Stolen Life, Broken Vows

In a gazebo surrounded by lush greenery and fragrant flowers, birdsong mingled with the tinkling of fine china and voices engaged in polite conversation. Dressed in a simple but well-tailored suit, an older gentleman sat at the head of the table. Likewise, his wife at the other end was modest yet dignified in her gown of rich burgundy. In the seats between them were their children: a young man whose accessorized coat was considered fashionable for the times, a teenage girl whose brightly colored dress still only fell below her knees, and the eldest—a woman whose light pink off-shoulder gown made her a vision, matching as it did the faint blush of color on her skin. Though the family had already started drinking tea, their party was not yet complete. They were waiting for another gentleman—one who would soon become a new member of their family. “I still can’t believe this is happening!” gushed the youngest child. Despite her genuine excitement, the upbringing they all shared meant she expressed it in a refined manner. “Now when I make my debut, everyone will know me as the Grand Duke’s sister-in-law!” “What is wrong with simply being known as Count Auberon’s daughter?” their father asked in a serious tone. However, the soft crinkling of his eyes showed that he was only teasing. The teen girl pouted. “But Father,” she replied just as seriously, “you are no dashing war hero.” Amid the good-humored chuckles and the Countess’ half-hearted admonition of her younger daughter, the older one quietly sipped tea as she let the conversation wash over her. Seated to her father’s left, she glanced at the still-vacant chair opposite her before looking away. As the others continued talking about the man who would soon be occupying that seat, they were oblivious to the thoughts running through the mind of the woman who—though appearing almost uninterested due to how calm she looked—was truly anything but under the surface. After all, these people treating her as their daughter and sister, she didn’t know any of them. This wasn’t her family. This wasn’t her body. This wasn’t even her world. And that man… she thought as someone in the distance entered her field of vision. The guest they were waiting for had finally arrived. Tall and dark-haired, he wore an elegantly cut suit that drew attention to his battle-hardened physique. Despite his muscular bulk, he moved with a fluid grace that brought to mind a feline hunter stalking its prey. And though his aristocratic polish might appear perfect, those who knew better could still sense an air of savagery around him that couldn’t be fully disguised. The moment he appeared at the far end of the path leading to the gazebo, everyone else fell silent. Then, as if on cue, they all rose to their feet. When he drew close enough, the ladies curtseyed and the gentlemen—even the much older Count—gave a deferential bow. They were, after all, welcoming into their presence Lord Taran Blackwood, the Grand Duke of Astor. They had to give him his due. With her head lowered as she listened to his footsteps getting closer, the woman this person was supposed to marry continued, That man is not ‘my’ fiancé. … … … It was two days ago when she first woke up to this bizarre situation. She didn’t even remember falling asleep the night before, but when she opened her eyes, she found herself in an unfamiliar room. To call it a “bedroom” would have been an understatement. The massive four-poster bed made of solid wood didn’t occupy even a quarter of the available space. Past the bed’s thick curtains that shielded her from the early morning sun, she could see one wall lined with windows and the other decorated with paintings. In the center of the room were various antique-style furniture, and the far end seemed to be the dressing and grooming area. She’d never stayed in a hotel room that looked like this, let alone a person’s actual residence. Where in the world was this place, and how on earth did she get here? As she pondered those questions, she slowly got off the bed. The last thing she remembered was working late in her lab as usual. She hadn’t been getting enough sleep these past few days, so it’s possible that she simply crashed without realizing it. Though she’d been alone at the time, she could imagine being found unconscious later by someone else. Depending on who that someone was, the possibilities ranged from her being pranked right now to her being held prisoner here after getting drugged and kidn*pped. Either way, she thought as she strode to the door. The long nightgown someone else must have put on her swished and clung to her body, which had nothing else on. Whoever did this to me is a damn creep. Upon reaching the door, she raised a hand to the handle to see if it would open. It swung outward before she could even touch it, making her gasp and step back. Just as her body was getting ready for a fight response, she saw that the person entering was a small young woman. She frowned and thought, Is this a hotel, after all? But why is such a young girl wearing a maid’s outfit? She even has a cart. Having failed to notice her before, the young maid also gasped when she saw her blocking the path of the ornate cart. “F-forgive me, my lady!” the maid said while hurriedly giving her a curtsey. “I didn’t know you were already awake!” Taken aback for multiple reasons, she blinked in mounting confusion. What is going on…? she thought. She could have sworn the girl had just spoken in some foreign language, but how could that be when she was able to understand her perfectly? Did I really get drugged? Am I in one of those hidden camera pranks? Deciding it would be best to just ask, she opened her mouth to speak. “What is…?” She froze. This was the first time she had heard herself speak since she woke up, so it was also the first time she was realizing—something more terrible than being held captive was going on right now. My voice… she thought, noting as she shakily touched her throat that her mental voice was still the same one she’d been hearing her entire life. Why does my speaking voice sound so different? And what language did I just speak? “My lady…?” the maid said, allowing her to confirm she was speaking a different language that was somehow intelligible to her. The girl looked almost as confused and frightened as she felt. “I-If you want, I can come back later so you can rest some more…” Seeing the maid retreating, she pushed past her rioting emotions and blurted, “I can get out, right?” By that, of course, she meant “get out of here.” For whatever reason, the maid seemed to have misunderstood her. “Of course, my lady,” she replied. It appeared she was so baffled by the question that she forgot about her own fear for the moment. “Whenever you wish to get ready to go out, please ring for me.” With another hurried curtsey, the maid closed the door for her and left. Alone once again, she told herself to remain calm and think rationally about whatever was going on. For the moment, she wanted to avoid running into anyone else, so she crossed the room towards one of the French windows instead. Like the door, it too wasn’t locked, and though it was still pretty high up, she saw upon stepping out onto the balcony that this room was only on the second floor. If she tried, she could easily escape. It really didn’t seem like she was being held prisoner here. Hugging herself over her thinly clothed chest, which felt oddly fuller, she swept her gaze over the expansive and well-manicured garden—the kind seen in the palaces and estates of the ultra-rich. No matter which way she looked at it, this had to be a place where “old money” people lived. This was not a place where just anyone could casually bring her to. Then again, she thought in growing fear. If they can drug me into having some sort of auditory trip, getting access to this place is probably nothing to them. As she stepped back into the room, wondering if she knew anyone rich enough and crazy enough to do something this outrageous, she caught a clear reflection on the angled glass of the window. Her breath hitched in her throat at what she saw.