What would the duchess accuse her of now? Sophie searched her mind for things she had done that the duchess may have uncovered. She had given food to some starving children who had come begging at the kitchen door, but that had been days ago. She searched her memory for something else …
Then she remembered. Yesterday she had followed a guard into the woods, and after he’d heaved a sack of squirming puppies into the river, against her better judgment, Sophie had dived in after them. Dragging the heavy cloth bag from the bottom of the shallow river, she’d dumped out all five creatures on the riverbank, wet but alive. Someone must have seen her and told the duchess. She couldn’t read minds, could she?
“Nothing to say? You know what you did. You defied me.” The duchess’s voice sounded like the hiss of a snake. “You followed the guard to the river in order to save those worthless, mongrel puppies. You are a disobedient, deceitful, horrible little wretch.” She spat out the words as if they were venom.
Sophie’s mouth went dry. Duchess Ermengard hated dogs, especially lap dogs. Anything small and helpless incited her hatred. And these puppies would never grow anywhere close to the size of hunting dogs, which the duchess gave to Lorencz the huntsman to use in his deer hunts.
“I expect my orders to be obeyed. I don’t expect my scullery maid to defy them.” She said the words scullery maid the way she always did, as though they were a curse.
Sophie thought about the tiny dogs she’d saved and remembered their soft fur and the way they’d whimpered and licked her hand. For a moment she could almost feel the little brown-and-white one snuggled against her cheek. The feel of his furry little face against her skin had made her feel loved, as if he knew she’d saved him.
“You are a wicked …” The cold, hard edge of the duchess’s voice tore Sophie out of her pleasant memory.
Sophie closed her eyes. I will not listen. I will not listen …
“… rebellious, disrespectful girl. You will learn to respect me. You were nothing, a changeling orphan, an ugly child. You wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for me.”
I am not wicked. I am not ugly.
The duchess was snarling now, her voice growing louder. “You will learn not to treat my rules with contempt. You will be disciplined.”
Sophie didn’t have to open her eyes to see the malicious glint in the duchess’s eyes or to see her lips pressed into that tiny, pinched, cold smile, the smile she always wore when doling out punishment.
I am not wicked. I am not rebellious …
Sophie longed to touch the wooden cross that hung from her neck, to squeeze it and feel comforted by the thought of her Savior’s suffering, his compassion and forgiveness. But she didn’t dare. If the duchess found the cross that was hidden under her dress, she would tear it away from Sophie and destroy it.
“For your wickedness,” the duchess went on, slowly, as though savoring each word, “you shall spend the next two days and nights in the dungeon with no food or water.”
Two days and nights. Sophie’s heart seemed to stop beating. But at least, maybe, the duchess was finished with her.
Sophie curtsied, keeping her head low. She focused on replying according to the duchess’s rules. “Let it be as you say, Duchess Ermengard. I am your servant Sophie.”
Two soldiers came forward and grabbed her by her arms.
Just as she relaxed slightly, Sophie heard, “Wait! Bring her here.”
Sophie’s stomach dropped. What would the duchess do now? Sophie determined not to show panic as the two guards dragged her forward. Any expression of fear would only make things worse.
“Look at me,” the duchess ordered.
Sophie lifted her face, preparing herself for the black emptiness of the duchess’s eyes.
As soon as their gaze met, the duchess lifted her hand and slapped Sophie across the face.
Stunned, Sophie closed her eyes against the sting, tasting blood on her teeth. Her eyes watered but she refused to cry. She took deep, slow breaths to drive away the tears as the duchess kept up her cold stare. I mustn’t show weakness.
Time and silence hung heavy in the air. Then Duchess Ermengard ordered, “Take her away.”
The guards pulled Sophie, stumbling, across the stone floor toward the dungeon.
Gabehart hurried down the corridor with his father, Duke Wilhelm. The slap of their boots on the flagstones echoed against the walls. An old woman had been brought in the day before, feverish and unconscious. Gabe had paid the visitor little mind until their healer, Frau Lena, sent for him and his father, saying the woman had awakened and was telling a tale they needed to hear firsthand to believe.
Of course, if his older brother Valten hadn’t broken his leg a few days ago, keeping him confined to his chamber, she wouldn’t have sent for Gabe at all.
Gabe and his father entered the healer’s tower and strode across the room to the sickbed. The mysterious traveler lay still, her white hair plastered to her head, her wrinkled eyelids closed. Her lips were white and her cheeks gray. Is she already dead?