The Traitor's Daughter

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

"I'll ask you once more, you stubborn bitch," Sir Richard spat as he picked his dagger off of the worn table that sat beside him.

Tools and weapons cluttered the table in neat rows, taking up every inch of the scratched and maimed wood. The weapons were organized by age and the overall appearance, going from the shiniest and newest tools, to the oldest and dirtiest. Sir Richard loved to run his hands across the objects repeatedly, until he found the one that he wanted to use to threaten the young girl sitting in front of him.

Elizabeth eyed the dagger warily, hoping that her fear didn't show. Her broken wrist had finally healed, but she had cuts and burns up and down her arms from where Sir Richard had hurt her the day before. The older man glared at the little girl sitting in a chair in front of him, his blue eyes shining in a way that reminded Elizabeth of a wild animal.

Richard set the dagger back onto the table, making sure that it was positioned just how he liked it. He turned to the fireplace and pulled out one of the rods sitting in the fire, his eyes examining the pointed glowing tip.

"You're not going to speak?" Sir Richard questioned sweetly, causing Elizabeth to shudder.

Elizabeth looked down at her lap, angry at the fact that one of her favorite gowns was stained and dirty. After her father was arrested, and Elizabeth was taken away, the king's men discarded all of the Ledford family's belongings, leaving Elizabeth with one dress, which she was still wearing, weeks later. It had been her favorite; a pale pink gown, which shimmered in the sunlight and reminded her of her favorite flowers in her family's garden. She always insisted on wearing it as often as she could, especially since her father always mentioned how it made her look like a little princess.

Now, the dress was torn, wrinkled, and stained, and she no longer loved it like she used to. It no longer shimmered in the sunlight, and it didn't float around her ankles, but instead hung limply off her body, now too big for her small, malnourished frame. Even worse, it reminded her of her father, who she missed more than she wanted to. Her heart had felt empty after he was executed, and she found that she missed the scratchy beard that she used to hate, and even missed her father's stories that sometimes didn't make much sense to her. She missed his laugh, which she realized that she was forgetting as time went on. She tried her hardest to remember his voice, and the way it would echo through the eaves of the ceiling when he got excited, but it only grew harder to remember. Soon, she thought, I will forget him altogether.

"I think you'll find that my friend here," Sir Richard said, breaking Elizabeth from her thoughts. He nodded towards the rod in his hand. "...Will help you find the courage to speak.

He approached Elizabeth and grinned as he met her terrified gaze. He suddenly jammed the sharp tip of the rod into the little girl's arm, causing her to cry out as blood pooled out around the iron, and her skin sizzled because of the heat. The smell of burning flesh filled the room, and Elizabeth gagged and whimpered, the pain shooting up her arm, and down through her body, to her toes. Still, she said nothing. Sir Richard frowned, his mind lost in thought.

He put the poker back into the fire, then grabbed another, more menacing rod. He approached Elizabeth again, and without warning, jabbed it into the same wound again, but deeper. Her shrill scream filled the room and echoed throughout the corridors, but she knew that nobody would come to her rescue. This was her punishment for being a traitor's daughter.

"Do you have anything to say?" He taunted. "Do I need to give you a little more help?" He nodded towards the fireplace, where more rods were waiting, as the tips cooked in the fire.