Rudd blocked the other way. The only way to escape was to run the way she’d come, but that only led to the kitchens, to more darkness and further away from any one to help her. If there was to be help.
‘What is this?’
‘You know what it is. You do take me for a fool. I have to admit I had doubts when you handed me those coins for your cakes. But then these two men showed me the error of my ways. Showed me what more could be earned by having one such as you.’
She eyed the men, who held menacingly still. As if they were simply waiting for her to run. And she wanted to, but with her skin tightening up around her leg, she wouldn’t get very far.
The only choice she had was to talk her way out of this. Perhaps appeal to their greed. ‘I received that for the cakes, Rudd. Cakes I won’t make again if you go through with this. I swear upon your parents—’
‘Don’t you mention my parents. Don’t you ever talk about my parents again!’
Anger, fear. The men watching her changed stance like they could feel the trap they’d laid tightening on her. She could feel it, too.
Confusion entered her fear now. This seemed too personal. This was Rudd, the son who never visited, who returned only after their death to claim everything. The son the innkeepers spoke of once, his mother’s voice breaking in the middle of the tale before the father told her the rest. He was an awful man, and hadn’t cared for them. Yet he was angry now.
‘I can get you more.’ She gestured to the purse. ‘Make more cakes, make more money. Just don’t do this.’
‘Don’t do this?’ Rudd jingled the purse a bit. ‘It looks like you were already doing it. I’ll merely profit more than I thought today. These kind gentlemen offered money as well. Not as much as you were being paid by that knight, but a deal is a deal. And you do need to pay your debt to my parents.’
This was personal. ‘Debt?’
‘You don’t know?’ Rudd laughed. ‘All the better that I get to tell the tale. Get to see your ugly pious face as I break your heart.’
Rudd ran his eyes over her and his laugh turned ugly.
‘You think they kept you here with a roof over your head, feeding you because they cared for you? That you worked all hours of the day, slaved until your fingers bled because you loved them back?’
They’d told her they loved her. So much pain she had suffered at the time, so many tears with the guilt of failing her sister, her soul, failing her family. She didn’t love herself, but the innkeepers loved her. Of course, she worked for them until her fingers bled. She’d still do it.
‘Oh! I can see you do believe it. They bought you. Two ageing failing innkeepers needed cheap help. Although I don’t think you came cheap to them. I believe you owe more on your debt.’
‘I don’t owe a debt,’ Helissent said, her eyes on the men who stepped closer. Too close. She took a couple of steps in the opposite direction and saw how their smirks increased. How had they become involved? ‘Whatever these men told you, I owe no debt.’
‘Oh, you do.’ Rudd ran his finger down the right side of his face. ‘My parents fixed you.’ His mouth turned like he tasted something vile. ‘Such as it is, but it was the best money could buy in these parts.’
He spit between his teeth. ‘You think your possessions from the ashes of your home paid for that healer. No, it was my parents, who paid that healer with my inheritance.’
He reached back and pulled out of his breeches a small, heavily written-on parchment scrap. ‘I have the evidence all here. Accounts from the healer and my parents. All about your treatment, and care, and healing.
‘Oh, they were crafty, paying for your care. But I know better. I was born and raised by those people, and everything became clear when this parchment was read to me. My parents were wondering if their slave would be working for them soon.’
For a split moment, she believed his cruel words for truth, felt the pain in them, but it didn’t take away her sudden yearning and keen desperation. For in Rudd’s hands was more treasure than she’d thought she’d ever see. A parchment, a few written words from two people she’d dearly loved and would give anything to hear from again.
She had nothing left of her own family, but Anne and John had become her second family. Now there was something of theirs, something she could read, to hold in her hand, to hear their voices again.
As he noted her fixation on the parchment, Rudd’s eyes gleamed. Let him think he’d hurt her with the words and not with the denying of a scrap of paper. He could never know.
‘The way I see it, you owe me, girl. And there’s only one way a disgusting creature like you could pay me back.’
Two sets of hands clamped on to her arms. She cried out and kicked. Too late. Her eyes focused on the bit of parchment; she forgot the men.
‘Is she ours now?’ The one on her left sneered, his breath heavy with onions.
‘Such a price you paid, how could she not be yours?’ Rudd’s snake expression turned to her. ‘Can you imagine any man would pay a price to be between your legs? But these men paid plenty. They seem to like their women damaged. Your ugliness is lining my pockets.’
‘Never had a burned one before,’ Onion-breath said with glee. ‘Last one was crippled and remember the blind one?’
The man on her left closed his eyes like he savored that memory, and she yanked her arm to hide her revulsion.
‘Our agreement was I had her first.’ Rudd tossed the parchment behind him, his hands immediately at his belt.
‘I get the ugly half,’ Ale man breathed.
‘No, I get the ugly half,’ the other argued.
In her struggle, Helissent yanked the men several feet before they dug their heels into the mud. Terror, like ice shards, struck underneath her skin. It was going to happen. She couldn’t stop it.
Rudd laughed. ‘I don’t want any half except what’s down below. Just shove her face in the mud. I don’t want to see it for a moment before I get the skirts up and over her face.’
The men chortled, their manacled hands loosening. ‘No!’ She pulled her arms free and ran. Her heart pumped; she tasted the iron of blood in her mouth. As she feared, her right leg immediately dragged behind her. Pounding of feet on the cold dirt behind her, pain in her arms as the men grabbed and shoved her to the ground. The wet mud momentarily masking the taste of blood in her mouth.
More pain as a knee jammed into the small of her back. She threw her body to the left, kicked out, made some connection. Another hand on her ankle, yanking it to the side. Too far out, her legs were now widespread.
She screamed and tried to kick again. Grunts and harsh breath from the two men pinning her to the ground. She fought harder, a foot pounded into her ribs, a fist on to her cheek.
None of her struggles drowned out Rudd’s laughter as he strolled up to them. His hands were at his waist, loosening his belt knot.
Waves of sickness crashed over her. Her
