Page 67 of A Curse of Hope and Shadows: Part I
She gave him a short bob, and hurried out the room.
Dimitri turned to Thomas. “Shall we?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
They walked down together, to the dungeons beneath the shining corridors and marble floors. Not many stately homes had dungeons, but two hundred years ago, there had been a peasants’ revolt, and one of his ancestors had refurbished several of the cellars as holding cells and torture chambers, never imagining that one of her descendants would be chained there every night of the full moon.
Some years ago, Minty had had one of the cells wallpapered, bringing soft furnishings into the corridors, as if trying to brighten the place up. The damp and rot had got to most of it now, but not before he’d shredded most of it to ribbons. The smell of cold and rust crawled into his nostrils as they descended, but worse was the coppery odor underneath, the metallic tang of blood etched into the stone.
His own blood. Or the monster’s. He was never really sure.
Thomas opened up the cell at the furthest end and held it open for him. “Chains or no chains?” he asked, as nonchalantly as if he were offering him wine.
Dimitri’s stomach coiled in tight, tiny spirals, eyeing the holes in the room where he’d wrenched them free in the past. He’d yet to break the cast iron bars his father had had reinstalled when he was thirteen, after he broke the initial ones, but there was always a risk. The chains tended to make the monster angrier, and if he got free, that was when he did the worst damage to himself.
“No chains,” he said.
Thomas nodded, and poured him the usual tonic from the cabinet outside the cell. Minty insisted upon it. It was supposed to dull pain, or sedate him, but he’d never noticed much of a difference. He was just worried about what it would feel like without it.
He took the tonic and necked it back. It tasted like overcooked cabbage.
“Foul, as always,” he said, handing back the goblet. Thomas topped it up with a stiff whiskey and gave it back, closing the door behind him. “Thank you.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thomas smile as he locked and chained the doors.
“What is it?”
“You say thank you a lot more lately, have you noticed?”
Dimitri’s jaw tense. “I know. I’ve been trying.”
“Adeline’s had quite the effect on you.”
Dimitri groaned, setting the whiskey aside to start undressing. He didn’t want to look at the time, didn’t want to count it down. “We’re not talking about Adeline.”
“Apologies, Young Master, I thought it might distract you.”
He almost smiled. “She does have that effect, it’s true.”
“You like her, then?”
“She’s very likeable.” Dimitri passed his clothes through the bars of his cage, which Thomas diligently folded. They had never really spoken in this time before. He wasn’t sure it was an improvement. “You’re not thinking of courting her, are you?”
“I understand the appeal, My Lord, but no.”
“Good.”
Thomas raised a faintly amused eyebrow.
“I mean, I’d just hate to have her distracted. Good staff are hard to come by.”
“I’ll try not to take that personally, My Lord.”
“You’re teasing me.”
“It seems to work for Adeline. More whiskey?”
Dimitri swallowed the remains of his goblet. “Please.”
