tightly behind her back.
"Where is he taking me?" she wondered, her mind fighting through the fog of pain and fear. She had to know. She had to see where they were going.
With a grunt of effort, she began to struggle, shifting her weight and using the wall of the carriage for leverage. Her body ached in protest, and her head spun with a dizzying feeling, but she ignored it.
