Chapter 36
Summer had drawn its final breath, its warmth fading as the first whispers of autumn took hold. The leaves had begun their slow descent into amber and russet, the crisp bite of the wind hinting at colder days to come. I no longer caught sight of Millicent, Vincent, Isaac, nor Laura. They had vanished from my world as if they had never been there at all. That should have been a relief, should it not? Yet, my heart felt hollower than it ever had before.
The words I had hurled at Millicent that day echoed in my mind. The look in her eyes as she took that lollipop, why did it haunt me so? I should not care. I had told myself so a thousand times. And yet, I could not stop myself from thinking that perhaps I had been too cruel.
By the time I reached home, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting golden streaks across the sky. Kyle had just finished chopping wood, an armful of logs cradled against his chest as he made his way inside.
I followed after him, stepping through the doorway with the heaviness of one dragging chains.
"Welcome back, love," Kyle greeted warmly as he tossed a log into the hearth.
"Thank you, Kyle," I replied, forcing a smile as I lowered myself onto a chair at the dinner table. "How was your day?"
He perked up. "Heard somethin' interestin'. You wanna hear, love?"
I did not, but I gave a small nod, though I hardly had the energy to feign curiosity.
"Heard the Duchess of Ivoryspire went back home a while ago," he said, tossing another log into the fire. "They're sayin' she and Prince Kaldric are courtin', so reckon she'll be back soon enough. Real soon."
My fingers curled slightly against my lap. So, she had left Zalvanica.
"Oh, and get this. Heard Marquess Lorynthall's been caught and locked up in Ivoryspire! The duchess herself charged him with illegal slave tradin' in her lands."
She finally caught him, just as she had promised. She lured that wretched man into Ivoryspire, where both illegal slave trading and the possession of Zar stones were met with swift and merciless justice. I should feel something, perhaps satisfaction, perhaps relief, but there was nothing. Only silence.
Anthony Lorynthall.
A father in name alone.
The architect of my ruin.
There was a time when I pondered the reason why he forbade me from venturing beyond the iron gates of the estate for over a decade. Why he cloistered me away, kept me ever radiant, ever composed, ever yielding to his will. Why he compelled me to perfect the graces of courtly conduct and to wield the art of seduction, yet withheld from me all knowledge of the world beyond those confining walls. Why he denied me instruction in maps, in currency, in matters of governance and commerce. Why I had never beheld a newspaper, nor taken passage in a carriage, nor tasted even the most meagre liberties that the daughters of lesser noble houses enjoyed without thought. Why my meals were rigidly dictated, forbidding me the indulgence of sweets and many other delights so readily afforded to others.
And then, I understood.
I was a commodity, a carefully cultivated treasure meant to be sold at a high price.
He could not bear the stain of my imperfections, the shame of a daughter who did not fit within the pristine mold of his ambitions. So, he hid me. Groomed me for a singular purpose. He was not raising a child, he was preparing merchandise.
Day by day, my anger grew, swelling within me like a caged beast, my temper a raging fire I had to smother lest it consumed me entirely. But I was not the only one bound to his wretched design.
Cecilia, my poor Cecilia, was shackled to that life as well.
And the first time he deemed us worthy to step beyond the grand gates of the Lorynthall estate was not for freedom-
It was the day he was ready to sell us.