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Chapter 6
CHRISTY
As soon as I think it’s safe to do so, I ignore Konrad’s demand for me to wash, step out of the bathroom and walk hesitantly into the bedroom. My bare feet pass from the cool stone of the bathroom onto warm floorboards that creak and groan as I walk into the centre of the room.
On the opposite side of the space, light spills in through a huge arched window, the glass divided up into small square panes by lead strips. Through it, I can see a vast forest, the dark, evergreen canopy a thick blanket that stretches on for miles and miles. Beyond the forest are mountains with snow capped peaks, the horizon pitted with heavy grey clouds. It might only be early autumn but I have a feeling that snow falls heavily and often here. Konrad was right, Even if I were able to escape the castle, and find my way through the forest, it would be all too easy to perish in the highlands beyond. My heart sinks. No wonder he felt so at ease leaving me here alone. The whole landscape is a prison.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I allow my gaze to drift around the room. The walls are painted cream and are framed with intricate gold cornicing, giving it an opulent feel. In the centre of the room is a large four-poster bed made of a light-coloured wood, maybe oak or maple. Dark gold, damask curtains hang from the posts and are pulled back to reveal a cream bedspread with matching pillows. A beige throw edged with golden thread is folded across the bottom of the bed, and there’s a plain, white cotton nightdress and matching robe lain across the top of it. I eye the clothing Konrad has left for me to wear, and snort. There isn’t a chance in hell I’m putting that on. I’d rather pay the price of disobedience than wear an outfit that makes me feel that vulnerable.
Striding past the offending items, I walk towards the vanity table situated to the left of the imposing bed. It has an ornate gold mirror sitting on top of it and an antique hairbrush and comb set resting on the surface. My fingers absently run over the handle of the brush, it looks and feels like elephant ivory, though my knowledge is limited to books, not actual expertise, so I can’t be certain. Regardless, my heart spikes with sadness imagining what such a creature must have suffered in order for man to benefit from something so beautiful.
Isn’t that always the way? Aren’t things of beauty always coveted? The ivory of an elephant, the pelt of a tiger, the fur of a fox. Some are more expensive than others, but all have value. Is it the rarity of such things that make them so alluring or the fact that they are simply beautiful? The skin on my back prickles with knowing, my thoughts close to a truth I’m yet to fully understand. What had Nala mentioned in the dungeons? Something about theNumbersbeingmore. She had referred to herself as staff, but the Numbers were something else. I know nothing of The Masks, what I do know is that they’ve kidnapped me. Isn’t it possible they’ve done the same to others? Are the Numbers victims of kidnap? How many are there? Is their purpose to entertain The Masks too? Are they their slaves, trapped in sexual servitude?
Drawing my hand back from the handle of the brush, I force those thoughts away and focus on the task at hand, too overwhelmed with the knowledge that I may be right. What I need right now is a pen and some paper. A quick glance around the room tells me neither item is obviously available, that doesn’t stop me from looking though. I open the drawer to the vanity unit, finding it empty, then move quickly on to the chest-of-drawers situated beneath the window. Each drawer is filled with the same white cotton dress that has been laid out on the bed, and nothing else. No underwear, no socks, no jumpers or t-shirts, jeans or trousers.
My heart sinks, and my throat squeezes but I refuse to let fear creep back in. Moving on to the bedside cabinet, I pull open the drawer and am relieved to find a leatherbound copy of the Bible, not because I’m religious and will find peace in the pages, but because I can use it to write upon.
“Now I just need a pen,” I mumble, snatching up the bible and pulling the drawer open further.
Nothing.
Feeling frustrated, I scan the room one last time then remember the jacket Konrad left behind in the bathroom. Half of me hopes to find my lock of hair and his knife tucked inside one of the pockets, but of course he’s taken those with him. I do, however, find a fountain pen.
I practically scream in joy. It feels like a victory, however small.
Clutching both items in my hand, I settle myself on the stool tucked beneath the vanity table and write down everything I observed on my walk to these quarters with Konrad and what I’ve gleaned from Nala and her Grandfather. A huge part of me feels guilt at defacing such a sacred item, but for the next five minutes, I do exactly that. I’m so engrossed in what I’m doing that I don’t notice someone entering the room until it’s too late.
“Why aren’t you changed?” a familiar voice asks, shocking me out of my concentration.
I jump, looking over my shoulder as Nala steps into the room from a door that seems to have magically appeared out of the stretch of wall opposite. She’s holding a tray, on it is a silver dome covering what I presume is a plate of food. Next to it is a pot of tea and a cup and saucer. Sliding the fountain pen between the pages of the Bible, I carefully close it then cross my chest, hoping that she buys the lie.
“Praying,” I reply, tucking the Bible into the drawer of the vanity unit and turning to face her.
“You’ll be praying to theLord Almightyfor mercy when Konrad finds out you’ve not followed his orders,” she scoffs with a shake of her head and roll of her eyes.
“Is that for me?” I ask, ignoring her sarcasm as she settles the tray on top of the chest-of-drawers. She seems different, less sympathetic than when we first met.
“You’re supposed to be washed and changed into those clothes,” she says, pointing to the cotton dress laid out across the bed. “They’ll be here within the hour. You don’t want to disappoint them… And, yes, this is for you.”
“What will happen if I disappoint them?” I can’t help but ask.
She bites on her lip, sighing. “You’ll end up like the others.”
“Others?”
“Yes, the other Numbers. Better to be owned by The Masks than loaned out to the men and women who come here.”
“What do you mean,loaned out—”
“I mean it’s not all bad,” she interrupts quickly. “The show isgreat, magnificent actually. The Numbers are truly gifted. It’s just the other stuff...” her voice trails off and her cheeks tinge pink.
“What show? What is this place exactly? Who comes here? Whatotherstuff?”
Squaring her shoulders, she shakes her head and strides across the room towards me. “I’ve said too much.”
“You’ve barely said anything. Please, Nala, tell me what’s happening here.”
She shakes her head, her small hands wringing in front of her. “They will tell you everything so long as you behave. You will behave, won’t you?”
