The Beast's Ward

Chapter Thirteen: Captivity

"Forgive me." Christopher's voice suddenly turned stern. He yanked himself free of me, fighting against some unseen force that held him there with me. He fled the room, slamming my bedroom door shut behind him.

I flung myself at the door. "Christopher?" I cried, not understanding what was happening. "What are you doing? Let me out!" I pleaded, fear strangling my voice.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I ever brought you here." I heard him repeat again and again from the other side. I could hear the tears clearly in his voice. "She's commanded me and I must obey. Forgive me for being such a cruel liar. I don't deserve your kindness. Any of it." He sobbed. "Forget about me, Isabel. Hate me. Hate me and refuse her and all of her gifts. Leave this place. Forget I even exist. It's...better this way." He growled into the door. Nails scraped down it as he turned away. I heard heavy footsteps soften as they descended down the staircase then they became the scratching of claws against the floorboards. Then he was gone and I was alone again in the dark.

I tugged at the doorknob, but the door would not open. "Christopher! Come back!" I screamed until my throat burned and my voice became distorted. I banged at the door, clawed at it until my fingers bled, the skin turning black and blue. 

I sat in front of the door. My head rested against it as I stared up at the white ceiling overhead. Oddly, there were no tears. I accepted the fact that I had become the very thing that Christopher swore I would never be. A captive. Really, I was ashamed that I hadn't been expecting it.

He said he only wished to protect me, but this did not seem like protection. Keeping a bird in a cage may keep it from being eaten by the pet cat, but it will never know the joys of flight. What kind of life is that, really? I had spent my entire life like that, never free to go anywhere without someone with me, be it my father, a tutor or a maid. As a child, I had rebelled against such restraints. I begged my father constantly to let me go into the market alone or to at least allow me to venture into our small garden without Mrs. Blackmoore. Yet that freedom had always been denied out of fear of me being found by the one woman whose roof I now slept under. Captivity was the last experience I ever wanted to feel again. Yet, here I was. I don't know exactly when I fell back to sleep, but exhaustion finally took me again into the blissful nothingness of sleep. I didn't dream and I was glad of it.

The next morning, I was stirred awake by a servant. It brought me a meal and helped me to dress before escorting me down to the dining room where my dear Aunt Rosalyn awaited. New books were laid out on the table, their spines already spread open to a new spell.

"How was your night, My Dear?" Rosalyn cooed. She sat in her chair dressed all in pearly gray, her golden hair twisted into bountiful ringlets.

The words that burst from my lips were as cold and unyielding as steel. "Why did you command Christopher to seal me in my room? Are you afraid of what I might do with my newfound gifts?" I demanded. My hands curled into tight fists at my sides.

She smirked at me. "You may believe that if you wish, but the fact of the matter is that you have proven yourself untrustworthy, so until your admittance to The Smoke and Mirror's Club, you will be contained to your room. The only time you'll be allowed outside of it is to attend our little tutoring sessions." She made a slight gesture with her hand, a flickering of her fingers, and a servant appeared at her side to fill her teacup. She sipped from it, sighing at its taste and warmth. "As for Christopher, you needn't worry about him any longer. You won't be seeing him again."

Everything shuttered to a stop. My heart stilled. My lungs refused to fill with air. My knees shook so violently, I sank down into my chair at the end of the table. "What have you done to him?" I gasped.