Page 104 of Stolen Princess

“That’s a lie.” I take another step back but bump into the edge of the bed, which throws me off. I trip, stumble back, and fall to the floor.

Antonia makes a noise like I’m a disappointment. In a flash, she’s on me and pins me to the ground. I don’t have time to react. Hell, I’m not sure I can with the drugs still swimming through me.

“No! Stop. Don’t do this. Please don’t do this!” I cry.

“Hush. Stop fighting me.”

Like hell. I scream and thrash with everything I’ve got, but it’s no use. I’m weak, and she’s strong, and she has me pinned to the ground by my wrists, her weight pressing down on me, rendering me immobile. The other woman has a sadistic smile on her face, more than a little pleased by what’s happening.

“I know who you are!” I bark at her. “You’re the dowager queen. Once they find out it’s you⁠—”

My words cut into a cry as she bends and jabs a needle into my shoulder. A burning sensation swarms through me as she pushes drugs into me.

Once she’s done, the queen stands over me with an evil glint. “Desta, the thing about telling anyone is not only will you not remember anything from the drugs we’re giving you, but you’ll be dead. The dead can’t tell secrets.”

“No!”

Antonia holds me down, and slowly my mind grows fuzzy. Darker. Then black once again.

My eyes are dry and crusty. Same with my mouth. I feel like I swallowed sand. My head hurts. My body aches. My stomach rolls, and for a minute, I don’t move. I’m not sure I can yet. My mouth tastes awful. Like my tongue is coated in acid and my teeth in a layer of grime. Vomit. My mouth tastes like actual vomit. But why? I don’t remember throwing up. Everything is heavy and so… off. I can’t remember...

I blink, focusing on the ceiling above me. My ceiling. The bed beneath me is soft and familiar. I’m at the cottage. How did I get here?

The last thing I remember is… Ferrin. Oh my god, Ferrin is dead. He was floating in the water, and Sven was chasing me. I hiccup out a sob and twist my face to the side. Pain slices through me, sharp and unforgiving. It’s my fault. All of it is.

He’s gone and I…

I told him I hated him. That I never wanted to see him again. I didn’t mean it. Oh god, I didn’t mean it. I was mad and felt betrayed. I didn’t want last night to be it. I wanted more time with him. I wanted possibility. Potential. Now it’s too late.

After that… nothing. Why can’t I remember anything after that? It’s maddening. My arm is sore, and I glance down to find two purple bruises on my bicep. He gave me something. More than once, by the look of it. Then brought me here.

But why?

Or did he meet up with my mother as he was originally supposed to? That has to be it. She’d never let him know about this place.

Slowly, I peel myself up, my limbs shaky. I glance around my room, but it spins, and I plant my hands into the mattress beside me. It’s exactly as I left it, and my insides plummet. I don’t want to be here. I want to be off somewhere with Ferrin. I want to be back at our beach sleeping beneath the stars, wrapped up in everything that’s him.

Tears scald my eyes, and I press the heel of my palm into them, trying to stop them. I feel awful. Like I’ve been ripped apart from the inside out. He tried to save me and died for it.

My hands drop to my sides, and I let the tears go. They continue in a freefall.

I allow myself this grief. I let it consume me. I let the memories trickle through my head, one after the other. Maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe he was only after the money.

But I had it, and to me it was real, and that’s what matters. That’s what I’ll keep.

It’s only now that I realize I’m in different clothes than I was in at the festival. I’m in a tank top and shorts. But my hands are filthy, as are my legs. She changed me but didn’t clean me up. Or did Sven change me? Did he rape me too? Isn’t that what he said he was going to do before he shot Ferrin?

The thought sickens me.

I can’t stay here.

Not with all that I know. I can’t go back to the life I had before.

She hired Lars and Sven. She had Sven kill Ferrin. I have to get out of here.

A noise from downstairs prickles my ears, and I force myself out of bed. Something tickles the recesses of my mind, but… fuck, I can’t remember. Goddammit!

Frustration slams through me. I reach the door and lean against it, and I’m hit with a wave of déjà vu with no home. No foundation. It’s only a feeling cloaked in darkness.