“He can’t keep us away from you for a whole month.”
I pull back and meet her sable eyes. “Yes, he can, Faye.”
With the exception of taking my virginity, he can do whatever he wants.
“But you’re my queen.” Faye blinks rapidly, and it’s enough to harden my heart against the man forcing us apart because she doesn’t get emotional. She gets angry, indignant, righteous.
She doesn’t do tears, but she’s holding them back now.
“As your queen, I’m ordering you to go. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
“Faye,” Elise says in a soft lilt, “we have to do what’s best for Novalee.” She grabs Faye’s hand, giving it a subtle tug, and wordlessly, they follow Mr. Bordeaux’s manservant out of the library.
I’m frozen to the spot, fighting tears, fearful of turning around and confronting the heartless man who just sent my only support system away for the next month.
“Don’t stand with your back to me.”
I pivot. “Why did you send them away?” Anger vibrates in my limbs, rushing through my blood until I’m brimming with it. I embrace the sting in my eyes, unwilling to shed a single tear in his presence.
He appears unmoved by my outburst, his expression wooden as his stride brings him within arm’s reach. “It’s not your place to question me.” He points to the floor. “Kneel.”
I go down, my mind flashing back to a month ago when my uncle forced me to my knees for the chancellor. Unwittingly, my attention darts to Mr. Bordeaux’s zipper.
Unlike Liam, he’s not aroused.
I cling to that small favor.
“Down on your haunches.”
My ass meets the back of my heels.
“Bow your head.”
Aiming my gaze at the floor, I follow his movement from the corner of my eye as he wanders behind me.
“Hands on your thighs, palms up.” He murmurs his approval after I do what I’m told. “Good. This is how you’ll kneel in my presence. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mr. Bordeaux,” I say, lifting my head enough to peek at him as he approaches the other side of me.
“I see you’ve learned a little respect since our meeting in the chancellor’s penthouse.” Three more steps brings him full circle. “But there’s room for improvement.”
My pulse ratchets as one word blares in my mind, as loud and panic-inducing as a scream.
Dungeon.
“I’ll do my best to learn, Mr. Bordeaux.”
Anything to get through the next thirty days unscathed.
“Queens are to be seen, not heard. You will not speak unless spoken to. Do you understand?”
I don’t understand at all.
“Do you understand, my queen?” he enunciates slowly.
I stutter out an answer. “Y-yes…but…what if I need to say something?”
“It’s yes, Mr. Bordeaux.” His ire lands in the thump of his shoes as he circles me once more. “If you feel the need to speak, then you’ll raise your hand, and I’ll either grant permission or deny it.”
I lick my lips, eliminating the question weighing on my tongue.
The one I can’t ask.
The one I’m afraid to learn the answer to.
What happens if I break his rules?
“We’ll begin with a training session in the dungeon. You need to know this isn’t a punishment. I’m giving you the necessary information and training so you know, without a doubt, what your duties and boundaries are.”
Maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe his cold detachment will mean more distance between us. The lump of dread in my belly warns otherwise.
Mr. Bordeaux thrusts out a hand. “You may rise.”
I get to my feet, and despite the alarm blaring through my head, I raise my eyes to his as our palms press together.
Displeasure pulls at his mouth. “We have a lot to cover.” With a tug of my hand, he urges me toward the door, and I follow him as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Chapter Two
I don’t have many negative memories of my childhood before my parents’ plane went down. The first twelve years of my life were filled with love, laughter, and a sense of security I’m not sure I’ll ever experience again.
But one incident springs to the forefront of my mind as I descend a steep staircase behind Mr. Bordeaux, scones flooding warm light onto the brick walls as our feet scuttle down utilitarian plank steps.
It was the year before my parents died, and Faye and I escaped into the wine cellar, pretending to run from an evil dragon that would take us to the Black Prince—a handsome young boy who intended to enslave us in the tower of his castle.
Instead, we ended up enslaving ourselves in the cellar, trapped by an ill-fated jammed door and a busted light maintenance hadn’t yet fixed since it went out the day before. To pass the hours until someone finally found us, we huddled in the dark, pretending the darkness kept us safe from the dragon.
But real life doesn’t work like that. Darkness is a stifling entity I now despise, and there isn’t a thing on Earth that will keep the dragon away.