Page 44 of The Pureblood Princess
And the last thing she sees is blue eyes.
Chapter Eighteen
It’s cold.
The chill air nips at her face, and as she shifts on an uncomfortable mattress, a rough-hewn blanket scratches her skin.
A moment later, she remembers: the wine, the carriage, the man with blue eyes.
Nadia’s heart pounds as she sits up suddenly in the unfamiliar bed, her breath forming visible puffs in the icy air. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light provided by a sole candle flickering in a rusted candlestick. The sparse furnishings, lack of windows, and oppressive cold send shivers down her spine.
Theodore?she calls out, but unlike usual, he doesn’t respond.
Before she can wrap her mind around her situation, the heavy oak door creaks open, and a tall, imposing figure steps into the chamber.
Lord Kazamir’s gaze fixes upon her, and it takes everything in her not to press herself against the brick wall and cower from him.
“Miss Magdalena, you’ve finally awoken.” He advances, taking up space in the small chamber. “I do hope you find your accommodations to your liking.” He gestures to the dark room, his crisp overcoat rustling with his movements.
“What is the meaning of this?” Nadia asks, failing to keep a tremble from her voice as she draws the scratchy blanket closer, trying to keep herself covered. “Why have you brought me here?”
Lord Kazamir takes a step closer, his blue eyes locked onto hers. “I do apologize for the... theatrics. A necessary evil, I’m afraid.”
Nadia says nothing, her eyes narrowing.
“I have a proposal for you,” he continues. “One that will settle all this... unpleasantness.” He speaks nonchalantly, as if they’re discussing whether to go to the theater or promenade about the park. “You will call off your impending wedding to Viscount Rosetti and instead marry my eldest son, Marek. Then you can leave this place and join our family in Kensington.”
The mention of Marek, with his cold blue eyes and disinterested air, makes her stomach clench. Her heart beats more rapidly, but she strives to maintain her composure.
“Why would I ever agree to such a thing?”
Lord Kazamir pulls out the chair tucked beneath the small desk and takes a seat. “The viscount was promised to my daughter long before he met you, Miss Magdalena. If you love him, as you claim, you’ll ensure he upholds his end of our deal. A gentleman shouldn’t go back on his word.”
Honora’s face flashes into Nadia’s mind, and she fails to keep the memory of that nightmare from rising to the forefront. It makes her nauseated, and she swallows her disgust quickly down. “And if I refuse?”
Lord Kazamir’s lips turn down into a scowl. “I thought you were wiser than this, Miss Magdalena. You must know you have very little choice in this matter. My offer was the extending of an olive branch. But if you choose to decline...” Sighing, he stands and shakes his head. “Well, I can’t say it will be pleasant for you.”
“It’s alreadyunpleasantfor me.” Nadia clenches her fists around the rough fabric of the blanket, fear and anger warringwithin her. “You can’t force me into this. I love Theodore, and nothing you do will change that.”
Her admission of love startles her. It rolled so easily off her tongue, and every syllable felt true. Why, then, has she not told Theodore the same thing, not whispered it into his ear and against his mouth?
Is it too late now?
Lord Kazamir chuckles, though the sound is without humor. “Love is a fickle thing—here one moment, gone the next. You may claim to love the viscount now, but it will not last.” He adjusts his overcoat and takes a slight step back. “I suggest you consider our proposal carefully. Marek can offer you wealth, power, and a life of comfort. Love has no place in an advantageous marriage. And besides...” Lord Kazamir looks around the dingy space again. “The alternative is staying here. Either way, you’ll not be returning to Theodore Rosetti.”
Defiance flares in Nadia’s chest, and she narrows her eyes. “You underestimate him. He’ll come for me.”
Lord Kazamir’s response is a subtle smile. “I fear your hope lies misplaced.” He brushes imaginary lint off his sleeves. “You wrote your dear viscount a letter telling him you’d changed your mind. In fact, you’re not so sure you ever loved him in the first place. And with that letter in hand, it’s unlikely he’ll even consider searching for you.”
A letter? She wrote no letter. What is he—
The courier. The letters.
Nadia’s eyes widen in disbelief, a chill coursing through her. “What have you done?”
Lord Kazamir straightens up and runs a hand casually over his pale beard. “Consider my offer, Miss Magdalena. It’s the only one you’re going to get.”
With a sickeningly jovial smile, he turns for the door. Nadia sits there, speechless, as it slams behind him, and her stomach twists at the sound of a lock falling into place on the other side.
