A week passed with many sleepless nights for Giuliana. She kept to her usual schedule and saw Alastair every afternoon for tea. He never came alone anymore, invariably dragging along a companion. One day the Crown Prince. Another day Lucas. She had a parade of noblemen and royalty in and out of her house. It did wonders for her reputation.
“It’s the Crown Prince’s birthday ball tonight,” Isolda reminded Giuliana just as the sun rose over the manor. Her mistress groaned and covered her head with a pillow.
“No thank you.”
“Not again, my lady.” She ripped the pillow off the bed and the covers, tossing them aside. “You look like death, so we have to start earlier today.”
“I don’t wanna.” She had only fallen asleep a couple hours ago. She didn’t want to spend an entire day prepping for the ball.
“Don’t start with me,” warned Isolda. She threw open the curtains, flooding the room with weak morning light. “Get up!”
Giuliana heaved her weary body from the bed. “Quit your harping, Isolda, I’m awake.” She rubbed at her eyes and yawned. “I’m sleeping for a week once this is all over.”
“Once what is over?”
She gestured vaguely. “Just all of... this.”
Isolda’s expression softened. “Don’t pay any mind to that horrid girl. She won’t win this time.” Giuliana hadn’t neither the energy nor the clear mind to even ask her maid what she meant. She shuffled through an open door to her sitting room. A pot of tea sat on the table with not a drop of other nourishment or even sugar or cream.
This really would be the worst day. She felt it in her bones. As long as she had that dagger strapped to her, she’d be fine.
The morning turned to afternoon when a note from Alastair arrived.
~
Dear Giuliana,
I have business that delays me, so I cannot escort you tonight. However, I will send a carriage to pick you up at the usual time. Save your first dance for me.
Alastair
~
Hmm. He had been busier as of late, so this was not a surprise. Still, his absence made her a scant sad. She had gotten used to his escort quicker than she expected. And now, she was alone once more. But, at least he planned to send a carriage for her.
By the time the sunset, Giuliana felt ready to collapse in a bustle gown of crimson taffeta. She tugged on a pair of ivory elbow-length gloves and secured a velvet choker around her neck.
“Only a few more hours,” she grumbled. “Then I can sleep and sleep and sleep.” She made her way into the entryway with five minutes to spare. The family butler, Reeves, hovered at the door with a cloak for her.
“My lady, the Duke’s carriage has arrived.”
“Thank you, Reeves. I’ll be on my way then.” Giuliana took her reticule from his hands. “I hope to be home early.”
Reeves bowed at the waist. “Have a good night, my lady.”
Outside, the Duke’s carriage with the Wytchwood emblem waited. The coachman sat with the reins in his hands, a hat pulled over his brow. There was a misting of rain in the air and she shivered despite her velvet cape. She wiped at her bleary eyes as the footman aided her into the carriage.
The Wytchwood carriage was far cosier than her father’s. There were always fur blankets and the comfiest pillows. It made her want to curl up on the seat and doze until they reached the ball. However, Giuliana, despite her exhaustion, was still a lady. Plus, Isolda had tight-laced her into her corset and laying on the bench was no longer an option.
Ugh.
She rested her head against the side of the carriage, relishing in the soft velvet upholstery. The gentle swaying of the carriage lulled her into a light slumber. Just a brief rest before she arrived at the ball.
The gentle carriage ride turned tortuous, jolting Giuliana awake. She gripped the bench of the carriage as it careened along the road. These were not the paved cobblestones of the city. No. They reminded her more of the dirt paths that led up to her father’s country seat.
Giuliana let out an annoyed groan. This was her own fault. She dropped her guard because of her sleepiness. It had been months since the last abduction attempt. She usually ferreted them out. Now look at her, rolling toward an unknown path in a ballgown.
Stupid.
She pulled open the curtains on the carriage window. It was black outside, darker than any night she witnessed. Very ominous.
Giuliana tried the handle. It did not budge. Of course. This was so very typical of her life.
Who could it be this time? She wanted to blame Ms. Dunstan, but that was presumptuous. She was more likely to use underhanded tactics, not an outright abduction. To what dreary house were they going to take her? Some rickety shack in the middle of nowhere where no one would hear their cries.
They’d expect her to snivel and beg, snot and tears streaming down her face. Giuliana smirked in the carriage’s darkness. Lady Giuliana Crane did not beg. She would make them beg.
Giuliana lifted her voluminous skirts and pulled out her dagger. She fingered the blade, pleased she sharpened it just the other day. Good. Tucking it into its sheath, she shoved it into her bodice.
Then, she bided her time. Eventually, the time passed, and the night turned deeper and the carriage stopped in complete silence. There were no crickets or birds or any creature out in this night.
Even better for her.
Giuliana summoned a few tears to roll down her cheeks, hoping she looked distressed. The door of the carriage wrenched open and a pair of arms reached in to yank her out.
She screeched like a banshee in the man’s ears. “H-How dare you! Who are you! Do you know who I am?”
“The Duke of Wytchwood’s half-breed bitch,” growled out her captor, spitting on her. Giuliana turned her head away. Wow. It had been ages since she heard that particular slur.
“Well, I never!” She struggled against his grip, continuing to scream and holler into the void. Her captor cursed her relentlessly as she struggled. She felt his grip loosen a fraction, and she maneuvered away from him, cape tearing in the process.
“Hey now! Don’t make this harder on yourself. We’ll be gentle if you’re nice,” he promised.
A few other men crept from the shadows, faces twisted into leers. “We’ve never had a woman from Rasna before.”
This was new. Despite the multiple attempts, no one’s goal had been to ravish her. She had to work quickly then. She pulled the dagger from its resting place and the men just laughed and laughed like she was a joke.
“Who hired you?”
“It’s not for the likes of you to know.”
“I will ask one more time,” she said, the tremble from her voice replaced with steel. “Who. Hired. You.”
Their answering laughter mocked her. “And what are you going to do about it?”
“Yeah! That dagger can’t kill all of us.”
With a single practiced motion, she pulled off her evening glove and dragged the blade across her palm. The blood dripped down to the dirt as an incantation dripped from her lips.
“Resurgas, my pretties. Come join me in the world above.”
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