The House of the Stone

A bigger piece of my dress is cut away. Practically my whole leg is exposed.


“Yes,” I gasp. Goose bumps blossom on my skin.

“Yes what?” the Countess asks with a sly smile.

“I’ll eat what you tell me to eat.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Emile bite his lip.

“Good.” She turns to Emile and the Regimentals. “Get out.”

I may have some issues with Emile, but I do not want to be left alone with this woman.

I almost cry out for him as he leaves. But something tells me that if I want to see him again, the Countess cannot know that I like him. So I grit my teeth, swallow, and force myself to meet her eyes.

The Countess walks to the wall and fingers each instrument, every link in every chain, the length of rope, the different-size rods. When she gets to the helmet, she literally claps her hands to her chest, like she’s just received the best Longest Night gift ever.

“Oh, Frederic,” she murmurs. “You really have outdone yourself.”

She walks toward me, her nose wrinkling, maybe at the way I smell—having slept on a stone floor—or my smudged makeup or my wrinkled, ruined dress. She gets so close that I can see every fold and dimple of flesh. Her fingers are like sausages. Her arms are pale and flabby. She practically has a wattle on her neck.

“You are going to bear my child,” she says.

I flare my nostrils and glare at her. It’s all I can do.

She smiles. There’s a dimple in one cheek, which gives her a mocking impression of sweetness. “You never can tell at the Auction what a surrogate will be like. Some years I have been terribly disappointed. But I saw you and I just knew. Especially after that little show at dinner last night. I hope I have just showed you how serious I am about playing by the rules.”

“I only took three bites,” I insist.

She smirks. “Yes, you did. As you might have noticed, you still have your tongue. But I did not appreciate your attitude. Didn’t you like that nice hot shower yesterday? Wouldn’t you like more showers like that? Wouldn’t you like a soft bed to sleep on?”

I don’t answer, because I don’t want to admit that I would.

There is a gleam in the Countess’s eyes that makes my stomach crawl. They travel up and down my body slowly, resting for an uncomfortably long moment on my stomach. “You are so thin,” she says. “But I think we can make you thinner. My mother always said, an accomplishment without struggle is no accomplishment at all.”

The Countess grabs my face in one giant hand, her fingers digging into my cheeks so hard my skin starts to cut against my teeth. She forces my head back again, holding my forehead with her other hand so that my jaw is wrenched open. I don’t know what she’s looking at in my mouth, but with every ounce of strength I have I yank my head to the side and sink my teeth into her thumb.

She yowls and I delight in the sound for half a breath before my head slams into the wall behind me. Sparks explode in front of my eyes, the taste of blood filling my mouth.

“Frederic!” she screeches.

The door flies open as Frederic hurries into the room. “My lady, what has happened?”

“It bit me, Frederic,” the Countess says, pouting like a little girl, but with a gleam in her eyes. I have an uneasy sense that she’s enjoying this. Frederic makes a tutting sound as he examines her hand.

“Don’t you worry, my lady,” he says. He takes out a bottle of the same ointment Emile used on my foot and applies a small amount. The cut vanishes. Frederic kisses her hand. “All better.”

“Thank you, my sweet,” the Countess says.

“Shall we punish it?” Frederic asks.

I wrap my arms across my chest, as if that would somehow protect me. The manacles clang against the chains binding me.

The Countess pretends to think for a moment, but I am spared her answer by Emile rushing back into the room.