Skeletons in the Closet (Phantom Rising Book 2) by Davyne DeSye

Author:Davyne DeSye [DeSye, Davyne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Illuminus Publishing, LLC
Published: 2016-12-15T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

CHRISTINE TAKES CONTROL

Christine had become accustomed to the dull routine of her existence. She never left the lavish room in which she was a prisoner, she never saw true daylight. She was dressed in comfortable clothing, and she was fed thrice daily. She felt certain that if she made any reasonable request – more food, reading material, anything – her request would be granted, although thus far, she had refused to speak to anyone outside the few utterances in French the Sultana demanded on her infrequent and often painful visits. Female servants assisted her in bathing (which often included another inexplicable coloring of her hair) and dressing – the only occasions on which the male guards did not enter the room, although even then, Christine was certain that the guards would appear on the instant if the servant girls called out in alarm.

Yet despite relative comfort, Christine wallowed in despondency, or, when the Sultana visited her, in fear.

Erik. Erik was constantly on her mind. Fear for him, hopeful thoughts of being rescued by him, and then again, more fear for him. When she did not think of Erik, she worried about Petter, alone in the world, lost in the inexperience of youth. She spent much of her time lying among the bed linens that were changed and laundered almost daily, or among the cushions surrounding the low table at the far side of the room. She felt steeped in hopelessness.

Today, she sat on the edge of her bed – she now thought of it as her bed rather than the bed – eyes turned toward an indiscriminate spot on the floor. She had eaten and bathed, and felt no energy for any further movement. When the door opened, she did not look to see who had entered, assuming perhaps that more time had passed than she measured, and that her luncheon was being delivered.

She was shocked from her trance by a sharp slap to her face, delivered with enough force to knock her from her seat on the edge of the bed to the floor. She brought both hands to her stinging cheek, and did not need the sight of ring-festooned toes that swam in her vision to know it was the Sultana who confronted her now. Not taking her hands from her face, she crawled backward on her knees away from the beautiful, perfumed feet. She did not raise her eyes.

“Stand and face me, worm,” came the Sultana’s harsh words.

I do not wish to, Mistress Snake.

She pulled herself up to stand before the woman. Still she did not raise her eyes to the woman’s face.

Another vicious slap threw Christine arching back onto the bed, feet swinging from the floor. Christine cried out, and again brought her hands to her cheek, warm tears escaping around eyelids squeezed shut. She took two deep sobbing breaths before gaining the courage to open her eyes. The Sultana stood before her at the side of the bed, glaring with an anger somehow less frightening than the wicked, sweet smile that usually adorned her face.

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