The Price {Completed}

Chapter Forty-Three

He stepped away to fetch the candle from his room, and held it by the pewter stand while he lit a match and held the flame to the wick. It caught, and lit the room in a wavering dimness. His eyes sought mine through the flame. "I will groom you and you will dance for me. We will try to forget the nasty business of your wayward path."

Advancing, he placed the candle on the small table by my bedside and grabbed the rope that tethered me. He pulled it toward himself, reeling me in like a net full of fish.

"Now, let's forget all about the golden puppy," he said, holding my neck firmly so that I couldn't move it. His gaze lingered on my lips as I squirmed to free myself. My hands, left free to dangle bound together, floundered for anything. They ran along the edge of the table until I caught hold of the candlestick. My fingers fumbled to wrap around it as Mr Lennox brought his lips down on mine viciously. My teeth cut into the back of my lips as he tightened his grip on my neck.

The candlestick nearly toppled as I groped for it, but then my fingers got a purchase and it was in my palm. I picked it up, feeling the heavy, cool pewter against my skin, and brought it in front of me in order to grip it tighter.

I pulled my arms back as far as the rope would allow. Mr Lennox still kissed me, his eyes closed but mine open and watching as I brought the heavy metal to his temple.

It vibrated up my hand, followed by a hollow crunch as candlestick met bone. He yelled out and let go of my neck as he crumpled to my feet. I wasted no time in kneeling down to fetch out the tiny blade I knew he kept in his waistcoat pocket, and applying it to the rope. As I sawed, I kept an eye on Mr Lennox. He rolled slightly, groaning but barely conscious. Blood spilled from the side of his face, pooling on the ground and soaking my skirt. I whimpered as I finally cut through the rope and scrambled away from the sticky warmness of his blood on my legs. The candle lay deposited on the ground under the bed, the flame still flickering away. I reached for it, to light my way to the door, but Mr Lennox grunted and tried to rise.

I pushed him back down roughly enough that he was dazed, and retrieved the key from his pocket. I had it and the knife now, and I held them in front of me as I stumbled toward the door and felt my way to the handle. I unlocked it, slid into the hallway, and closed it again. It took me four tries to get the key to finally fit into the lock, and when it did click I didn't feel confident that it would keep Mr Lennox for long, once he recovered enough to realize what happened. I pressed the door firmly and then fled down the stairs so swiftly that my feet caught on the hem of my dress and I slid on the blood. I caught myself on the bannister and crashed down the last few steps before pushing my way out into the cold air.

My breath clouded in front of me as I heaved in breath after breath of the cleansing winter. I crouched by the water pump, holding onto it while I tried to calm my heart and stop the shaking in my limbs. I thought I had been there only a few seconds, yet when I next looked up a group of people had crowded around. They did not watch me, though. They all trained their eyes upward, on something above and behind me.

One of them, a man with a beard and wearing an apron, glanced down at me. He looked shocked, and pointed to whatever they looked at. His mouth opened and his breath fogged the air. "Fire!"

I noticed the smell of burning wood, then, and looked over my shoulder to see flames eating away at the ceiling of the old lodging house. The occupants of the surrounding buildings spilled from the doors and shouted for their family members as the fire caught on and began to spread. My mouth hung open and I stumbled backward, watching as the flames crashed through a window and licked the outside air.

"Someone get the fire brigade!" a woman shouted, but there was no fire brigade to be had with the war going on. Instead, we watched as the fire ate the row of buildings, slowly and surely. The wood blackened, the smoke rose, ashes mixed with the snow until we knew not whether we stood in the frozen wonder of winter or in the destruction of someone's home.

As I watched, I began to see a shape in the fire. I knew it was silly and that it couldn't be, but the flames rose in the night sky and began the Funeral Dance. They ducked and wove, gently spinning through those steps I knew so well. Two partners, dancing against time.

I threw up and the bearded man patted my back, asking if I knew where my family was or if I had a place to stay. I just shook my head, not knowing what I answered, but wanting him to stop talking in my ear. He cupped his arm around my shoulders and led me away from the heat and into the dark. He sat me down on a doorstep and disappeared to reappear a moment later with a mug of water. I drank only one sip before holding it limply in my hands.

"You are hurt," the man said, his voice heavily accented. His calloused thumb brushed a spot on my face which caused me to draw back. It felt raw and hot. "It is bruised badly. You will have to have a doctor look at it."

"I'm fine," I said. "Thank you."

"Do you want me to walk you to where your family is?"

I shook my head. "I will be able to go on my own." I stood up, handing him the mug and walking away. I didn't know where I was going or what direction I should be going, I just knew I had to be away from the smell of the fire and the image of a locked door inside that burning building.

When next I knew, I was on an abandoned side street by the barracks of the Vigilant Men. Perhaps I thought I might see Ferdinand there, but I did not know. I ran my fingers along the black iron fence that surrounded the squat brick buildings, watching as what few soldiers were out went about their duties. None looked up to watch me pass by, and I did not want them to.

I had locked the door. The key still weighed heavy in my pocket. Mr Lennox could not have gotten out of the room. I shivered to think what might have happened in those last moments. Though my mind shied from it, perhaps my conscience wouldn't let me rest. It replayed the various scenarios, and I saw every expression that could have passed over his face in his last moments. I bent to throw up again, holding myself upright on the iron bars but swaying. One of the soldiers gave me a curled lip and shooed me off with hisses like I was a stray cat. I staggered across the road, away from him.