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“T HE MASTER VISITED her in her room last night,” Mr. Flamme, the night-shift butler, reported eagerly as he joined the rest of the morning staff in the service kitchen.

There were excited gasps all around, and the man’s chest puffed with pride. He did like the attention so much, and as the kitchen helpers and housemaids fawned all over him, begging for more details, Mr. Flamme knew that he would be spying on the master tonight once more.

“How sure are you of this?” The head housekeeper, Mrs. Bouilloire, asked skeptically.

“I heard him prowling about the walls,” Mr. Flamme shared, “and so I followed the sound until it stopped—-” His voice lowered dramatically. “In the tower room of the east wing.”

Oooooooh.

The excitement inside the kitchen rose in palpable levels.

“That’s where the mademoiselle is, isn’t it?” Nana, one of the younger and prettier housemaids, asked with a giggle.

“Oui!”

This time, there were several squeals, and Mr. Temps frowned. “Quiet, the lot of you. If the master finds out you are talking about him—-” He trailed off deliberately, knowing that whatever consequences the staff imagined would be far worse than whatever threat he spoke of.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Temps.” Nana looked properly frightened now, and so did the younger maids.

Mrs. Bouilloire sent Mr. Temps a quelling glance. Was it necessary to turn the master into a bogeyman merely to quiet them?

It was the butler’s turn to feel embarrassed. The housekeeper was right, and besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t feel as hopeful as the rest of them. “I should apologize too, Nana,” Mr. Temps said. “I’m just being cautious is all. To celebrate this early might be premature and even backfire on us. However hard, we must let things take its natural course, and more importantly, we must not forget the master’s rules.”

Do not speak of the past.

Do not interfere.

And above all costs, do not let her leave.

Everyone nodded, even Mrs. Bouilloire and Mr. Flamme. Arabella Blume might be a charming little thing, but at the end of the day, it was the master they had sworn to obey – and protect.

****

I T WAS WELL PAST NOON when Arabella woke up the next day, but this time she hadn’t even the luxury of forgetting. This time, everything was burned indelibly in her mind, and for several moments she could only stare up at the lace canopy of her bed, utterly overwhelmed.

Was there truly no hope for escape?

Was this to be her life from now on?

What was the right thing for her to do?

Arabella’s jaw clenched. Well, one thing was for sure. Nothing would happen at all if she stayed in bed all day. Forcing herself to get up, she opened the door to what she was hoping was an en-suite bathroom—-

But it was more than that.

Arabella shook her head in dazed disbelief. This – this was fit for royalty, too. It was more a lavish boudoir than a mere walk-in closet and bathroom combined. The walls and floors were of white marble, the fixtures were all gold, and there was even a luxurious alcove on one side built between two columns. On another side was a large marble bath. Water was already running in it, bubbles rising to the surface, and when she went to dip a finger into it, Arabella could only shake her head again.

It was wonderfully hot, perfect to soak tired muscles in.

Was everything in this place perfect – except for its ability to restrain her freedom?

It’s all part of his dastardly plan , Arabella warned herself, so don’t let yourself forget that.

A tall order, but she managed to abide by it. Denying herself as much pleasure as possible, she took a shower instead of a bath, and when she opened the closet and saw the neatly arranged rows of dresses and shoes – she ignored all of it and instead donned one of her own dresses.

It was old and faded, yes, but at least it was hers and not bought by Aurélien Sauvage –

Like the rest of her.

Leaving the boudoir, she held her breath as she reached for the knob of the main doors of her bedroom. If it was still locked –

But the knob turned easily under her fingers, and soon Arabella was out. On her way to the stairs, she bumped into a maid with a feather duster in her hands, and to Arabella’s surprise, the woman’s eyes widened at the sight of her.

Hmm.

Did everyone here know who she was?

The other woman approached her cautiously, saying, “ Bonjour, Ms. Blume .”

Arabella forced a smile. “ Bonjour, err—-”

“I am Nana, mademoiselle. I am one of the maids here.” The other woman had returned her smile, but the wariness in her gaze didn’t completely go away.

“What is it?” she asked finally.

“Are you going to cry or try running away?” Nana blurted out.

Oh. Her lips twisted. “I would if I thought it was any help, but my little talk with Mr. Temps last night sort of gave me the impression that this place is heavily guarded—-” Nana started nodding profusely. “So there you go.”

“You are wonderfully calm about this, mademoiselle .”

“Umm.” Nana was looking at her with stars in her eyes.

“You are no doubt a very strong and brave woman, oui ?”

“Let’s just say I’m, err, practical?”

Nana nodded. “Practical is good.”

While this , Arabella thought, was getting weird .

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I was wondering where I could get some food if that’s possible—-”

The maid’s face brightened. “But of course, mademoiselle. Let me take you downstairs.”

As Nana led the way, Arabella said casually, “I met your master last night.”

“So it is true?” In her haste to face the master’s lady, Nana nearly tripped over her own feet and had to quickly hold on to the balustrade to keep herself from falling.

Arabella was alarmed. “Are you okay?”

“ Oui, oui, please do not mind me.” Nana sounded terribly and strangely excited. “But is it true, what you said? You met with the master?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And what do you think of him?” Nana held her breath.

“What else would I think of him?” Arabella couldn’t help asking blankly, confused by the hopeful look on the other woman’s face. “I’m a prisoner here.”

“Oui, oui.”

Arabella blinked. That was a been-there-done-that voice if she ever heard one. Was she being patronized here?

“But what about beyond that, mademoiselle ? What about how he looks?”

Now Arabella was even more confused. “I don’t care what he looks like.”

This time, Nana looked like she was about to swoon for joy. “You do not?”

“He bought me, Nana. He turned me into a slave—-”

“Oui, oui—-”

“Stop with that oui, oui !” Arabella was having a hard time holding on to her temper now. “You make it seem like my captivity is normal when it’s not!”

Only when a shamefaced expression fell over Nana’s face at her words did Arabella realize that her temper had struck again.

Oh, darn it!

Guilt filled her, and she apologized quickly, “I’m so sorry, Nana.” It was Arabella’s turn to look shamefaced. “I’ve always had the most horrible temper. And normally I can keep it together, but I guess—-” Arabella expelled her breath in frustration.

“Je comprends, mademoiselle.” Nana patted Arabella’s arm soothingly. “And I, too, must apologize. In my excitement, I have become insensitive to your situation, and for this - je suis désolée .” The maid started down the stairs again. “But let us not talk of such things for now, mademoiselle. I’m sure you must be starving so we should feed you without delay.”

After being given a choice between the breakfast room and dining hall but opting for the service kitchen where the rest of the staff had their meals, Arabella was then introduced to Nana’s other co-workers. There was Mrs. Bouilloire, the head housekeeper, Mr. Aliment, the head chef, followed by a dizzying set of French names for the other kitchen workers and housemaids. All of them smiled at her welcomingly, but none appeared inclined to free her from captivity.

Oooookay.

This was beginning to feel like a Stepford-controlled mansion, but she was going to let it be for now. If she wanted her mind working properly, she had to feed her growling stomach first.

The food was sumptuous. It was French cuisine at its finest, more delicious than anything she had ever eaten her entire life, but it also made Arabella feel weak and guilty for enjoying it so much. She had to remember she was a captive here and not a pampered guest!

When she was finished with her meal, the housekeeper asked kindly, “Would you like to have coffee or tea, mademoiselle ?”

“Coffee, please.”

“You heard the lady, Mr. Aliment,” Mrs. Bouilloire said while clearing away the dishes.

“Oui, madame.” The stocky-looking chef left his station and took out a leather folder from one of the steel drawers. “Have a look, s’il vous pla?t ,” he said with a smile as he offered the folder to Arabella.

Opening the folder, she found a menu in it that easily put Starbucks’ own list of caffeinated drinks to shame. She pointed to the one highlighted as the chef’s specialty. “What is this – kopi luwak ?” The staff started snickering as she said the words, and Arabella was confused. “Did I pronounce it wrong or something?”

The chef cleared his throat. “Ah, no. But that one is an acquired taste.”

Oh. Did that mean she wasn’t refined enough to appreciate it?

“Perhaps a latte for now, mademoiselle ?”

“I guess.” Arabella told herself not to be insulted. Maybe it was a French thing, never mind if the words didn’t sound French.

Nana asked her if she would like a tour of the front gardens while having her coffee, and Arabella was surprised. “I may leave the mansion?”

Nana looked equally surprised. “Of course.”

“But what if I try to escape?”

This time, her words had most of the staff looking away and pretending to be busy.

“ Mademoiselle—- ” Only the housekeeper was able to look at her in the eye, and the older woman’s gaze was sympathetic. “There is no way to escape this island.”

She stiffened.

“It is not what you would call an ordinary place—-”

“No kidding,” she muttered. “It has bonsais in the shape of unicorns and fairies.”

The housekeeper coughed to hide her amusement. “Those are, err, a whim of the former master, the father of Monsieur Sauvage. He wanted—-” The old woman seemed to choose her words carefully. “He wanted the world to be reminded that not all that was different was ugly or scary.”

Oh. Arabella could see the point in that, but even so – it didn’t make the whole place any less strange.

“I know this is hard for you, mademoiselle, but could you please consider giving the island – all of us, the master included – a try? Why not think of this as a vacation—-”

“But it’s not,” Arabella pointed out.

“Only because you insist on thinking it is not,” Mrs. Bouilloire countered calmly.

She shook her head stubbornly. “And my father? What about him? I’ve been forbidden contact with the outside world, and that includes my father—-”

“I am certain that the master may reconsider, if you persuade him nicely.” Mrs. Bouilloire gave her a meaningful look.

Arabella gasped, unable to believe that such a sweet-looking granny would suggest a thing. “You mean—-” She shook her head in disbelief. She may not watch a lot of TV, but even she knew that there was only one master that everyone spoke of these days.

Shaking her head, she said feelingly, “I can’t do what Daenerys did to tame Khal Drogo, not even for my father.”

Some of the staff choked while the housekeeper only looked at her in puzzlement. “Whatever are you talking—-” A giggling Nana hurried to whisper into the woman’s ear, and the housekeeper turned red. “My goodness!” She started fanning herself. “My goodness, no! I was only talking about the two of them starting off as friends!”

Oh.

Arabella was saved from making embarrassing excuses for herself when the chef presented her with coffee on the go, and a still-giggling Nana grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the kitchen.

“I can’t believe I thought of that,” Arabella said weakly as they made her way down the Great Hall.

Nana started giggling again. “Oh, but I think it is very appropriate, considering that the master—-” She stopped quickly, realizing what she had almost let slip.

Arabella raised a brow. “Considering the master is what?”

“Umm, nothing.” She changed the subject, saying, “You will love the gardens, I promise.” She nodded at the guards positioned by the front doors, and the men immediately pulled the doors open.

Arabella’s eyes widened.

The garden at the back of the mansion had been beautiful, but oh, this one in the front was amazing. Everything was larger than life, and the colors more vivid. It even had its own bridge, its own pond—-

“We skate there during the winter,” Nana shared eagerly, seeing where Arabella was staring. “And over there—-” She pointed to the far side of the island. “We can ski and sled. We even used to have midnight bonfires, and there would be wine and hot chocolate, and oh, so much food from the master’s kitchen! Winter is magical here,” Nana boasted.

“I see.” Don’t let yourself get swayed. Don’t let yourself get swayed.

“You will like it here, Arabella. I promise.”

Nana’s words were like a dose of ice-cold water.

“Oh, Nana.”

The smile from Nana’s face faded.

“He bought me! He made me his slave! How can I forget that? And how can you all accept that?”

“Because—-” Nana gulped. “Because we think you’re the one who can make him happy—-” Arabella had started shaking her head even before she finished speaking, but even so Nana said persistently, “It’s true, Arabella. We truly believe—-”

“Even if it’s so,” Arabella couldn’t help bursting out, “what about me ?” She threw her hands up in helpless frustration. “What about what makes me happy?”

“But you can be happy here, if you’d only give this a chance—-”

“And what about what’s right and wrong?” Arabella demanded.

Nana didn’t answer right away.

“I won’t be able to live with myself, knowing that I just went with whatever Aurélien Sauvage has planned for me simply because I have no choice!” Her voice shook at the end, and appalled at her near loss of control, Arabella started taking deep breaths.

“I am sorry, mademoiselle .”

Arabella didn’t answer. It seemed like everyone here was quick to say they were sorry, and yet none of them also seemed sorry enough to help her to leave.

She took a slow sip of her coffee, and it was of course the loveliest latte she had ever tasted.

Arabella squeezed her eyes shut.

Perfection everywhere she looked, perfection in everything she experienced or tasted – but should it be enough?

“Ms. Blume?”

“Yes, Nana?” She kept her gaze ahead as she took another sip of her coffee, fearing that if she saw pity on the other woman’s eyes, she would lose it and start bawling like a kid.

But oh, she was so tired and confused.

Help me, God.

And that was when she heard Nana say hesitantly, “You told me earlier that you were the practical type, mademoiselle. And with the island truly being inescapable – what is there for you to lose, to at least try and see if you could become the master’s friend so he would see things the way you do?”