It was still dark outside as the carriage rolled up to the docks. Time had lost its meaning in the dark, and I couldn’t be sure if it was very late into the night, or early into the morning. I found that I no longer cared. They’d left me in the study until it was time to depart. His Grace hadn’t bothered to say farewell, nor had he wasted his energy on any parting commands. It was just as well since it was easy to see that I had no energy left to fight with.

Outside the window, fog had moved into the bay, gathering along the ground to cover the cobblestones and wooden planks. I couldn’t see where the dock ended or the sea began. The dampness chilled my skin as the door of the carriage opened, and I was ushered out. I stepped down to the ground, careful not to bump my broken hand against the frame.

Numbly I watched our driver and another man, who I assumed would be my chaperone, unload the trunks from the back of the carriage. I didn’t recognize him, didn’t know him, but from his voice, I suspected he’d been the one who’d stopped me from puncturing my eye. The man my father had called Leander. I couldn’t make out anything about him in the streetlights, outside of his build. He was over a head taller than myself, and maybe on the slimmer side.

Out of the five trunks they placed on the ground, three of them contained all that remained of my life in Astalia. Their contents would hold no value to anyone other than me. Undergarments, dresses, and other clothes. Maybe a hand mirror and hairbrush. If I was lucky, it would also contain a few mementos that had decorated my dresser. I could picture the careless speed that the servants likely used to shove what they could into the trunks. I couldn’t blame them, considering what little notice they had.

With a sigh, I dared not hope that anything of value made it into the trunks.

“Thank you for accommodating us.” The man, Leander, spoke.

My gaze drifted upwards to where my chaperone stood with the ship’s captain.

“It’s hard to resist a good coin,” The captain’s voice was gruff in a pleasant way. He continued, “but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t in part due to your silver-tongued charm.” He craned around Leander to look at me. “We’ll need to move quickly. The last thing my boys need is another superstition to dwell on.”

Our driver clapped a hand on Leander’s shoulder and mumbled, “Safe travels to you.”

“And to you.” Leander replied as he smiled with a grin that glistened in the dark.

To me, our driver said nothing. Like many others who had come to work at Hillcrest, I’d never learned his name. He wouldn’t miss my presence, and I didn’t blame him.

A throat cleared. “Are you ready?”

I blinked back new, unshed tears. “Ready?” I questioned dumbly.

Leander held a lantern, and gestured to the large merchant ship behind me. “To board.”

“But... What about the trunks?”

He shook his head. “The crew will bring them up.”

“I can’t.” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut.

I waited for him to grab my arm and drag me up the gangplank, but instead of a punishing grip, I felt a gentle hand on my lower back as he turned me towards the ship.

“If you refuse to move, then you know I must use force.” His voice was smooth as honey. It was so at odds with the threat of his words. “But, if you would save us both from the experience, I would prefer to escort you up properly. With your dignity intact.”

I swallowed, knowing that I had no way to refuse his request without making a fool of myself, or injuring myself further. I would go willingly, even if I hated every step that led me closer to Count Lovick.

I nodded mutely in surrender.

With his arm at the small of my back, he led us up the gangplank and towards the back of the ship, through a door, and down a narrow set of stairs. While there were a few sailors moving across the deck, making preparations for our departure, we’d clearly arrived before the majority of the crew.

He led me back towards the stern of the ship, passing a galley, and a room full of hammocks strung from the rafters. We came across another set of stairs, and went down again. We passed shelves with crates of goods secured to rungs in the floor, and doors that led to provision stores and supplies for the sailors.

Eventually we made our way down a final set of stairs so narrow that they were really more of a ladder rung than steps. I struggled to climb down with one hand hanging uselessly at my side, but eventually reached the bottom. Again we made our way back to the other end of the ship. As we walked, I noticed a door all the way at the end. It stood slightly ajar and I felt my body tense as we neared it.

Leander stepped around me to push the door open, ushering me inside. The room was small, maybe nine feet from the door to the back wall of the ship, with a tiny window looking out into the darkness. It was almost twice as wide as it was long. When my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could see where a blanket and pillow had been haphazardly tossed onto the floor.

Gritting my teeth, I stepped inside and shivered at the breeze that had forced its way through the broken glass. I turned slowly, taking in my dim surroundings. It was depressingly bare and devoid of niceties. I assumed that my chaperone was the one who arranged for these accommodations, if you could even count them as such, yet even he seemed offended by their condition.

“Are you not impressed by my cell?” I asked, the truth of it leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Your father specifically requested bars.” He replied, distracted.

I clenched a fist, cutting into the palm with my nails. It was barely a distraction from the throbbing of my other hand. I continued to ignore it as best I could.

“I suppose they didn’t have the time to fulfill all of his requests.” I spat.

“It was meant to be a joke...” He shook his head, thinking better of whatever he was about to say next. “It was in very poor taste. Please accept my apologies.”

“I have little doubt that he actually did request bars.” I replied quietly.

I turned to look at the four walls that would contain the following weeks of my existence. From the circular water stains on the ground that suggested barrels of some kind, it was clear this room was normally used for storage. There wasn’t a bed. Nowhere to hang my garments. No table or chairs, nothing aside from the bedding on the ground. The only saving grace was a small port window, although the glass was slightly broken.

As if reading my thoughts, the man sighed heavily. “I’ll have your belongings brought to you, and see what else I may be able to hunt down before we leave.”

I nodded and sat down, pulling the ratty pillow to my chest.

“What’s your name?” I finally asked.

“Leander.” He replied, confirming my earlier suspicions.

The man who’d stopped my father.

I was grateful for his intervention in the study, and I wanted to thank him for saving me, but I couldn’t. Why was Leander at the manor, if not to fulfill my father’s orders? He had secured this voyage, and he was going to bring me to Count Lovick in my father’s place.

“Leander,” I repeated, testing his name on my tongue before closing my eyes. “You can go now.”

“As you wish, mistress.” His footsteps moved across the room and to the door. He paused at the threshold. “In case it needs to be said, only the captain’s most trusted men know that you’re on board. This isn't a ship meant for passengers, and these men aren’t used to traveling with a woman. Do us both a favor and don’t draw any attention to yourself. I promise you that it won’t end well.”

I nodded numbly as he shut the door. A firm click in the lock signaled that I was indeed a prisoner. I tipped to the side and curled into a ball, clutching the dirty pillow to my chest, and burying my face against it. Finally alone, I let out a strangled sob.

I woke up on the floor with a renewed throb in my hand and stiffness in my bones. The ship rocked as I stumbled to my feet to peer out at the waves through the small window. Hours must have passed. The sun was high overhead and there was no land in sight. I breathed in the sea spray before pulling away from the broken glass, but my foot knocked into something, and I nearly tripped.

My trunk.

Leander must have returned while I was sleeping. I looked around the room again, wondering what other details I might have missed. The room was small, that much I knew, but all the internal walls had been poorly built, with a few gaps where the wood met. In the back corner, there was a bigger hole with tiny pellet sized droppings scattered in front of it.

Rats.

I shivered. The idea of a rat being able to come into my room while I was sleeping made my skin crawl. I crouched down to inspect the hole, and saw a room full of crates and barrels on the other side. The hole itself was large enough for a cat to squeeze through. Walking back to the trunk, I gripped the handle and dragged it with my good hand over to the corner, pushing it snuggly against the hole. It would have to do.

“I wonder what they deemed worth packing.” I mused aloud, lifting the lid to sift through the contents.

It was mainly simple clothing items such as trousers, blouses, undergarments, and stockings, but at the bottom was a single, folded handkerchief. My breath hitched in surprise as I reached out tenderly towards it. In the corner was an embroidered bee sitting on a leaf.

Alexia...

I remembered the day she gifted it to me. It was at the first Autumn Equinox we’d celebrated together, and she’d wrapped it up with a red ribbon. I buried my face into the tiny square of fabric. I'd always been too afraid to use it for fear of ruining the stitches that had been done with painstaking precision.

My mind drifted to thoughts of Alexia. I hadn’t had the time to miss her. I’d been so consumed by my own fate and pain that there hadn’t been any room in my mind to think of her. With my sentence already declared, I found myself hoping that her own arrangement was a happier one.

When I woke hours later, the sun was setting and my room was growing dark. In front of the door I found a new blanket folded neatly on the ground. The fabric was made of rough wool, and had seen use before. Unlike the blanket that had been carelessly tossed onto the floor before my arrival, this one was thick and warm, and would do more against the sea breeze than its predecessor. Next to it, a chamber pot had been placed as well.

In addition to these items, I also found a tray of food. A hard tack biscuit, and a bowl of lukewarm stew that appeared as if it had been sitting there for a while. My stomach gurgled hungrily as I lurched forward and snatched up the biscuit. It was hard and flavorless, but it was filling and I had no room to be picky. The soup was mostly potato with some carrots, but it had a few chunks of meat floating around. I ate both greedily, and tried to ignore how the motion of the ship began to turn my stomach.

Pushing away the now empty tray, I stood up and dared to check the lock. Barely placing my hand on the door, it swung open and I nearly stumbled out before catching myself. The hall was empty, aside from where Leander stood leaning against a beam maybe ten feet away.

His head turned at the sound, and for the first time I saw him in the light. My breath caught in my throat in surprise. I’d wrongfully assumed he was ugly, because ugly associations deserved ugliness, but I couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Leander was disturbingly beautiful.

His dark hair hung loosely around his shoulders, with the upper portion tied behind his head. A few strands hung across his face, but otherwise his mischievous, golden eyes were unobscured as they met mine. His face was like a painting, made of angled planes with soft edges that any artist could only hope to capture correctly. Light stubble had started to grow out along his chin.

Outside of his beauty, I was also surprised by his youth. I’d originally thought him to be in his late twenties, possibly thirties with the beginnings of gray around his temples, but Leander was only a few years my elder. This was not what I had expected. He looked less like a hired lackey, and more like a young lord in his own right.

Where did he come from? I thought, trying to piece together how this puzzle fit. How had I not heard of a Leander before? Was he someone my father was in business with in the isles, or the continent? With how finely he dressed, was he a lord or a well off merchant?

Leander cleared his throat loudly, and I realized I'd been caught openly staring.

“Thank you,” I said, struggling to come up with anything intelligent to say. There was no hiding my blatant ogling. “For the blanket, and the meal, and my trunk.”

He nodded before turning away to look up the stairs. It was a clear sign that he wasn’t in the mood to speak. I faltered, not knowing what else I should say. I’d been rude when I’d asked him to leave. Was this his way of getting back at me? No, that would be stupid, and I couldn’t forget that he was only here to make sure I didn’t escape.

So then, why was the door currently unlocked? He had no reason to remain in the belly of the ship if I was locked inside. Perhaps he’d been ordered to keep watch over me?

Awkwardly, I shut the door between us. I was probably putting too much thought into whatever his motives were. I cradled my broken hand, gritting my teeth at the discomfort. At least I could be somewhat content knowing that if Leander was out in the hall, then he probably wasn’t going to be enjoying this voyage either.