The Fairest Beauty

There was no purpose in thinking up creative ways to kill the girl, as enjoyable as that would be. Now that it was time for Sophie to die, it would be done expediently.

 

“Take her into the woods. Tie her up and plunge a dagger into her heart. I don’t really care how you do it, just make sure it’s done without witnesses. Then bury her in the ground where no one can find her.” She poked him in the throat with her fingernail as she emphasized, “No one must find her.”

 

Lorencz’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes, Your Grace.”

 

She studied him, trying to see into his thoughts. She must have proof the girl was dead, but it had to be something no one else would recognize as belonging to Sophie. Duke Wilhelm would surely come digging around, and if he could find definitive proof of Gabe or the girl’s death, it would ruin everything.

 

She smiled at Lorencz and pressed all five fingernails of her right hand into his chest. “You will kill her … and you will bring back her heart … to me. If you fail me, you will die. Is that understood?”

 

“Yes, Your Grace.”

 

“You may go.” She raised her brows and flicked her wrist at him.

 

Lorencz bowed his head and left.

 

Once she had evidence of the girl’s demise in her hands, she would taunt Gabe with it. Seeing how he was infatuated with her, it would be the perfect mode of torture, outdoing anything she’d previously imagined. Once he was sufficiently broken, she would poison him and let him die a slow, agonizing death as he realized the fairest beauty in the Holy Roman Empire, the girl he’d written songs about, was dead. And Duchess Ermengard would remind him it was because he’d thought Sophie was more beautiful than she. It was all his fault. Because he’d come snooping around when he should have stayed home.

 

She walked over to the mirror on the wall and stared at herself. She imagined Sophie standing beside her. The girl was younger, her skin was smoother, her smile more sincere, her eyes larger and brighter. Then she imagined Sophie’s eyes closed in death, her skin growing dark gray, then falling away until there was nothing left but a skull.

 

She laughed. No one could love the girl if she was dead — not Lorencz, not the servants, not even Duke Baldewin.

 

Sophie would no longer be the fairest.

 

As soon as Gabe woke up, he knew where he was. The smell of human waste and the damp, cold stone against his body made it quite clear.

 

His head throbbed. He touched his cheek and looked at his hand. Only a little blood. He pressed on his swollen cheekbone gingerly. He didn’t think the bone was broken.

 

He groaned as he sat up, resting his head in his hands. How would he get out of this?

 

God, have I already ruined everything? I’ve barely been here a day and look at me.

 

His mother always said his lack of caution would lead to trouble. It seemed she was more right than she knew. Sophie had warned him as well, but he’d thought she was overstating the duchess’s dangerous nature and volatility. After all, what reason did that woman have to imprison him?

 

Cruelty. Jealousy. She didn’t need a reason. She was insane.

 

The worst thing was that he could no longer help Sophie. How would he rescue her now?

 

He thought of his mother again and felt a stab of guilt, thinking about how sick with worry she must be. God, please get me out of this.

 

He was the irresponsible son, the one who sneaked away with his friends when he was supposed to be studying. While Valten was practicing jousting and sword fighting, Gabe was pulling pranks on the old stable master, switching the horses in their stalls and painting white stars on all their foreheads. No wonder Valten’s gifts and standing so surpassed his own. God, forgive me for grieving my mother.

 

Guilt used to assault him every time his mother looked at him with concern — and sometimes disappointment — in her eyes. But he’d continued with his foolish behavior. The guilt hadn’t been enough to stop him.

 

He still remembered how devastated his mother had been when his sister Elsebeth drowned at three years old. They’d all been distraught, but his mother had cried for days without stopping. Her eyes, her whole face, became so puffy Gabe almost hadn’t recognized her. He’d been frightened by the depth of her grief, and he’d wondered if she would die too.

 

Dickerson, Melanie's books