Chapter 3

"Alright, let's go," Jonathan replied, but he insisted on taking my arm. I told him I could manage, but he wouldn't take no for an answer.

He pointed out that I'd just taken a hard spill in the dirt and it was safer if he propped me up. I didn't really have a choice, so I just let him.

Right as Jonathan and I were clearing the field, the High Lord's men finally finished their sweep of the village.

"My Lord, there's no sign of Lady Elara here," Kaelen reported after conferring with the other guards.

The High Lord didn't say a word. He just flung his cloak over his shoulder and turned to leave. Even from the back, I could tell he was seething.

It made sense—his betrothed had vanished into thin air. No wonder he was on edge.

But honestly, I couldn't imagine Serena ever showing up in a godforsaken hole like this village. She was high aristocracy, the most pampered woman in the realm, and this place was nothing but dust and debt.

I was lying on the cot in my tenant shack, but when I drifted awake, I heard the heavy clatter of carriage wheels on the road.

I jolted upright, only to realize my shack was gone—and sitting right across from me was the High Lord, James Hawthorne.

He was staring directly at me, his gaze unblinking.

Without a second thought, I threw my hand up to shield my scarred face.

His voice was steady, vibrating with absolute certainty. "Susanna."

He knew exactly who I was. There was no point in playing the fool anymore. I used to lie awake imagining that if he ever hunted me down, I'd lose my mind, screaming and clawing until they dragged me away.

But now that the moment had arrived, I felt a strange, hollow calmness settle over me.

After all, a woman in my position had no leverage to make a scene with a man like him.

I kept my head down, but even that felt like I was exposing too much. I gripped the edge of the plush silk cushion on his bench, trying to curl into myself, desperate to vanish from his sight.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Back to the High City." he answered quietly.

It was the answer I'd expected. And I knew he already anticipated the plea that was coming next.

"Do I have to go back?" I whispered.

"No." he shot back, not a hint of hesitation in his voice.

I shouldn't have even bothered to ask. The High Lord lived in a world where his word was law, and he had never once spared a thought for what I actually wanted.

Back at the manor, his demands had been absolute, his need for me in his chambers a daily requirement that ignored every ounce of my suffering.

When I had pleaded with him, shivering with a fever after Elara shoved me into the frozen lake, he had ignored my tremors and summoned me to his bed anyway.

When I told him the brand on my shoulder was raw and screaming with pain, he had shown no mercy, demanding my presence just the same.

Even when I confessed that my knees were bruised from hours of forced penance, that my womb was still shattered from that arrow, and my hands were still mangled, he remained indifferent.

To him, I was nothing more than a plaything, a vessel for his moods—a puppet designed to feel nothing and endure everything he threw at me.

I finally broke, a flood of tears soaking into the expensive silk of his carriage cushions. I didn't care about the mess or his reaction; the weight of my life was simply too much to carry in silence.

I wondered why my life had been cursed with such bitterness, why every turn led back to this same misery.

James sat there in stony silence, watching me sob until my eyes were dry and my throat was raw. Only then did the reality of my situation finally start to click into place.

I was trapped in a moving carriage, and I realized with a sinking heart that he likely hadn't said a word to the elder or Jonathan.

He was the High Lord; the idea of him explaining his actions to a couple of dirt-farmers was laughable.

They would be worried sick when they found my shack empty, wondering where I'd vanished to.

I had to find a way back to that village.

I finally quit trying to shield my face; James had already seen the worst of me. I slid off the plush seat and knelt on the floorboards of the carriage before him.

"My Lord, I'll return to the High City with you. I only ask that you let me say my farewells to the parish elder first," I pleaded.

James remained a statue, offering nothing but silence. A cold dread settled in my chest as I realized he might actually refuse the one thing I was begging for.

I loathed him in that moment.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally looked up from the leather-bound ledger he'd been studying and fixed his eyes on me.

I snapped my spine straight, meeting his gaze with desperation.

"My Lord, please. Just this one thing!" I begged.

Under the weight of my stare, he finally relented, his voice flat and commanding. "Fine. You may speak to the elder. But you aren't to say a word of goodbye to Jonathan."

The unfairness of it made my blood boil. Jonathan had been the only person to treat me like a human being for two years, and I was being ordered to discard him like trash.

Damn it!

Damn James.

I wanted to scream at him to go to hell, go find his precious Serena and rot for all I cared.