Page 6 of Rise of the Gods: Vardor’s Destiny (Time for Monsters)

I didn't sleep much the night after the ball. My head spun with worry about my future. I didn't doubt for a moment that Thomas would follow through with his threat and send me to St. George's Fields. It was a quite genius solution to his problem. Would I not have been the victim in this, I would have admired him.

The question was how I could escape my inevitable fate. Thomas might have liked my looks, I might have even been able to convince him to fall in love with me, but just like Henry had said, as a mistress I would have been acceptable, never as a wife. Not even if Thomas fell head over heels in love with me. I wasn't part of their world, and I never would be.

I punched my pillow for the hundredth time that night, thinking about the unfairness of life. My father would force me to marry Thomas, who would send me to an asylum for the mentally insane. And there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

Without money, I couldn't run away. No, that wasn't entirely true. Even with money, it would have been hard for me to run away. As a single woman, I would be scrutinized wherever I went—the perfect victim for any pickpocket, highway robber, murderer...

Briefly, I contemplated marrying someone else. Anyone else. Confronting my father and Thomas with a fait accompli. That would serve them right, but it would also put me in the same predicament, married to a man who could do whatever he pleased with me. Besides, who would I choose? The baker? He had been insinuating a marriage for years. Then what? Have a bunch of babies? Get up at the crack of dawn to bake bread? No thank you.

Joining a convent. That sounded as appealing as being sent to the nuthouse. No thank you.

I sighed and punched the pillow again. I was a woman. A woman with dreams of her own. I wanted to go to Egypt. I wanted to be part of excavations. I wanted to see ancient ruins. Nobody ever asked me what I wanted. For a moment, those dreams had been within my fingers' reach. Last night, when Thomas confided he was enamored with ancient Egypt as well, it felt as if the universe were finally on my side. Unfortunately, it didn't last long.

What I needed was a plan.

I just had no idea what sort of plan.

Abigail. I needed to talk to my best friend. She was so much more conniving than me. She knew how to manipulate people to get what she wanted. She had been married for a year now, and her husband did all her bidding. You just have to know how , she had confided and winked. Sadly, I had no idea how.

I closed my eyes. Yes, Abigail. Sunday. I would see her on Sunday.

Tomorrow, Thomas was still taking me to Piccadilly to see the mummy unwrapping show. Something I had dreamed of doing for a long time. I decided I might as well enjoy it; I might as well get all the living in while I still had a chance.

With that thought, I cried myself to sleep. I woke with bleary eyes late the next morning to another day of endless fussing. The seamstresses returned with more dresses that needed to be tried on and adjusted. I was getting more dresses than I had ever owned in my entire life. That morning though, I couldn't muster the enthusiasm that had filled me the previous days. Whenever I put on a new dress, I wondered if I would even get to wear it. Would it rot away in my closet after Thomas put me away?

One seamstress noticed me sniffling. "Are you alright, mistress?"

"I'm fine," I forced a smile to my lips, "I think I'm coming down with a cold, that's all."

My words turned the conversation to colds making the rounds in London and how someone's cousin swore by Irish whiskey and lemons combined with honey. Glad the conversation had shifted from me, I resumed my gloomy thoughts until they left and Prudence arrived to resume her endless teachings of etiquette. Once again, I found myself wondering why I even bothered. It wasn't like the people at court would notice my efforts. They would only all too gleefully harp on any mistakes I would make.

"How do you deal with the ladies who snob you?" I asked her.

"A lady would never snob another unless given reason to," Prudence explained haughtily. "Which is why it is so important for you to learn to put your little finger away from the cup handle." She pushed the end of her always-present ruler against my little finger to emphasize her point.

After endless hours of practicing correct posture and memorizing how to address the highborn, it was finally time to prepare myself for tonight.

Punctual as before and with an appreciative smile that almost made me doubt the veracity of the overheard conversation with Henry, Thomas waited for me at the foot of the stairs like the previous night.

"You look stunning, Roweena." He complimented me.

I didn't have to force a smile to my lips at his words. How could someone be so charming and so conniving? I allowed myself to get wrapped up in his charismatic presence, stubbornly set on enjoying this evening. A stupid part in me, a stupid, childish part, insisted that maybe, just maybe, I could win him over with my charms. Could there be a chance for us after all?

He was so nice and attentive in the carriage, asking me about my day and laughing with me when I told him about the many needles and how somehow one always seemed to prick me. He related stories of his tailor and even showed me a small scar on his arm where one especially sharp needle had scratched him so deep, the wound had to be stitched.

"I made the tailor do it since I already knew he was good with seams," Thomas laughed, and I fell in with it. I declared how brave he must have been. His eyes twinkled in merriment, and he even said, "You know, I think we could be really happy together."

I grinned at him like an idiot. "Me too."

My hopes soared that there was a chance for us, that he wouldn't follow through with his evil plans.

"Have you thought about where you would like to go for our honeymoon?" He wanted to know.

"Egypt," I instantly replied, before my face turned flaming red. "I'm sorry, I?—"

He laughed, "No reason to be embarrassed, my sweet. I'm just so happy that we are in agreement on this."

"Truly?" My eyes must have been as big as saucers.

"Truly," he took my hand and brought my fingers up to his lips to kiss them, sending shivers down my body and creating a strange fluttering sensation in my stomach that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

He helped me out of the carriage. His hand moved to the small of my back and stayed there for the rest of the evening. Giddiness spread through me and stayed with me all the way up to the second floor, where, like last night, men and women dressed in their best mingled. A servant offered a tray with champagne, and Thomas led me to his grand box. I had never been in a box, leave alone a grand one, and admired the deep red velvet covering the chairs, carpet, and walls. Only two chairs were inside ours, whereas I spied the ones next to us offered four or six. They were the same size as ours, leaving me to ponder that, most likely, the other two to four chairs in here had been removed.

I could only come up with one explanation why. Thomas didn't want me to mix with the other aristocrats, and my happy mood shifted back to gloomy. Not for long though, because the lights dimmed. Thomas handed me a looking glass so I could see the stage better as the orchestra turned their soft melody into a drumroll. The large, red velvet curtains pulled to the side, exposing a single man standing by a large sarcophagus. My heart pounded harder. All thoughts of anything else evaporated at the sight of it. My sarcophagus.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. I congratulate you on your courage of being here, because tonight we will bring back to light what hasn't been seen in thousands of years." Belzoni's voice was deep and carried over the hushed rows and rows of men and women seated below. I fidgeted in my chair as I adjusted the looking glass.

"For thousands of years this sarcophagus has rested under the sands of the Sahara Desert, waiting for a brave, adventurous soul to find it and bring it here. This moment will go down in history, ladies and gentlemen. You are about to witness an extraordinary event. This isn't a normal coffin, no, this is a royal coffin. Even though we don't know what is in it, or who, the fine art with which this sarcophagus was carved suggests someone of utmost importance. Maybe the great Ramses himself?"

Loud ohs and ahs moved through the crowds seated in the lower ranks. I forced myself not to move or make a sound, to be like the other ladies of rank sitting in the other grand boxes. I felt their eyes on me—observing, waiting, judging.

"And now the moment you have been waiting for, or one of them," the Great Belzoni snickered, then moved the lever I had discovered. To another round of loud ohs and ahs , the lid opened. Despite having seen this before, I leaned forward, pressing the looking glass so hard against my eyes, I was sure they would leave indentations.

Two burly men appeared, moving the lid fully off the sarcophagus.

"Let's see what we have here. Oh, ladies and gentlemen, I wish you could see this." He held up one of the golden necklaces I had seen before, and instinctively, I fingered my ring.

The light of the myriad of candles reflected in the gemstones, and more expressions of amazement moved through the crowd.

I felt a hand on my lower arm. Thomas. I dared a sideways glance at him around the looking glass and found him staring at the stage in equal fascination. My stomach cramped at the thought of how perfect we were for one another. I wished he could see past our social differences and see me for the person I was. A person perfectly suited for him.

"Oh, what treasures," the great Belzoni pulled out one item at a time, showing it off much to the delight of the audience before moving to the next.

A woman dressed rather scantily came forward, holding a tray filled with scalpels and knives. "And now, let's start the first cut to see what is hiding underneath all these bandages, shall we?"

He held up a scalpel, but then stopped. "What am I thinking? I've done this a hundred times. Who would like to do the honors?"

Hands moved up, cries of me and I erupted. Again I leaned forward, anxious to see who the great Belzoni would select as he slowly scanned the seated people, some of whom had risen, nearly jumping up and down.

"Hmm, hmm." The Great Belzoni made a show of walking to the front of the stage, still scanning the audience. His eyes moved up. A strange sensation rose inside me, as if my entire body heated from the inside.

"How about that pretty lady up there?" He pointed straight at me.

My breath stopped. My hand flew to my chest, me ?

He nodded, "Yes, if you please, lady?"

"Go on," Thomas encouraged me, grinning. The twinkle in his eyes betrayed him.

"Did you arrange this?" I asked, rising with my pulse thrumming in my veins.

Nodding, his smirk expressed how happy and proud he was with himself. I wanted to hug him, but Belzoni was waiting for me. Besides, a hug would have been scandalous.

"Thank you," I breathed from the bottom of my heart before I rushed out of the grand box to where a server waited for me and escorted me down a different set of stairs. My legs were wobbly, and I had to hold on to the railing to not miss a step.

"Ah, there she is. Great lady, please tell us your name." Belzoni greeted me, kissing my hand.

"Lady Roweena," I stretched my title, unwilling to share all the details. I didn't think I would have been able to even if I had tried. My voice trembled enough already.

"Are you ready for the greatest moment of your life, Lady Roweena?" He asked, subtly pushing me toward the sarcophagus, which looked exactly like I had left it. Except... I swallowed when my eyes found my forgotten handkerchief. RW was stitched in the corner in gold thread. It was one of many I owned, all embroidered by myself. Had he seen it? Would he? Could I snatch it?

"There," he placed a scalpel in my hand, and I palmed it, pulling it toward the lifeless form in the center of the coffin. "Right here, if you will."

My hand was shaking with emotions. So many emotions. Most of all, how wrong it would feel cutting into bindings that had been wrapped around this person thousands of years ago in order to preserve him for eternity. Belzoni pushed my hand a little closer; the blade touched the linen and shook badly.

Belzoni chuckled in my ear. "Nothing to it, Lady Roweena."

Suddenly my ring, the same ring I had taken from the sarcophagus, heated up. Golden lights swirled inside the black pearl. I stiffened and my head swam as every particle of me seemed to be pulled into the ring. Every ounce of strength, every drop of blood, every part of my soul flooded into the ring, making me sway and forcing Belzoni to keep me steady.

A golden glow emanated from the jewel, but nobody seemed to see it besides me. The glow spread, encompassing the mummy before me. A deep groan rose from it, the body jerked, and I jumped back with a cry.

My cry wasn't the only one. The formerly hushed audience erupted in screams. Chairs pushed back as people scrambled out of their seats to run toward the exits.

Belzoni even pulled me backward, an expression of utter disbelief on his face. The jerking of the mummy stopped, but then I heard a deep sigh, barely audible over the chaos from the fleeing audience. It was the sound of lungs filling for the first time in thousands of years.