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MY EYES FLICK OPEN to a thick sunbeam slanting through a crack in the drapes.
I lie there, staring at the sunbeam, idly wondering if it’s late afternoon or early morning, when the image I went to sleep on comes rushing back.
Mistress Ell injected me with something...a sedative that knocked me out cold.
Maybe it was a kindness.
Maybe she wanted to give me a good night’s sleep for my body and soul to recuperate.
A quick glance at my watch tells me it’s morning.
Stretching out onto my back, I feel an awkwardness on my shoulder blade. My reaching fingers find a spaghetti strap, then some kind of gauze wad.
All at once, awareness pulses to my brain and shoots me upright like a beanpole. I’m wearing a silk camisole and... I flip the covers aside to see a pair of silk shorts. I’d like to think Mistress Ell undressed me, who else?—but I can’t be sure. All I can think about is how I was unconscious and vulnerable.
I hate this damned place.
Hate.
Hate.
Hate!
I fling my legs over the side of the bed and catch my reflection in the mirror. My tussled hair and stricken blue eyes and the silver cross nestled in the hollow of my throat. I finger the cross, take measured breaths and stroke the cool silver over and over, but my frantic heartbeats refuse to subside.
I twist to see what’s going on with my shoulder in the mirror. It is a wad of gauze taped to my skin. What the hell? Standing to move closer to the mirror, I peel the gauze away and get a proper look at my back.
A butterfly tattoo just above my right shoulder blade. It’s small, about the size of my thumb pad. The delicate veined wings are colored in mauve and pink and ivory.
It could be beautiful.
It would be.
But in my gut, I know what this is.
A forceful rap-rap-rap snaps my gaze from the mirror. The door opens, Mistress Ell entering without waiting for permission.
I scowl at her. “You branded me.”
“You’re the property of Prince Neculai,” she drawls, pulling the door closed behind her. “The colors of your butterfly mark you for his exclusive use.”
She smiles, as if she’s just given me the most delightful news.
My scowl deepens, my hands fisting at my sides. “You sedated me.”
“For your own comfort during the procedure.”
“Who undressed me?”
She purses her lips, her nostrils flaring as she inhales. “While I applaud your modesty, I don’t appreciate the interrogation or your manner. In this house, we speak thoughtfully and act with consideration. And do wipe that scowl from your face. The only thing it will achieve is premature aging.”
My fingernails dig into my palms, my blood pumping red hot fury. I need to get a grip on my anger. Antagonizing this woman won’t get me anywhere.
Mistress Ell observes me, tapping a finger to her lips. “May I speak frankly?”
I bite down on the few frank things I’d love to hurl at her.
“I’m not a harsh woman and I prefer to avoid unpleasantries,” she goes on as she walks to the window and draws the drapes wide open to let the day inside. “Adhere to the rules of my house, and your stay here will be most enjoyable.”
Sure! Let’s just forget the part where I’m a snack bar for the prince of hell.
She turns from the window to look at me. “You’re free to wander the grounds in the mornings. Exercise is vital to good health and a cheery disposition.”
Now I’m listening. “I can go wherever I want?”
“Within reason, naturally, we rely on common sense. Fraternizing with anyone outside the House of Ell is prohibited. Lunch is served promptly at noon. Thereafter you’re confined to the house and the walled garden, so you’re readily available for a summons from the prince. Is that clear?”
I nod, the tightness in my chest releasing as a plan begins to form. Well, not an actual plan. It’s more like a to-do list.
No more ranting.
No more pity parties.
Do better.
Get out of here.
Find Kane and Gabe and get all three of us out of here.
“I had your wardrobe re-outfitted for your measurements while you slept. The dresses are for your visits to the castle. The loungewear is for everything else.” She crosses the room, pausing at the door to throw me one last look on her way out. “Breakfast is an informal affair and served until nine am. We don’t come downstairs, mind you, until we’re suitably dressed and presentable with our smiles and pretty countenances intact.”
I stand there for a long moment after the door closes behind her, wondering what the crap she was going on about. What on earth is a pretty countenance?
But none of that really matters.
I have the morning free to go wherever I want and the clock is ticking.