I must be allowed to walk about
freely in order to do so.”
He gave no answer but turned
and strode to the window, looking out on the day. Sunlight limned his bold
profile, casting a shadow across the side of his face exposed to her sight.
“If I agree to your ... proposal, do I have your word you will not attempt to
leave?”
She was taken aback at the
directness of his question, though she should not have been surprised. She was
unused to lying, and it did not set well with her, but he would not listen to
reason and would not believe that she truly couldn’t help him. If lying was
the only way out of her predicament, she would do it and pray for her sins once
she had escaped. “Yes,” she whispered.
He faced her, but with the
light behind him, she could not see his eyes or the expression on his face.
She could not see if he believed her sincerity or not, or if he turned scornful
eyes upon her. His stance remained wary as it was always, giving no indication
of his thoughts.
Finally, after a minute
passed, he said, “The meekness of your voice belies you, and you do not sound
so certain. Do you promise me you’ll not try to leave?”
“Yes,” she said with more
force. “I ... swear it.”
“Very well then. I give fair
warning: if you break my trust, prepare to suffer the consequences of your
actions.”
“I understand,” she said, not
believing for a moment that he would harm her. For all his bluster and rage,
she relied on her initial impression that his was a soul in conflict, not of
evil, and that he would not dare hurt her for fear of losing his one chance at
life and the redemption of his spirit. Regret stabbed her heart at her
deception, but she couldn’t dwell on that, not now.
Regardless, she didn’t plan
on getting caught. If what she suspected was true, that he controlled his land
and this castle, it followed that if she moved beyond the outer wall, she would
be free of his reach. She refused to believe differently, for that would only
lead to despair.
* * * *
Damian remained in the
library as she walked out. True to his word, the doors at the main entrance were
unlocked and opened easily for her. She still could not believe he trusted her
so implicitly, and so wandered around the drive in front of the house to test
her limits.
She walked along the smooth
drive, occasionally stooping to retrieve some bit of lawn while surreptitiously
looking back at the door. He wasn’t there, and the tower she had left him in
didn’t face the drive, so he could not see her from there if he still remained
inside.
She continued that way,
acting as if she was gathering small weeds, until the gentle swell of the land
obscured her view, and she could no longer see the door from the distance.
Certain it was now or never, Bianca gathered her long skirts in her hands and
dashed down the road. It seemed much longer traversing it on her own legs
rather than on Beast, but she ran through the stitch in her side until she
reached the webbed gates.
She had no plan for once
she’d made it out of the grounds but knew something would come to her. She
felt certain that her father would have sent men to take her by now. If she
could find them, they could see her safely home. If she remained inside,
they’d likely not make it through the gates with the debilitation of their own
fears. In any case, she couldn’t completely rely on them, which was why she
had dared Damian’s wrath in attempting her haphazard plan.
The gates seemed higher than
she remembered, more barbed, and the webbing thicker with barely a space to
reach her hand through. She most certainly couldn’t squeeze through the small
spaces between the wrought iron bars. Nor would the latch release and open the
gates--no matter how hard she fought to pull it open. She should have known
he’d not leave the most likely exit unlocked. He was no fool,
Learning to Kill: Stories