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Chapter One

Brittany 1485

I bear a deep red stain that runs froht hip, a trail left by the herbwitch’s poison that my mother used to try to expelto the herbwitch, is no od of death himself

I ae and raised his hand tobed Until the herbwitch pointed out to hiod of death, surely He would not stand idly by while my father beat her

I risk a glance up at my husband-to-be, Guillo, and wonder ifnot, for ould pay three silver coins for what I am? Besides, Guillo looks far too placid to know of my true nature If my father has tricked hi e rather than a church further adds to my unease

I feel aze upon htens me, for if he has triumphed, then I have surely lost in so to convince hi that upsets him more than my happiness

But while I can easily lie to my father, it is harder to lie to myself I a I look down at his big, wide hands Just like ernails and stains in the creases of his skin will the semblance end there? Or will he, too, wield those hands like a cudgel?

It is a new beginning, I remind uish a tiny spark of hope Guillo wants h to pay three silver coins Surely where there is want, there is roo that keepsThat and the priest who has coe priest, the furtive glance he sends me over his prayer book causes me to believe he knoho and what I am

As he h hempen prayer cord with the nine wooden beads that proclaim him a follower of the old ways even when he ties the cord around our hands and lays the blessings of God and the nine old saints upon our union, I keep ness in ht reveal

When the priest is done, he pads away on dirty feet, his rough leather sandals flapping noisily He does not even pause long enough to raise a tankard to our union Nor doescart has settled, runts toward the upstairs loft

I clenchand cross to the rickety stairs while Guillo fortifies himself with one last tankard of ale, I climb up to the loft and the bed I will now share with hih she was afraid of iven ht But both she and o, one back into the ar tinker

I know, of course, what goes on between a e is sent e The next day htly less bad tempered, and my mother more so I try to convince e bed is, surely it cannot be any worse than my father’s raw temper and meaty fists

The loft is a close, h shutters on the far wall have never been opened A timber and rope bed frame holds a s to hang clothes on and a plain chest at the foot of the bed

I sit on the edge of the chest and wait It does not take long A heavy creak from the stairs warns me that Guillo is on his way My ive hiht, I stand

When he reaches the rooish eyes gorge the from the top of my head down to my ankles, then back up to ht has worked, as Guillo can look at little else He gestures with his tankard towardale over the sides so that it dribbles to the floor “Remove it ” Desire thickens his voice

I stare at the wall behind hi as I raise theh He takes three giant strides toward me and strikes me hard across the cheek “Now!” he roars as my head snaps back

Bile rises in my throat and I fear I will be sick So this is hoill be between us This is why he illing to pay three silver coins

My laces are finally undone, and I remove my bodice so that I stand before him in my skirt and shift The stale air, which only ainst my skin

“Your skirt,” he barks, breathing heavily

I untie the strings and step out of my skirt As I turn to lay it on the nearby bench, Guillo reaches for e and stupid, but I a es

I jerk away, spinning out of his reach, infuriating hi only to hold off the inevitable a little longer

There is a loud crash as his half-e a shower of ale into the roo inside me will not — cannot — make this easy for him I leap out of his reach

But not far enough I feel a tug, then hear a rip of cloth as he tears my thin, worn chemise

Silence fills the loft — a silence so thick with shock that even his coarse breathing has stopped I feel his eyes rake down ly red welts and scars the poison left behind I look over one white as new cheese, his eyes wide when our glances meet, he knows — knows— that he has been duped He bellows then, a long, deep note of rage that holds equal parts fury and fear

Then his rough hand cracks againstis worse than his fists and boots

When Guillo’s rage is spent, he reaches down and grabs o for a real priest this tis ainst each one He continues dragging h the kitchen, then shoves me into a small root cellar, slams the door, and locks it

Bruised and possibly broken, I lie on the floor with my battered cheek pressed into the cool dirt Unable to stop myself, I smile

I have avoided the fate my father had planned for me Surely it is I who has won, not he

The sound of the bolt lifting jerksposition and clutch the tattered remains of my chemise around e priest, the sae only hours before Guillo is not with him, and any moment that does not contain

The priest looks over his shoulder, then motions for me to follow

I rise to my feet, and the root cellar spins dizzily I put a hand to the wall and wait for the feeling to pass The priest ently "We’ve not much time before he returns ”