Self Sacrifice. Anya Summers

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СКАЧАТЬ “I cannot breathe.”

      “You don’t need to breathe, you twit. You need to impress your future husband.” Elizabeth stepped back and frowned. “I suppose it will have to do, but you must remember to forgo the sweets this month, or you will not be able to fit into the wedding dress that is being made.”

      “You could always let it out,” Leticia said. “Or let me wear it. Since we are pulling the wool over his eyes, what does it matter which one of us weds him?”

      Elizabeth wheeled on her daughter. “Leora is the oldest, and therefore will wed first.”

      “Is she? I thought Syndra was the oldest.” Leticia turned her gaze to her stepsister, who stood nearby with her eyes lowered. “Of course she would need a bath. And some new clothes.”

      “And you would do well to keep your mouth shut, as would Syndra,” Elizabeth admonished. “She is not a member of this family, is she?”

      Leticia opened her mouth as if to object, then closed it quickly and shook her head. “No, Mama.”

      Syndra kept her defiant gaze on the ground. When her stepmother called her name, she gave her what she hoped was a contrite look.

      “Answer me.”

      “I am sorry; I did not hear the question.”

      “Pay attention, you stupid girl. I said, you know what is at stake, do you not?”

      “How could I forget?” Indeed, how could anyone forget? Her stepmother had told the entire household that Syndra’s friend, Alma, would die if anyone let on that Syndra, and not Leora, was really the firstborn daughter of Mardoon.

      “You will make yourself useful by cleaning and by keeping quiet.” She turned back to Leora. “You, go downstairs and greet your new lord when he comes inside the keep. Make sure to appear submissive and meek. Understand?”

      “Yes, Mother. I just hope he is handsome.” Elizabeth snorted. “I just hope he is stupid. Now go.” Leora and Leticia quickly quit the room, and Elizabeth turned to Syndra. “You should be happy I am saving you from a life of bowing to a man.”

      “Why, so I can bow to you instead?”

      “Watch your tongue.” Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “As I have told you, your shape is not pleasing to a man. You hold too many pounds hostage on your body. Leora will keep our new lord happy, and with any luck, I will keep him under my thumb.”

      Syndra waited for her stepmother to keep talking, but she did not. She again cursed her father, though she loved him, for leaving her in this position. When he had fallen ill, he had promised her he would see she was cared for, and would not have to stay with Elizabeth, whom he knew loathed his daughter.

      Syndra had hoped that meant he had arranged a marriage, or left her some monies or jewels. Elizabeth had torn the house apart looking for anything of value, and nothing had been found. Syndra knew her father would have kept his word and she had searched as well, to no avail, for the key to end her misery.

      Her father had been dead for eight months now, and she had yet to unravel the situation he had left her in when he passed. Part of her wondered if she ever would find anything, or if she were destined to live out her life under the control of a woman who hated her.

      When they had received word from the king that he was sending a husband for Syndra, she had been ecstatic—until Elizabeth had slapped her and said Leora would marry the king’s choice, not Syndra.

      “No daughter of mine will be put behind you.” The look of pure hatred on her face still made Syndra shiver. “You will end your life as someone’s whore, but you will never be the mistress of this keep. Never.”

      Syndra had cried heartily that night, burying her head in Alma’s shoulders as they slept in the rushes. The next morning, burly friends of Elizabeth’s current bedmate had taken Alma away, and she had not seen her friend since. She had no doubt her stepmother would kill Alma if Syndra misbehaved in any way.

      Noise drifted up from the courtyard, and Syndra looked toward the window.

      “Stay up here,” Elizabeth ordered. “And remember, if you see the new lord, to keep your eyes downcast and your mouth shut.”

      She swept from the room and Syndra hurried to the opening, leaning over to watch the proceedings three floors down. There were more than two-dozen men in the courtyard now, all of them milling about and studying the landscape. Two men stood toward the front, talking with Leora, and Syndra knew one of them would be the new lord of Mardoon.

      Both of them looked to be large, handsome men. One had dark, shoulder-length hair and massive shoulders. Even from her vantage point, Syndra could tell he was taller than any man she’d ever seen. The other man’s body looked as massive, but he stood a few inches shorter and had lighter, ginger-colored hair.

      She fought the need to rush downstairs, to throw herself at their feet and confess all. Only the thought of Alma, locked away somewhere with the threat of death hanging over her head, kept her rooted in place. Elizabeth knew beating Syndra would not produce the results she wanted. She knew Syndra was too strong-willed for that. So, she’d attacked her from a different angle. By putting those she loved in peril.

      “Alma,” Syndra whispered, then closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that her friend was at least being fed and given a bit of sunshine every day. When she was done, she opened her eyes and watched as Elizabeth rushed into the scene, dropped into a deep curtsy and took the hand of the dark-haired man.

      That would mean he was the new lord, and therefore had dominion over Elizabeth. Syndra smiled at the submissive position Elizabeth was in. It was good for the witch to bow down to someone, to be beholden and answerable for her actions. And while Elizabeth and her daughters were busy with the new lord, Syndra could continue her search, and hopefully find a way out from under Elizabeth’s authority.

      “Not too bad,” Patrick whispered to Keran as they made their way inside the keep. “You will not have to keep your eyes closed when you bed her.”

      Keran snorted and nodded. Indeed, the woman who had been presented as his bride was pretty enough. Her mother was a shrew, though, that much was certain. Keran could almost imagine her as a snake, slithering on the ground, and causing panic wherever she went. He had to find some way to subtly let her know that he was in charge now, not her.

      Her docile curtsey did not fool him in the least. He’d met women like her before, wanting to appear meek, but seeking to control their men. It wouldn’t happen here. The sooner she figured that out, the better.

      Inside the great hall, he stopped and examined his new holding.

      “We have some rooms for your men in the main house, of course,” Elizabeth said. “But perhaps some of the outlying houses would—”

      “Perhaps you should let me worry about that, after we have had a chance to catch our breath. We would like some food, and a little bit of comfort away from the elements.”

      “Of course, my lord.” Elizabeth curtsied again, but Keran did not miss the scowl on her face. He knew his arrow had hit home, and was not welcomed.

      “Leora, fetch СКАЧАТЬ