Chapter 7

Alice

Where am I?

Am I dead?

I opened my eyes slowly. My head still throbbed violently. What had happened? Instinctively, I reached up to touch my forehead. The fever that had burned there was gone now, leaving only a cool, damp chill.

Wait.

Where were my clothes? I lifted the blanket and glanced down—I was completely naked, without a stitch covering me.

Just like every night after I finished serving him. Except this time was different: my body no longer felt sticky and soiled. My skin was smooth, as though someone had washed me clean.

As my mind grew clearer, the memories before I collapsed came flooding back. A beat too late, I nearly screamed.

God, what had I done?

I had fainted while Augus was demanding I attend to him? Right in front of him?

Then surely I must be dead. Was this heaven? No wonder my body was so clean—it even carried a faint fragrance.

But then…

I looked around. The lavish chairs, the murals painted across the walls, the golden candlestick resting on the table. Everything was so achingly familiar.

Instinctively, I turned toward the window—and yes, that tall, powerful silhouette was standing there. His upper body was bare, sculpted like a statue.

Augus. It finally registered, and I let out a shaky breath of relief. I was still alive. I was lying in Augus's bed.

But how could this be? I distinctly remembered that I had been dying. Before I lost consciousness, the pain had been unbearable. One moment it felt as though I were submerged in freezing water—a sensation almost impossible to describe.

I remembered a winter when I had gone with the old servant to bathe at the river. The cold had been so bitter that the surface had frozen solid, and we'd had to hack a hole through the ice with an iron hoe just to draw water. Then I lost my footing and plunged straight in. The icy water had seeped through my body and into my very bones. It wasn't cold—it was pain.

That was exactly how I'd felt last night before I collapsed, only a hundred times worse than falling into that river.

By all rights, I should have died. And even if I'd lived, I should have woken wrapped in soaked, coarse burlap, lying on the cold stone floor. Yet here I was, buried in a cotton-stuffed quilt, resting on soft silk sheets, my body scrubbed spotless.

Clearly, someone had done all this for me.

But who?

And then a startling suspicion took shape in my mind.

"So you're finally awake."

Augus's voice broke the silence just then. I looked at him.

Was I imagining it? His gaze didn't seem as cold as it usually was. My heart gave a sudden, forceful thud.

Cruel as Augus was, he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. I doubted any woman could hold his eyes without losing her composure.

Myself included.

"Thank you for saving me, Your Grace."

I spoke without thinking. It was heartfelt gratitude—I couldn't imagine anyone but him having done such things for me.

But the moment the words left my mouth, Augus suddenly laughed.

It was as if he'd heard something wildly amusing, his smile brimming with contempt and mockery. That smile was more terrifying than a wolf lurking in the dark.

I sat there on the bed, wrapped in the quilt, yet chilled to the core.

No—I had made a mistake. I should have slapped myself hard the instant I woke.

How could I ever have thought Augus would wash my body himself? Would a noble duke bathe a lowly slave with his own hands?

My mind must have been addled by the fever.

Sure enough, Augus fixed me with an icy stare, regarding me as though I were the most pitiful creature in the world. He let out a cold sneer, disdain plain on his face, and countered:

"You think I saved you?"

"Don't flatter yourself. You're nothing but a slave who exists to satisfy my needs. Why on earth would I save you?"

Though we were the only two people in the room, those words froze me where I sat.

Right. Why would he.

He wasn't wrong. Our stations in life were worlds apart. I had no value whatsoever. Even if I died, to him it would mean nothing more than losing a bedmate.

I had long grown used to this kind of talk, yet hearing it again and again was like a wound being sliced open anew each time. Every time brought fresh pain.

In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a crack in the floor and disappear.

God, forgive me—what presumptuous nonsense had I just spoken?

I lowered my head, not daring to look at Augus again. I was afraid to hear another one of his taunts. His words were somehow even more dreadful than that bucket of cold water yesterday.

"Now, get out of my room."

Augus spoke again, and this time his tone was markedly colder than before.

He was angry—that much I could tell, knowing him as I did. But surely not over a single question?

I didn't understand. All I knew was that the duke wanted nothing to do with me. He despised me, and the only thing I could do was shrink my presence down to nothing.

I wanted to put on my coarse clothes, now wadded into a crumpled heap on the floor. But Augus clearly wasn't going to give me the chance. I could only snatch up a single garment, cover myself with it, and flee the room as fast as I possibly could.