Page 105 of House of Roots and Ruin
“You won’t get away with it,” she promised. “She’s going to find out everything.”
“Find out what?” I asked before crashing into something suddenly in front of me. Dazzling stars burst across my vision and my head spun.
“Stay away from me,” Constance hissed. “Get back.”
For a moment, I thought she had struck me, but then I felt a new brick wall. The passage must have come to a split. To my left I saw a faint glow of candlelight, limning the surface of the tunnel a dull gray. Constance was between the light and me, her wavering silhouette filling up the tight space.
“Stop it.”
She raised her hands in a defensive posture, backing away from me.
“Put those down,” she ordered. “You won’t hurt me. You can’t. They won’t live without me.”
Constance fell back with pained surprise, struggling against the unseen assailant. She clutched at her chest, a spot of red blooming across her bodice. She was struck again, her cries low and guttural.
“No. No, please. I didn’t mean it. I won’t…I promise—”
Her boots scuffled against the floor, thrashing and kicking. There was a moment I thought she might be able to escape the attack, but then she floundered, falling over. Her head struck the wall. She clutched at her neck and wet, rattling gasps filled the passage.
“No!” she screamed once, and I recognized the anguish and despair. It was the scream I’d heard in the kitchen.
Then she flickered out, gone.
I stood in frozen horror, unable to look away from the spot she’d just been.
Constance had been murdered, here in this very corridor.
But by who?
She’d indicated she and Gerard had had a falling-out. Had it become physical? He had his faults—many, many faults—but I couldn’t picture him taking a life. His hands created, fashioning growth out of nothing but soil and seeds.
It couldn’t have been him.
I pictured Dauphine’s expression the day after my engagement, when we’d talked about hiring a servant for me, when she’d flatly explained there were no maids in her house. She’d known then that Gerard had brought in another mistress. Had she discovered Constance’s whereabouts and gone after the girl?
I cringed, picturing a twisted, jealous glint in Dauphine’s eyes.
Yes. I could see all that play out again, with her at the helm.
The tunnel seemed suddenly darker and I could feel the weight of all of the stones and shadows around me. I imagined a deep rumble, the bricks shifting loose as the house shuddered. Everything would come collapsing down on me. I would be swallowed alive, trapped forever in the ruins of Chauntilalie.
I needed to get out of here. I needed to escape this darkness.
I fled down the corridor, chasing after the promise of candlelight.
I crashed through the partially open door, blinking in surprise at the unexpectedly cheerful surroundings.
Where was I?
Feeling ill, I turned about in a slow circle, taking in every detail with dull incomprehension.
It was a playroom.
The walls were painted a rich blue, like the night sky, with foiled stars pressed in deep.
A trio of rocking horses lined one wall, as if at the start of a race. Their painted eyes were wide and their mouths peeled back into grimaces around wooden bits. For a moment, I could almost hear their whinnies.
There were stuffed bears, rattles, and blocks.
