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“How exquisite.” Artemus pauses, then runs a finger along her cheekbone, caressing her skin. Leaning closer, he lowers his voice. “Do you admire your new dress, my dear?”
Crissy remains still, avoiding his gaze. Her eyes stay trained on the ground as she struggles to keep herself composed.
“She doesn’t deserve to wear a dress. She’s nothing but a filthy whore.” Matilda strides into the dining room and claims the seat to Artemus’s right with an air of superiority. “The dress is wasted on her.”
“The dress is for me, Mother.” Artemus draws his finger down Crissy’s cheek. “I could bury her here, just like the others.” He pauses, then adds, “Maybe I will.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You can’t do that.”
“Can’t?” He shakes his head, a derisive snort escaping him as he narrows his eyes. “Silly girl. This is my domain, where I rule. I have, and do, whatever I want. It is a lesson poor Crissy failed to learn, but she’s learning now.”
I stare at him, my mouth gaping. “You’re a monster.”
He responds with another snort, narrowing his eyes further. “I’m your host,” he snaps back at me. “And I’ve asked for something so simple.”
“I don’t know anything about the Guardians.”
His face contorts with rage, and he leans toward me menacingly. “No, but the Guardian who’s sitting in that cell downstairs does. What do you think he will do when he sees a collar around your neck as you serve me?” Each shallow breath he takes emits a low growl.
“You’re a monster.” I can’t help but repeat myself.
He straightens, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “Ah, come now. Surely your vocabulary is more extensive than that? But for now, I’m merely your host.” He snaps his fingers and the obedient butler springs into action. “And it seems I’ve been somewhat neglectful these past few days. You must be starving.”
The butler brings in a tray of exquisite dishes, each one more sumptuous than the last. Artemus dishes out generous helpings for himself. His butler serves his mother, then comes around to fill my plate. Crissy gets nothing, being shoved to the floor where she kneels, head bowed.
“My lovely Barbie doll, you must eat. You wouldn’t want to insult the chef or your host.” He gestures to my untouched plate.
I contemplate resisting, but I fear that any defiance will only provoke him to do something truly dreadful. With Crissy’s fate hanging in the balance, I better understand how Alec must feel. I would do anything to save Crissy; a woman I don’t know. And Alec will move heaven and earth to save me. I don’t see a way out for either of us.
I debate the safety of the meal, but since he and his mother are eating from the same prepared trays, I reluctantly attack the food. Days of intentional starvation and dehydration leave me hating myself for eating while Alec starves in the cell far below ground level.
The remainder of the evening is filled with strained dinner conversation at best. Matilda sneers at Crissy, taking every opportunity to belittle the poor woman. Artemus talks about his travels with an air of superiority and entitlement, while ensuring his mother’s plate is never empty and her glass of wine is always full. Throughout it all, Crissy remains silent, her body trembling with fear.
Artemus finally rises from his chair, announcing that it’s time for us to retire for the evening. I’m relieved until he turns his attention to me. He walks around the table and grabs my face, forcing me to look at him. “Have a nice talk with your Guardian. Tell him I want you, not Crissy.”
“What?”
“Mother, I want my Barbie doll to be my bride.”
“That tramp?” Matilda points a bony finger at me. “She brings nothing to the table. I will find you a different bride.”
Artemus scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Like you did with Carmen? Maybe you should let me choose who I’ll marry.”
“You need a woman with status, wealth, and the political connections we require.”
“No, Mother,” he cuts off his mother, and Matilda flinches as if stung. “You had your chance, and look how that turned out?” Suddenly, Artemus leans down, crushing his lips against mine.
The kiss revolts me. He revolts me. His touch makes my skin crawl. I should fight. I should kick and scream and bite. I don’t.
I do nothing.
Matilda laughs. Her cackling laughter sends licks of fear down my spine. “Your Barbie doll is a useless whore.”
Artemus releases me and it’s all I can do to avoid wiping his spit from my mouth. He glares at his mother, and a tense exchange of stares and nonverbal communication occurs between them.
“I want her.” Artemus pouts like a petulant child, an odd reaction from a man past his prime.
I want no part in this twisted mother-son dynamic. Without another word, Artemus seizes the chain attached to Crissy and yanks her away, leaving me alone with Matilda.