Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
I watch her curtsey to my brother, feeling all too much like I’m watching a sheep being led to slaughter.
“It’s nice to meet you,” says Elizabeth. Her voice is meek. Her eyes downcast. She’s overwhelmed. And why shouldn’t she be?
“They haven’t dyed your hair yet,” says my brother, reaching to lift a strand of her hair.
Elizabeth flinches at the touch. “N-no. I just got here.”
Titus laughs, but the sound is a little too forced--a little too high pitched. It’s the way he laughs when he’s losing his temper. “Leave us,” he says, turning sharply so that his back is to her. “And when you bring her before me next time, see to it that she is properly prepared,” he says.
Elizabeth’s forehead wrinkles as the servants urge her backwards. Our eyes meet for a heartbeat. Run from here, I think. Run from here while you still can, Elizabeth. This place glitters in the light, but look in the shadows and you’ll find the truth. You’ll find monsters far worse than you ever imagined.
5
Elizabeth
I’m half-dragged from the huge reception area, head still spinning. Titus was just as attractive as I remembered from the restaurant. He looked like he could have been the model for a Ken doll or something--strong features, muscles, blonde hair, and a smile that I’m sure gets him what he wants with most women. But when I met his eyes I felt something that made my skin crawl. I can’t explain it, not in a way that makes sense, but it was like looking into the eyes of something dead, something just pretending to be alive.
And the way he dismissed me because of my hair…
It was as if he had been presented with some expensive parcel that wasn’t entirely to his liking. There was no recognition in his eyes that he might offend me with his words, as if he was just talking about an object with a flaw.
I suddenly feel more like a prisoner than a Princess, and I find myself watching carefully as I’m led back to my room, trying to memorize the way back down to the main area of the palace where I can possibly escape.
Escape though? Am I really thinking of it already? I shouldn’t be so surprised that my mind wanders there. After all, less than three hours ago, I was sitting at dinner with my family. Now it’s like I’ve stepped into some other reality and it’s becoming my reality fast--too fast. When I looked into Prince Titus’ eyes, I saw that he wasn’t a man who would let me go once he had a hold over me. If I stay here any longer, I may never be able to leave.
The spacious palace seems to close in around me as my thoughts race, as if the walls themselves are listening in to my doubts. How hard could it be to leave, though? They would never expect me to escape, first of all. And if I smuggled some food with me, I think I might be able to hike the distance back to the tunnel, and then I could risk hitchhiking. I could even try making a phone call, but I haven’t seen my phone since I arrived. I could’ve sworn I had it in my bag, but come to think of it, I haven’t seen my bag either.
“I’m so sorry about that, Princess,” says Marcella as I follow her up the winding staircase to my room. “Prince Titus specifically requested that you be brought to him right away, but dyeing your hair in the customary way would’ve taken nearly an hour. There was no way to have it done in time.”
“It’s fine,” I say more coldly than I intend. I’ve already dismissed these people, haven’t I? I’ve already written them off because I know there’s no way I’m staying here. There’s no way I’m going to marry that man with the dead eyes and the charming smile. God, how could this dream turn into a nightmare so quickly?
“I’d just like some rest,” I say once we reach my room.
The women nod, hurrying to leave me, apparently ready to get away before I decide to snap at them for bringing on Titus’ anger. Blaming them would be stupid, and if I wasn’t so preoccupied, I would’ve taken the time to ease their minds before they left.
I sigh, sinking down on the edge of my bed. “You’re still here?” I ask Calian, who stands near the staircase leading up to my room, hands folded in front of him.
“Is there something you wish to speak about?” asks Calian.
“I really just need some sleep,” I say.
Calian says nothing, but his wise eyes linger on me, challenging my lie until the weight of silence forces me to speak. I don’t ask the first question on my mind, instead hoping I can convince him to stop prodding me.