Chapter 5
"It's been brought to my attention," Victor said, setting down his wine cup, "the princess's jeweled bracelet went missing yesterday. And you were the last person to enter her room."
Elena's mind buzzed.
She realized Yvonne had set her up.
"I swear I didn't steal it," Elena said, bowing her head until her forehead touched the cold floor. "Please, Your Highness, see the truth."
"See the truth?" Victor sneered. "Search her."
Two matrons immediately stepped forward and roughly yanked open the front of Elena's dress. She instinctively shielded her chest, but one of the matrons slapped her hard across the face. "You bitch! How dare you resist?"
The sharp sound of the slap made the whole room fall silent.
Victor's hand clenched into a fist inside his sleeve, his nails digging into his palm, but he didn't seem to feel the pain.
He watched as Elena was pinned to the ground, her dress pulled open, exposing the small red mole on her collarbone.
His mind went blank with shock.
That night at the burial ground, burning with fever and half out of his mind, he'd found himself kissing a tiny mole. The position, the size, and the color were exactly the same as the one he was seeing now.
"Stop!"
Victor sprang to his feet, barking out a sharp command.
But it was already too late.
The matron searched Elena and pulled out a white bracelet hidden in her clothes.
"Your Highness, we've found it!" the matron shouted, holding the bracelet up. "This shameless servant really did steal the princess consort's things!"
Yvonne covered her mouth, feigning shock. "Oh no, that's the keepsake my mother left me. Elena, how could you..."
Elena lay on the floor, her dress torn and hair a mess, looking like a rag doll tossed aside.
She didn't try to defend herself because she knew it was pointless to argue.
Victor looked from the bracelet to Elena. The sharp pain in his chest turned into something dull and agonizing, like a blunt knife ripping through his flesh.
"Anything to say?" he asked, his voice cold as ice.
Elena lifted her head slowly, her eyes hollow and empty, like a dead pool.
"I have nothing to say," she replied. "Punish me as you wish, Your Highness."
Victor clenched his fists so hard his knuckles popped audibly.
He wanted to say he trusted her, that the bracelet wasn't hers, that he'd seen it before, and it was something Yvonne had given to a servant as a reward.
But when he finally spoke, what came out was:
"Take her away and give her thirty lashes. If she does this again, throw her out of the estate."
As Elena was dragged away, she As Elena was dragged away, she didn't cry, scream, or beg for mercy.
She only cast Victor one last glance.
That glance stabbed into his heart like a knife.
He knew the bracelet wasn't hers. He knew Yvonne was pretending, and this was all a trap.
But he couldn't call it out because Yvonne was his "savior," because the Smith family still had deep roots in the court, and because he still hadn't uncovered the truth behind the burial ground incident.
He could only watch as she was dragged away, beaten, taking the fall, bleeding, humiliated, over and over, all for the woman he loved.
But what he didn't know was that as Elena was hauled across the threshold, the blood pendant hidden in her sleeve suddenly burned against her skin.
It was as if it sensed something like a heart stabbed by betrayal, crying out soundlessly.
After thirty lashes, her back was completely torn and raw.
She was tossed back into the woodshed like a bag of waste. Blood soaked through her blue clothes, sticking to the wooden planks. Every breath felt like her skin was being torn apart. But she didn't pass out. Instead, she was eerily clear-headed.
So clear-headed that she could hear the sound of her own blood dripping onto the hay.
One drop, two drops, three drops.
It was like the slow drip of time, counting down how much longer her miserable existence could last.
The woodshed door creaked open, and Yvonne's personal matron stepped inside, carrying a bowl of so-called "wound medicine."
"The princess consort is so kind. She's gifted you this," the matron sneered, grabbing Elena's chin and forcing the scalding liquid down her throat.
Elena choked and coughed, the medicine mixed with blood spilling from her lips. She recognized the taste. It was safflower, meant to promote blood flow and dissolve clots, but it also made her bleed faster. They were trying to bleed her dry.
"The princess consort said," the matron mocked, "your worthless life has to be slowly worn down. Once enough of you has been used as the medicinal ingredient, you’ll be set free."
Elena stayed silent, curling up tightly and shielding her wrist.
There, the blood pendant was tightly wrapped with a strip of cloth and pressed against her skin over her pulse. It felt hot, like burning coals.
Three days later, word spread through the estate that Yvonne's illness had taken a turn for the better. Victor was in high spirits and gave out rewards to all the staff.
As for Elena, she was "graciously allowed" to move back from the woodshed to the medicine room, so she could keep supplying her blood.
Her back was still raw and unhealed, yet she still had to give blood every day. Yvonne's personal maid held the bowl, watching as Elena sliced open her wrist, and said with a smile, "Elena, you're truly a blessing for our princess consort. Your blood is even more potent than any medicinal herb."
Elena lowered her gaze, watching the thin line of blood flow into the white porcelain bowl.
She remembered her father's words: "A healer's heart is compassionate. Blood can save lives, but it can also take your own."
She finally understood.
Victor came to see her once.
He stood outside the medicine room, separated by a curtain, watching as Elena knelt on the floor, masking her trembling hands by grinding herbs. She looked even thinner now, her clothes hanging loosely on her, making her look like a walking skeleton.
"How much blood does she give every day?" he asked the head matron.
"Five measures, Your Highness."
Victor's brows drew together. "Didn't you say it was three measures before?"