A Brazen Maiden (#1 BRAZEN series-part of the GOLDEN universe) ✔

•E I G H T•

♪ So I scream, scream cause it hurts
Your every word, cuts me inside and leaves me worse ♪
{Ashlee Simpson—Say Goodbye}

The fog continued to develop outside, its eerie yet captivating haze sending a grayish glow into Sir Knowles' office. Harriet felt as though she were trapped in a fiery box, powerless to move as smoke swooshed around her.

Or perhaps it was Sir Knowles' sentence that caused such constricting sensations in her lungs. The simple, quick, emotionless words he spat out without batting an eyelash. Without caring that mere weeks ago he'd promised her security.

"Your father wishes to pull you from the Academy."

No sooner had the comment poured from his mouth—like dumping sour wine to the ground—than Harriet had stopped breathing.

That explained the tightness in her rib-cage.

"He... what?"

Sir Knowles cleared his throat, one side of his face wrinkling in a semi-wince that was almost worse than a downright frown. "He wrote a few days ago, requesting to advise you to pack your things. Any day now, he will ride here and bring you home, where he... has need of you. That was how he phrased it. I only relay his information."

Forgetting every Etiquette lesson, every proper procedure, every manner taught to her throughout her life, Harriet's jaw dropped and she emitted a squeak. "No. Why?" She lept off the seat, lowering her hand, fists bunching at her sides. "Why, Sir Knowles, why? I... I was settling, despite the hiccup earlier with those two seeing you guide me up here, but... no, no, this cannot be happening." Her legs gave out and she toppled into the chair. "No." Her voice turned into a whisper, frightened and frail.

"I apologize, but... his note did not define the reason." Now both sides of his face crumpled as he drew a letter from a drawer and handed it to her. "And it is not my place to challenge him. He is your father, and he alone has the authority to decide your upbringing and education."

"But," her lower lip trembled so hard she was forced to press her fingers to it, "he cannot, he cannot. This... this school... Sir Knowles, I have endured years of torture here, under their bullying... and it was all for naught? I cried myself to sleep more than one night for... for him to... take me away?" Her cheeks heated and she hissed at the pain that caused. Rubbing her gloved palms against them, she yearned for an ice-cube, a frozen towelette, a crisp stream to plunge into.

"Harriet—"

"—do you understand the shame? It will look like I succumbed to their insults! Like I agree with them... that I do not... I do not..." Her throat became an arid desert and her brain seemed to empty as every ounce of moisture and liquid in her body sloshed to her eyes. "That I do not belong here."

"Miss Thatcher." Sir Knowles' tone mixed with pity and impatience as he flittered over to where she melted in her chair, eyes brimming with oceans of tears. "You do belong here, regardless of what these bullies you refer to might think." He sat on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms, as if unsure whether to reach out and pat her shoulder, or to yank her up and shake her. "And who is to say your father will not continue your education at home? He may have found a suitable tutor, or realized he did not wish to owe anyone for paying your tuition—"