Chapter 2

The days in the woodshed crawled by in a haze of hunger and misery.

Once a day, an old servant would bring a single glass of water. Not so much as a crust of bread passed my lips. After two days, the world spun every time I tried to stand.

On the morning of the third day, Ruth appeared.

She held a bowl of gruel, with a saccharine smile stretched across her face.

"Evelyn, you must be famished. Have some gruel."

She offered the bowl through the bars. It was a watery gruel with a few stray oat husks floating on the surface. I didn't move. I leaned against a pile of damp firewood and closed my eyes.

"Save your false kindness. I don't want it."

She sighed, placing the bowl on the dusty floor and crouching down.

"Evelyn, I know this is unfair. But this is a decree from the Queen Dowager herself. Our house cannot defy her.

"If you do not take your sister's place, the entire family will be condemned. Not just you. Your father, me, and Charlotte will die."

"So I should die instead?" I snapped.

I opened my eyes and met her gaze.

"The lives of this family are precious, but mine is worthless?"

"It is not worthless, my dear. It is that you are the stronger one. The more sensible one."

She reached out as if to stroke my hair, but I flinched away. Her hand froze and then retreated.

She persuaded, "Your own mother adored you. She would want you to protect this family, wouldn't she? She would be so proud to know you saved us all.

"And if you take Charlotte's place, your father has sworn to give you a magnificent funeral. He will even move your mother's portrait from the dusty back hall into the main gallery, so you both may finally have the honor you deserve."

The mention of my mother was a knife in my heart.

My mind went back to my mother as she lay dying. She held my hand, speaking in broken sentences.

"Evelyn, my love, you must look after yourself. Don't fight with your father or your sister..."

At the time, I thought she was just worried I would be lonely.

I see now she knew that with her gone, I would have no one left to protect me.

"My mother would not want me to walk into a fire," I choked out, biting back a sob. "Don't you dare use her as an excuse."

I lifted my head and shot her an icy glare, my voice turning to ice.

"Her portrait in the main gallery? Do you take me for a fool, Ruth? When my mother was alive, you were nothing but a chambermaid who wasn't fit to pour her water. And now you dare to use her memory to bargain for my life?"

The smile vanished from her face.

She yelled, "How dare you speak to me that way? I am the Duchess of this house! I am your mother now!

"Do you really think you can escape this? The sacrifice is in two days. Willing or not, you will be there. Agree now, and we can make it painless. Defy us, and your last hours will be filled with regret."

She stood, turned on her heel, and stalked away, leaving the gruel in the dust.

I was alone again, hunger gnawing at my stomach, but hatred burned hotter.

I hated my father for his blatant favoritism, I despised Ruth for her poison, and I loathed Charlotte for her two-faced lies.

That night, I heard hushed voices outside. It was two of the stable boys.

"Pity about Ms. Evelyn Harper, isn't it? She's the trueborn daughter, yet she's the one who must join the dead."

"Pity doesn't do much good. Her mother's gone, and the Duke never cared for her. Besides, it's the Queen Dowager's order. Who'd dare refuse?"

"True. But I heard Prince Alistair was a cruel man. He had a lot of blood on his hands. If she really is sacrificed for him, she might find no peace even in death."

"Hush! The Duke will have your head if he hears you."

Their voices faded. I leaned back against the firewood, tears streaming down my face. Even the servants pitied me, yet my own family wanted me dead.

I remembered the handkerchief my mother had embroidered for me. It was still tucked into my dress. I pulled it out. The fabric was worn, the flowers faded, but as I clutched it, a tiny spark of strength returned.

I could not die like this. I must live. Even if they dragged me to the pyre, I would fight with everything I had.