Her Assassin's Heart - Book 2

Chapter 38

I ended up listening to this ^^^^ song the entire time I was writing this chapter. It's so intense and dramatic, so I thought I'd share it with you. (It's Roxanne from Moulin Rouge for anyone who doesn't know or didn't see that 😜)

    Fulsmith was the sort of man who inspired terror, and that terror brought about undying loyalty. Through fear of what would be done to them if they disobeyed, he had acquired servants who would do his bidding no matter the personal cost. That was his strength.

    Cassandra discovered this an hour into the maid's ministrations. Her voice was hoarse, and her throat was sore when she realized her pleas were falling on deaf ears. They merely went about their work, silently.

    At first, she thought the women had simply been instructed not to speak to her. They certainly looked at her sympathetically, and one of them had tears in her eyes after Cassandra begged for release in a particularly stirring manner. Then one of them opened her mouth, and Cassandra discovered their tongues had been cut out.

    Sitting before the mirror as they styled her hair and applied makeup, she felt a heavy sinking in her heart. This was her fate. After Fulsmith was tired of her, she would become like these women, she knew.

    Drawing a deep breath, she vowed she would never let that happen. Nickolas and Julian were dead. She would get no help from them, but that didn't mean she was helpless. She'd never thought about taking her own life, but at the moment, it seemed like a pleasant option.

    The. . .outfit Fulsmith had chosen for her did, in fact, have a skirt. Four panels of black chiffon attached around her waist with a woven belt: two at her hips and one at the back and at the front. Slits running all the way up to her hips separated the strips of material, and her legs were entirely exposed with every step she took. However, it was something.

    It must have taken her at least two and a half hours to get bathed, dressed, and finished. While the time seemed to stretch on forever, it also passed for too quickly, and all too soon, it was time to join Fulsmith for dinner.

    One of the maids led her down the stairs. Her heart pounded heavily with every step, and it was the only thing she could hear. She tried to turn back or stop several times, but the woman was relentless in pulling her along until they reached an enormous doorway.

    Cassandra could clearly see the large dining room table. It was spread with uncountable amounts of food. It was evident the extravagance was Fulsmith's way of showing her how wealthy he was: there was far too much food for the two of them.

    The maid squeezed her hand gently as if to reassure her, but before Cassandra could react to the sudden kindness, the woman was gone, melting into the shadows without a sound. Drawing a shaky breath, Cassandra turned to looking into the room again, trying to force herself to move.

    "Do come in." Fulsmith drawled.

    She couldn't see him sitting at the table, and the sudden sound of his voice from out of nowhere was slightly terrifying. Tremors of fear ran up and down her spine, and her mouth went dry. She had to get out of here!

    Fear grabbed hold of her, threatening to strangle her. She swayed slightly, willing herself to breathe again. If she turned and fled now, she might just make it to the door. . .

    "Don't make me come out there and get you." He was nearby, and his voice was low and threatening. "Make no mistake: if you try to run, I will catch you, and you will suffer far more than you could ever imagine."

    She was out of options. 'Make him remember you.' The thought pressed into her mind, and she forced herself to straighten. Her fear broiled within her, clamping down on her throat like a wild beast. With all the strength she could muster, she propelled herself into the room.