Dark Diary (7 page)

It was surely a sin for a lady to tend to a servant the way she did, and I wanted to tell her that. But her attention was so heartening, I couldn’t resist letting my shoulders relax and allowing my weight to sink deeper into the chair.

She swept a stray lock behind my ear. My lashes rose and I looked her in the eye. Her breath stopped and the cloth fell from her hand, splashing into the water bowl.

“What? What is it, Kathryn?” I asked, startled by her silence.

Her hands grasped my face and a thumb slid across my cheek.

“Matthaya.” She paused to look me over. “Behind all that dirt and hair, you are very beautiful.”

What!?

“No!” I pulled my face from her grasp and hissed. “If your father were to hear you, he would kill us both.” Her honesty was kind to my ears but painful to my heart—we were not at liberty to think such things and the struggle to ignore them grew more difficult with age.

“I’m not finished with you!” She pulled on my arm hard as I attempted to stand.

“You cannot change who I am,” I growled, flopping reluctantly back down onto the chair. “This will not alter the way
they
feel about our friendship.” I crossed my arms and tucked my hands into the bends of my elbows.

Metal clinked as she took a small pair of shears into her hand.

I didn’t like being touched, but…

“You
do
know how to use those? Don’t you?” I asked, a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

She said nothing in reply and wrinkled her lips angrily to one side. I looked away.

Lock by lock, unkempt pieces of my hair drifted to the floor. A frightening amount of hair was coming off.

She took a small comb from her dresser and ran it through my hair, brushing more to one side than the other, some back behind my ears and then the rest down against the nape of my neck. I rubbed the base of my neck with my fingertips and looked back toward Kathryn, who was now holding a dainty mirror in her hands. It was odd, indeed, feeling nothing where hair had once been.

A groan slipped from my lips involuntarily as my reflection was revealed. “It’s too… plain.” I raked both hands through my hair and ruffled it between my fingers to give it more life. “Otherwise, it’s wonderful,” I noted with a grin. “Much better. Thank you.”

Kathryn sighed in relief.

She didn’t argue with my adjustments and turned to gather a pile of fabric from atop her dresser. She handed the stack of clothes to me and I stiffened.

They were her father’s.

“He disposed of them years ago, Matthaya,” she said. “And I assure you they have long since been forgotten.”

The jacket was made of fine linen, deep ruby-colored and looked to be my size. I pulled my arms through the sleeves, shrugged it over my shoulders, and marveled at its near-perfect fit. Both the color and texture were exquisite—something the likes of which I had rarely seen and certainly never possessed.

Though it sorely matched my dingy off-white tunic, the jacket felt good—wonderful against my skin—and I couldn’t help but smile at the way it fit me.

But as I turned my wrist over to study the details, a fine pair of silver cufflinks snagged my attention.

“Are you
certain
your father does not want these?” My thumb massaged the soft fabric again.

“Yes.” Kathryn nodded. “I am certain of it.”

My stomach churned anxiously. Her father was a horrible person and I wanted no part of him—even if it meant giving up the one piece of finery I could have called my own. What I would have given to wear something as fine as it in Kathryn’s presence. But it wouldn’t change me or my place in society.
Nothing could.

I slid the jacket from my arms, folded it neatly, and then stood and handed it back to her. “You can dress me however you wish, Kathryn, but it will not alter the reflection I cast.”

“I am not trying to change you.” Kathryn’s voice broke and she hugged the folded jacket close to her chest. “I swear it, my love.”

“Your
love
?” I echoed bitterly. “I am no one to your family.
I am nothing to those above me, and despite how you may disregard the fact, that
does
include you.” I turned to leave. “Regardless of what you believe, Kathryn, I will never have permission to love you.”

She gasped and I immediately made the regrettable mistake
of looking back at her. Her pupils were enlarged and
her eyes were pink around the edges—the whiteness in them
shining with the threat of tears.

Everything she had done for me had been out of the love and kindness of her heart. She had been my friend for as long as I could remember and I could not stand to see her cry.

“I appreciate your good intentions,” I said in a quieter tone, approaching her. “But I cannot help but fear
that others will misinterpret them.”

Her frown radiated with sorrow dark enough to shake
the heavens. Her smile had always been uplifting and angelic, but
her sadness hollowed out my body like death seizing a victim.

“Please!” I took a step closer and cupped her warm, reddened cheek with my palm. “You do not understand how painful it is for me to see you like this. You mustn’t cry when I am with you.”

“But, Matthaya, I…” Her breaths
were short and sporadic as she gathered the strength to look me in the
eye again. “The feelings of others may never change,” she said, choking on
tears, “but my feelings for you have grown stronger with each
passing day.”

As had mine…

“I cannot approve your confession, Kathryn.” I bent
down onto one knee and grasped one of her hands between my own. “God knows what your father would do to me if he suspected anything other than child’s play. Our friendship means little to him.” My hands tightened over hers and I hardened my gaze. “Do you want to lose me forever?”

“No!” She shook her head violently. “No!”

“If you wish to keep me near, you must tell no one else of your feelings.”

She trembled within my grasp as I spoke. I didn’t want to scare her, but I had little choice. I would have given anything to be by her side—and everything to remain there. As friends or… more.

Our differences were facts we had to face. Sooner or later,
she would be forced to marry some other man and would be lost to me forever. Until that day, I could not bear to be parted from her and, until that day, I would not ignore the tears she shed for me.

I awoke the next morning, the crowing roosters rousing me from my sleep. The servants’ quarters where I stayed were small and plain, but they suited the very basic needs of living. I was lucky enough to have my own room, though I was hardly there at all. With Kathryn’s frequent invitations to join her elsewhere, one might assume I was an average member of the household.

There was a bowl of mostly-clean water placed atop the dingy table near my bedside. I dipped my cupped hands into it and splashed the water onto my face. The air was already hot and sticky—a sign the day was going to be long and the sun unforgiving.

I reached across the table for my tunic and paused at the sound of footsteps outside my door. Muffled voices followed. I pried open the door to investigate and was startled by a swift lunge at my throat.

I choked and gasped as two large, heavily-built men grabbed ahold of my arms and jerked me outside and into the nearby field. I had barely caught my breath before the stench of their foul body odor wrinkled my nose. I didn’t recognize their faces, but the scent of alcohol lacing their skin had me assuming they were friends of Lord Shallon.

“Where are you taking me!?” I called out, fighting to free myself. “What have I done?” Neither man answered.

I trusted Kathryn to keep silent, but our secret was beginning to wear heavily on my conscience.

Had she told him something about us?

I couldn’t keep my footing as I was dragged forcefully across the property, over a rocky stretch of dirt and fallen branches. Mounds of stones and twigs grazed my bare feet, leaving them scraped and bloodied from the treacherous journey.

We paused. I brought my head up and stopped breathing.

My… God…

They released me and I fell to my knees upon a dusty p
ile of sand and rocks. On each side of me stood a tall wooden
pole. There was about six feet between them and brown
traces of old blood stained the ropes that dangled ominously
from each side. I had imagined some of the torturous things Lord Shallon had done to those who had discredited him, but this petrified me.

“Please! Tell me what I have done wrong!” I flinched as dry, crusty threads dug into my flesh. They wrapped the ends of the rope in tight knots around my wrists. My arms rose up and out to the sides as they pulled the ropes tautly around the poles until I was unable to move in either in direction. My arms burned from the pressure of my shoulders being tempted from their sockets and I clenched my jaw.

A hearty laugh came from the distance.

“Well, well, well…” Kathryn’s father croaked. “I knew
someday you would be trouble, boy.” His deep, sadistic voice
sent shivers up my spine, numbing the sting of the shredded ropes around my wrists.

“What have I done, my Lord?” If I was to be punished, I at least wanted to know the reason. “Tell me. Please!”

The piercing crack of a leather whip shocked my ears and I craned my neck in the direction of the sound.

Lord Shallon came out from behind me, his hands drawn
out to the sides with thick straps of a whip stretched tight between them.

“So… you think you can pick up anything you want and take it with you,” he growled. “Not in
my
place. Not on
my
land. Here… my servants
obey
me.” He snapped the whip.

“I took nothing!” I cried hoarsely. Sweat drizzled from my forehead into my eyes and fear strangled the air from my lungs as panic set in.

He disappeared from sight and I braced myself.

CRACK!

The strike rattled my spine and sent me reeling forward. I gritted my teeth, but it did nothing to dull the pain of the rigid strap slicing into my bare back.

“Please, my Lord, I swear it!”

CRACK!

The breath was knocked from me. I coughed hard. My
entire body shook from the deep ache ripping across my skin.

CRACK!

Again… and again. Each successive strike intensified the hellish heat of the leather tearing into my flesh; each blow was stronger than the previous one.

CRACK!

I howled in pain and lunged forward, my body hanging by bloodied, tattered ropes as my eyes watered. My mouth became dry and I could barely swallow. Fresh blood
drizzled from the wounds and my surroundings blurred, shifting
in and out of focus. The searing fire pumped through me like poison, flooding and stinging every inch of me.

He snapped the whip back and I was tempted to bite my tongue to prevent myself from crying out again.

“Father, stop!” Kathryn yowled, her sharp voice quaking with fear. She was not far from where I was. “Stop! He has stolen nothing from you!”

Kathryn came tumbling down to her knees at my side and I felt the weight of her arms across my shoulders. My vision was fuzzy, but I could make out the pale blue fringe
of her skirt fanned out near my legs. I didn’t have the strength to
lift my head.

“How do you know this?” Lord Shallon growled. I could not see his face, but he sounded disappointed about having to halt the abuse.

Kathryn’s trembling hands held tightly to my bloody shoulders, but it was a pain I welcomed.

“I know this, F-Father, because… I…” She stumbled over her words. “Because…”

“I gave them to him,” Lady Maria, Kathryn’s mother, interrupted. “Let the boy be. He has done nothing to scorn you. I gave him those clothes. You had no use for them!”

She motioned for her daughter to untie the ropes binding my hands, but Kathryn had already begun to do so, her precious fingers painted red with my blood.

“And you two should be ashamed of yourselves for hurting this innocent lad.” Lady Shallon sent a piercing gaze toward her husband’s accomplices. “Get out of here.” With the show now over, they obeyed, slithering reluctantly out from view.

Lord Shallon scoffed angrily at his wife. “You cannot treat the servants so well or they’ll assume they are privileged.”

“He is human like the rest of us.” Maria’s voice rose and one of her hands came to grace my shoulder. “I will treat him as one.” She leaned over and helped pull me to my feet. “I will tend your wounds back at the manor, Matthaya.”

“No!” Kathryn wrapped her hands tightly around my arm. “I will tend to him, Mother.” She pulled me in her direction and lifted my arm across her shoulder to help me balance.

Each step sent a shockwave of pain through my ribs, but Kathryn’s presence gave me the courage to bear it.

“I am sorry,” she said, frowning. She returned to where I sat at her bedside and brought a bowl of water. “I did not mean for any of this to happen.” Kathryn squeezed the excess water from a white cloth and patted it gently against my back. I stifled the urge to cough.

“You did not want them to begin with and I should not have left them for you,” she said, dipping the bloody cloth back into the bowl and then wringing it out again. “I had no idea my father was capable of such cruelty.”

I had.

I hadn’t even had the time to notice that she had left the clothes for me outside my room during the night.

“I made a mistake, Matthaya.” Her voice shuddered as she wrung out another handful of blood into the bowl. “I did not think he would assume what he did.” She shook her head and exhaled a sigh. “I am such a fool.”

The ache dulled for a moment and I turned toward her. A tear rolled down her face and she used her forearm to wipe it away, hoping I wouldn’t notice.

I hated to see Kathryn cry because I could do very little to ease her suffering. With each fresh tear, I yearned to take her into my arms and comfort her—feel her breath on my skin.