Cold Hands, Warm Heart

EIGHTEEN

Something jostling my body was the first thing that I noticed when I opened my eyes—and the gag in my mouth. And then it was the pain. There was a massive pounding in my temple. I squeezed my eyes shut, taking deep breaths. Headaches like darkness. I imagine there is a bruise there from the hilt of the dagger.

Where am I? Definitely not in the palace anymore—that's for sure. Whatever is underneath me jabbed me, and the sweet scent told me what it was—hay. I'm in some sort of enclosed space. A box, I think. I tried to move, but the rough rope bit into my ankles and wrists. And there was barely enough room to bring my knees to my chest.

There was another dip, and I realized where I am. I'm in a carriage.

I wanted to reach up and try the box lid, but I'll wait until we stop. That way, there will be somewhere to run once out in the open.

I bid my time, thoughts running through my head. Has Gwyneira noticed me missing? Or Dr. Aitor? Are they searching for me? Or has Gwyneira's father covered up the whole thing?

Not long after I woke up for the second time, the carriage rolled to a stop. Before I could try the box lid, someone removed it. Arms reached in and yanked me out. The bright sunlight blinded me, and I hurriedly blinked the spots from my eyes. Where are we? Why are we stopping?

I looked around and realized something. I am not in a carriage—I'm in a wagon, surrounded by more bales of hay. The sun finally revealed what my captors looked like—a set of twins. They both had tan skin like me, but theirs had a leathery quality to it. They also had dark hair, matching mine. And their faces were identical. The only thing separating one from another was one had a scar on his cheek.

But there was a third man—a man that I knew. It was the doctor from the palace, Dr. Sot. Did he kidnap me to enact revenge for his trial? But how did he escape?

I glanced outside. The horses of the wagon bent over, drinking from a nearby creek. I guess that's why we stopped. Oak trees surrounded us, leaves rustling in the breeze. Does that mean we are in Sylvaine?

One of the twins set me down—rather forcefully—on a bale and pulled the gag from my mouth. He shoved an apple in my hand. "Eat," he ordered.

I nodded, not about to argue. Although challenging to eat through bound hands, I managed to do it. It was then that I felt pressure in my stomach. I stared at them, unsure how I am to ask for it.

"You need something?" the one who gave me the apple asked.

I nodded. "I, um, have to... relieve myself."

The man all-but pushed me off of the wagon, only cutting the binding on my feet. Well, that's helpful. I ducked behind a tree, doing my best to alleviate myself quickly while remaining hidden.

"Here," one of the twins said, throwing a ball of garments in my face. "Change."

Are these men incapable of talking in anything other than monosyllables?

I turned to hide behind my tree once more when he grabbed my arm. "No. Change out here."

I froze, my blood turning to ice. The man's intentions dawned on me—he wants to watch. I gulped, my eyes darting to the other men. Sure enough, they turned their gaze to me. I held out my shaking hands, and the man slashed the rope off my hands. For a split second, I thought about running, but, as if reading my mind, the twin moved closer to me. I could see the warning glint in his eye.

How could they ask such things of me? I am not some whore! I refuse to submit to them, to their twisted request. I refuse for them to treat me like this.

"No," I said, the opposition in me raising its head. "I will not."

A blow to my face sent me sprawling to the dirt. I groaned, but a kick to the ribs had me gasping for air. I couldn't breathe—the oxygen knocked from my lungs. The twin crouched beside me, taking some of my hair in his hand. I thought he would tug on it, but he brought it to his nose, inhaling. I couldn't tell if that was worse. He brought his lips to my ear, chills running down my back. "Change—before I make you."