They Gave the Doomed Duke the Wrong Bride novel · Chapter 3 of 32

Chapter 3: Nothing Left to Kneel For

Bryony walks out of her father's house for good, the exile column leaves the capital, and on the first night the sergeant puts his sword on the Duke's little brother.

Seraphine stood in the doorway in pink silk, with two maids behind her.

"I came to say goodbye," I said.

"To my furs?"

"To you. The furs were a coincidence."

She walked in slowly and ran one finger along the lid of a chest.

"You were always in here," she said. "When we were little. Touching my things. Do you remember what Father did when he caught you with my doll?"

"He locked me in the coal cellar for two days."

"I asked him to." She smiled. "I was six. I thought you'd come out black."

Behind her the maids stared at the floor.

"You look terrible, Bryony. Did the traitor's mother make you sleep in the stable?"

"She gave me a room. It had a bed in it. That was new."

Her smile stayed put.

"Go back to your exile," she said. "If you come here again, I'll tell Father you were stealing."

Downstairs a door banged.

My father's voice in the front hall. Then quick boots on the stairs.

He came into the pink hall with his gold chain swinging and his face already red.

"What is she doing here?"

"She wanted to say goodbye," Seraphine said sweetly. "I think she wanted my pearls."

"I wanted to look at you," I said to him. "Once. Without the court watching."

He frowned.

"You have a column to catch, girl."

"You knew," I said. "Last night. The decree. You knew when you put me in that chapel."

"Of course I knew."

He didn't even lower his voice.

"The King's promise had to be kept. A Penhallow had to marry Draycott. Better the one I can spare."

Seraphine laughed.

Then she stepped forward and slapped me across the face.

It wasn't a hard slap. It didn't need to be.

The whole hall saw it, the maids, the footman at the stairs, the boy with the coal scuttle.

"Kneel," she said. "Kneel and say thank you. Without us you'd be in a ditch with your witch mother."

My cheek burned.

I didn't kneel.

"You're no daughter of mine," my father said. "Get out of my house."

"I never was," I said. "You told me so every day."

I walked to the door.

I put my hand on the frame, my mother's key inside my fist.

"Goodbye, Seraphine," I said. "Enjoy your wedding."

I pulled the dowry room door shut behind me.

Then I walked down the stairs and out past the footman.

Nobody stopped me, because nobody in that house had ever once thought I was worth stopping.

I was at the gate when the screaming started.

It was the house steward, from the cellar. "The strongroom! My lord, the strongroom is empty!"

A second voice, high and shrill. Seraphine's. "My chests! Where are my chests?"

I got into the escort's cart and told him to drive.

The column left the north gate at noon.

Eighteen carts. A few saddle horses.

Thirty-one people from the officers' families, women and old men and children, wrapped in whatever they'd been allowed to carry out.

The Draycott household had one cart.

The old steward had chosen to come. So had the cook, a big woman with flour still in the creases of her knuckles. "Somebody has to feed the boy," she said, and climbed up beside him.

Isobel rode in the cart with Ned and two bundles.

I walked beside it in my sister's gown and a borrowed cloak.

A red-bearded sergeant rode up and down the line with twelve guards, shouting at anyone who stopped to cry.

The city watched us go from its windows.

Nobody threw anything.

They didn't need to.

By dusk we'd made twelve miles and camped in a muddy field by a ditch.

The guards had a fire and a pot of stew.

We got barley water. One ladle each.

Ned drank his and held out the bowl again.

"No seconds for traitors' brats," the sergeant said.

Ned's face went tight. He was trying very hard not to cry in front of the guards.

Isobel put her own bowl in his hands without a word.

When it was full dark, I climbed into the back of our cart behind the bundles, where nobody could see.

I held the key, opened the little flap of the canvas, and stepped through.

Cold. Stone. Shelves and shelves of everything.

I came back with a loaf of bread still warm from the Draycott ovens, a wheel of cheese and a jar of honey.

I broke the loaf and put half in Ned's hands.

He stared at it.

Then he stuffed it in his mouth so fast he nearly choked.

"Slowly," I whispered. "There's more."

The cook took her piece and closed her eyes.

The old steward wept a little, quietly, into his cheese.

Isobel held hers and didn't eat.

"Where did this come from?" she said.

"The kitchen."

"There was nothing left in the kitchen."

"Then you'd better eat it before it notices."

Her gray eyes held mine across the dark.

Then she broke off a piece and ate it.

That was all. She didn't thank me.

It was the first thing she'd done all day that wasn't against me.

At the guards' fire, somebody laughed.

The sergeant came stamping over with a torch and pulled back the canvas.

He saw the crumbs.

He saw Isobel's hand.

On her finger was her wedding ring, a heavy gold band set with a dark red stone.

"Road tax," he said, holding out his glove. "Every exile pays. That'll do for the lot of you."

"No," Isobel said.

He drew his sword and laid the point against Ned's chest.

"Then the boy walks the rest of the way without his feet."

← Chapter 2 · All chapters · Chapter 4 →

Want to keep talking to characters like these? Chat with AI romance characters: AI Boyfriend · AI Girlfriend · Dark Romance · Fantasy Romance · BL (Boys’ Love) · Billionaire Boyfriend · Mafia Boyfriend · Possessive Boyfriend · Hockey Boyfriend · Older Boyfriend · K-Drama Boyfriend · Anime Boyfriend · Vampire Boyfriend · Werewolf Boyfriend · Demon Boyfriend · Fae Romance · GL (Girls’ Love) · Anime Girlfriend · Goth & Alt Girlfriend · Gamer Girlfriend · Tsundere Girlfriend · Fantasy Girlfriend