The sun's rays crept into the room, stretching across the floor to reveal the specs of dust lingering in the air. The light settled on the table, left with an empty bottle of rum.
Rose petals were scattered to the side of the bed.
On the bed, Ophelia laid alone. Her body stirred as she woke up.
It was normal for Ophelia to wake early to start her duties.
Ophelia's eyes opened to the missing view of her husband. The man who laid beside her during the night was no longer present.
Ophelia rubbed her eyes as she sat up.
"Ow," Ophelia groaned.
The events of last night still weighed her body down.
Ophelia looked around the room for any signs of what had become of her now husband.
"He left to see the king," Ophelia muttered.
The king, being the one who pushed for peace between the two families, wanted Dante to visit the palace.
Joel hated that only Dante was shown great favour by the king to be invited to the palace, but Ophelia welcomed not having to see Dante.
Ophelia carefully slid to the edge of the bed, and as her feet touched the cold floor, the door opened wide, revealing Cecilia with Giselle behind her.
"Search it," Cecilia's cold voice ordered the maids.
Ophelia pulled on a blanket to cover her naked body, but it was snatched by the maids who were in deep search for what Cecilia wanted.
Ophelia didn't put up a fight and let the maids have the blanket.
The blanket was taken to Cecilia to examine.
"She bled. Well, one thing you promised us is right. We depart now," Cecilia announced, turning to leave. "Have her ready by the time the horses are hooked to the carriage."
Giselle made way for Cecilia to pass. She smiled from ear to ear since she had good news to share with Joel.
"Ophelia, dear. You did it," Giselle said, her concerns fading. "You have joined the two families. You must be proud of yourself."
"My body aches," said Ophelia.
Giselle sat on the bed and tucked Ophelia's messy hair behind her ear. "It is what a woman must endure, but now that the worst of it has passed, it shall get better. He will be gentle from here on out as long as you behave."
"I have behaved, yet I feel like I have been beaten. You promised I would get to see my brother before I leave," Ophelia said, her interest only in her brother's state.
Giselle turned away from Ophelia, not in the mood to speak of her son. "If you were wise, you would think only of yourself now. You should be plotting how to get Lady Cecilia on your side. Give them a child. Then your days will be better."
"You always spoke of children being the source of your misfortune-"
A slap from Giselle rendered Ophelia silent.
"It still stands that you are my misfortune. You may now be the wife of Lord Hastings, but you are still my daughter, and your brother is in my care. You won't see him now since you must depart," Giselle said, standing up from the bed.
Ophelia bit her tongue. She should have known better than to trust her mother.
Giselle never kept her promises when it came to Ophelia.
"You must rise, Ophelia. Do not anger them on your first day as a Hastings. You must do something about that unsightly body. Have a doctor tend to you," Giselle suggested.
Giselle looked away from Ophelia, unable to bear the sight of what Joel did to Ophelia. She would feel sorry for Ophelia if it weren't for the fact that Ophelia angered Joel.
"We don't have time for the servants to bathe you. You must wear a fine dress," Giselle said, wanting to make Ophelia as beautiful as possible.
"What fine dress? I have only the second-hand dresses from your daughters," Ophelia pointed out.
Giselle turned to Ophelia, giving up on helping her. "Then wear them. I try to offer you advice, but you do not take it. I am kind to have it arranged for your brother to send letters to you. I shall let that be the end of my kindness."
Giselle stormed out of the room, leaving Ophelia to fend for herself. In time, Ophelia was going to regret not listening to her.
Ophelia slowly got up from the bed and dressed herself to leave with the Hastings.
It was strange to think that from now on, they would be her family.
Not long after getting dressed in garments set out for her, Ophelia was rushed outside to the carriage and carts where the remaining Hastings were gathered.
Joel Valthorn was present to send the esteemed guests off. He looked down upon Ophelia, visibly upset with her appearance.
No matter what name they gave Ophelia or how they dressed her up, she would always be the daughter of a servant. Her appearance couldn't hide it.
"Stand up straight," Joel spoke softly. "With every decision you make, remember your brother is in my care."
Ophelia fixed her stance and looked ahead at the carriages meant to take her off to her fate.
"The Valthorns wish you a safe passage across the lands. We will meet again soon at the king's banquet," Joel said, bidding farewell to Cecilia.
Joel's mouth twitched due to discomfort from a forced smile.
"We don't have time to waste," Cecilia said, turning to enter the carriage.
Joel's smile vanished once Cecilia's back was turned. "Go," he ordered Ophelia.
Ophelia walked forward. Each step was heavy as though chains were wrapped around her feet.
She didn't want to leave, but she was powerless and had no way to care for her brother.
Ophelia entered the carriage where Cecilia and her maid awaited her. She didn't bother to look out the carriage window since there was no one worth waving goodbye to.
The carriage soon departed, setting course for the Hastings land.
Silence filled the carriage, with Cecilia glaring at Ophelia.
Ophelia didn't pay any attention to it. She was captivated by the Valthorn land, which she had not seen since she first arrived years ago.
She was a prisoner of the Valthorn estate since her mother found herself so lucky to marry Lord Valthorn, and now, she was leaving to be a prisoner of the Hastings.
It was hours later when the carriage reached vast flower fields still on the Valthorns' land that the carriage stopped abruptly, and guards came to open the door.
Ophelia gripped her dress. She knew nothing of the Hastings to predict if they would kill her here.
Cecilia smiled triumphantly. "Get out," she ordered Ophelia.