“Once it’s done, we can go home. We’ll get married, and you won’t have to be restrained like this anymore. You can move freely and use your magic.”
I decided not to mention that if we did that, the first thing I’d do with my magic was make sure I was a widow.
“Things’ll be good then,” he said, moving his body over mine. “I promise. I love you so much….”
I didn’t need any nightshade to make me feel numb after Leith left. He’d held good to his word to have sex twice, and I was slowly reaching that point where it just didn’t matter. I couldn’t feel anything. My body wasn’t even attached to my consciousness. It was like my mind existed elsewhere, dreaming or, occasionally, plotting my revenge through the drugged haze. I thought of anything I could-anything that wasn’t the violation of my body- while he was on top of me. Usually, I imagined it was happening to someone else and not me. That made it easier to bear until after he left, when the ache inside reminded me that it had indeed been me.
Cariena and another girl arrived shortly thereafter to give me my next dose of nightshade. I couldn’t recall the other girl’s name, though not for lack of caring. It was just the way my brain worked lately. She was extremely pretty, with curly black hair and sky blue eyes that reminded me of Ysabel’s.
Abigail occasionally let the girls administer the nightshade, confident enough in her hold over them to do it. And her confidence was well-founded. I’d tried before to talk them out of it, but their fear of her was too great. This time, I merely attempted a delay.
“Wait,” I said, as they leaned over. It looked like the black-haired girl was going to hold me down while Cariena poured. “Let me just talk to you for a minute.”
Cariena immediately grew nervous. “Your majesty, we can’t…” Sometimes I found her use of my title endearing. Other times, I thought it was a joke, considering my present situation.
“Just a minute. That’s all.”
“Let her,” said the other girl.
I flashed her a grateful smile. “What’s your name again?”
“Markelle.”
It sounded familiar. Markelle. I would remember this time. I wanted to treat her as a person, not an object. “Look, I just want to know about the nightshade. How often do I take it?”
“Every six hours,” said Cariena, still clearly worried about this delay.
“That’s twice as often as they usually give it,” added Markelle. And with those words, I saw the slightest flash of bitterness in her eyes, the first I’d seen in any girl. I wondered then if she was one of the other “difficult” ones that Cariena had described, one who had to be drugged as well and eventually subdued.
“Is there any way…is there any way you guys could, like, dilute it?” There it was, the big question.
Cariena gasped, but Markelle readily answered. “No, your majesty. Abigail makes it herself and makes sure we come straight here. There’s no opportunity.”
“Where? Where does she make it?”
“In the kitchen. She has the ingredients set aside and makes a fresh batch every day.”
“What else is in it? Aside from the nightshade?”
Markelle looked at Cariena expectantly. Cariena gulped, and it took her several seconds to answer. She rattled off a list of herbs, some of which I knew, some of which were unfamiliar. They probably had different names in the Otherworld.
“Do Abigail and Art ever eat here? Like, do they cook? Is their kitchen stocked?”
Markelle nodded. “But we never prepare the food-it’s always them.” She was quick-minded; she’d probably thought I was going to suggest poison. Not a bad idea, really.
“Are there any ingredients in the nightshade mix that look like other herbs they might have in the kitchen?”
Both girls looked confused. “I’ve seen no other herbs,” said Cariena.
“You have freedom of the house.” I knew most girls stayed in the basement, though. “The next time they’re not around, go through the cupboards. If their kitchen’s stocked, they must have a spice rack.”
A knock sounded at the door. “What’s taking so long?” Abigail called.
“See if any spices look like the ones in the potion,” I hissed as the doorknob turned. “Swap them.”
Abigail entered just as Markelle held me down. Cariena poured while Abigail watched with a critical eye. “You’re too slow,” snapped the shaman. “She needs this regularly.”
Both girls groveled, bowing their heads deferentially. “Forgive us,” said Cariena. I knew her contrition wasn’t faked. “It won’t happen again.”
Abigail rolled her eyes. “Stupid girls. I’ll have to do it myself next time.”
The instant effect that damned potion always had began to run through me. The familiar blackness swept over me, and I slept.
Another day went by. Leith “visited,” and the girls apparently hadn’t taken my advice on the nightshade because my six-hour cycle repeated as usual. Abigail usually came with one of the girls now, apparently not trusting them anymore. Art came once as well, and a few caustic comments from me earned me another cuffed hand.
I began to understand the roles they played. Both participated in the brokering and sale of the girls. Art helped Leith’s men catch the girls and offered his home-the one I’d once thought too large for a guy like him-as their prison. Abigail seemed to handle the day-to-day affairs of taking care of the girls, and it occurred to me one day that those handcuffs at her place hadn’t been part of anything kinky. They’d been part of her arsenal for this hellhole, and I suspected the trip to see her “sister” that day had probably been to deliver some poor girl to her new owner. I cringed at what that car ride must have been like. For a gentry to be surrounded in all that metal and technology…it would have been awful for her.
Leith was getting dressed after one of his conjugal visits one day. I was close enough to my next nightshade dose that I was able to shoot him looks of contempt-ones he didn’t notice. He seemed particularly excited.
“It’s been a week,” he said. “One more week, and Abigail says we can test to see if you’re carrying my child.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I can feel it, Eugenie. I know we’ve done it.”
There was no “we” in sexual assault, but again, I found it easier just to remain silent lately. It usually made him leave that much more quickly, which then left me alone with my thoughts and my aching body. Sometimes after he visited, my body would feel so violated and dirty that I’d hate it. Then I’d remember that none of this was the fault of my body or me. It was Leith.
Shortly after his departure that day, Abigail and Markelle came in with my next dose. I’d heard talk that Markelle had a buyer. Her days really were numbered now, and I felt bad for her, this girl who’d once fought back against her captors. I was so used to the nightshade by now that they almost didn’t need to hold me down anymore to force me to take it. It was a bit disheartening that I felt that way now and wondered if I too was on my way to that sad resignation everyone else had.
The two of them left, and I lay there, waiting for the unconsciousness that always followed. It usually lasted an hour or so before I came to and lived in my fuzzy state until the next dose. Sure enough, I started to feel a little tingly…but no sleepiness followed. I lay there, scarcely daring to breathe. After falling drearily into a strict regimen, any sort of change was a shock to my system. I waited and waited. No unconsciousness.
My blurry, addled state didn’t disappear, but it didn’t get any worse than when I was due for my next dose. Holy shit. One of them had done it. One of those girls had swapped out the nightshade tincture’s ingredients. Who? I would have wagered money on Markelle over timid Cariena. Markelle occasionally had that rebellious spark in her eyes, despite her docile behavior, and her impending sale would be serious motivation. She was from the Thorn Land too-my subject. Sometimes I got the feeling that she truly believed her queen could get her out of this.
But did I? I still didn’t know if I could get myself out of this. My weapons were long since gone, and I didn’t think I had the strength to launch a physical attack on Abigail or Art. My door was kept locked, so there was no prowling for me. Gingerly, I sat up. The world shifted as usual, but again, not like it normally would have post- potion.
What to do with this freedom? I had no guarantees my next dose wouldn’t be the usual stuff. That gave me six hours, and the further that time progressed, the better shape I’d be in. I would have given anything for a clock or even a glimpse of the sun. I needed to track the time, waiting until the last possible moment for my strength to be at its peak. It looked like I’d have to wing it and hope my guess was right.
For a moment, panic washed over me. There seemed no obvious options, and I didn’t know how fast the
