By nightfall, Emilia's name rang through the walls of the palace; the workers in the fields, the guards, the soldiers, and everyone knew had heard the story in various versions. Madam Phineas excused her from dinner preparations because of her now bandaged hand. So Emilia sat by the lake, staring into the abyss, the event of the afternoon replaying in her mind. Her tears had long stopped, her eyes now swollen and dry. She missed her mother, her siblings, her farm, her nanny, and her simple life. She missed it all.
She didn't know what to make of the duke; although he took her side over a princess, that didn't mean that he was a good person or that he was any better than Lord Goring; he was only younger than the latter.
In a matter of minutes her life had changed once again. And now she was to be married to the duke with no way of escaping. She knew nowhereto go in the north of cold Dacra. The only places she had ever been are the market and the publishing shop in her months of being here.
Emilia knew very well that it would be useless trying to run away when the entire thown of Therma was filled with guards who were under the Duke's command. But it didn't stop her from trying anyway. She was never one to conform to anything. She had escaped a marriage once; she could do it again.
The only person she could entrust with this was Sarah, who helped her pack two apples and a piece of bread for the journey; with the money in her coin purse, she would survive a few days even in the wilderness.
While everyone had retired to sleep, she snuck through the servants' hallways to the stables and through the posterior of the castle, which would lead her to the fields of maize and deeper into the Dacran forest.
She took a deep breath through the nose as her bare feet touched the grass just outside the palace. Freedom had never felt so near, or so she thought. She had run for a little over thirty minutes when all of a sudden, out of the darkness appeared the Duke himself, in all his glory. His dark hair shone in the moonlight as he stood tall.
"Going somewhere?" He asked. The guards arrived a second later, and an angry-looking butler, Lancelot.
A gasp left her lips. She backed away and took off running, but they were faster. She struggled, kicking and screaming, but to no avail.
"Please..." Emilia began, but her words were cut off as four guards carried her back into the hall. There she met a shaking Sarah on the ground in tears.
"Sarah?" she called out. All Sarah could do was shake her head, unable to speak from her swollen cheeks. Emilia turned to the duke. "I beg you, she didn't do anything, please."
A nod to Lancelot, and Sarah was carried away. His silent steps resounded in the dining hall as he walked towards her.
"I don't know what to make of you." He gave a weird smile. "Bold or stupid."
Emilia crawled to him. "Please sentence me to be caned by the gallows, to the dungeons, or just send me home, please." She cried.
He crouched down to her with a long pause. "Am I so undesirable that you would rather be killed than marry me?" He asked quietly. Emilia gasped, shaking on the ground.
"I have insulted your grace; please forgive me. I am not fit to be a duchess; I am a slave, I am filthy, and I will be a stain to you, please." She begged. He nodded and stood up.
"Are you afraid of me?" He asked. Emilia kept quiet. Everyone was afraid of Duke William of Therma; it was common news. Who would she be not to, and why would he doubt it?.
"Your grace is feared across the north and four regions of the kingdom of Dacra and Dystoria. Only a fool would not." She replied.
"I guess I would have considered you mad if you didn't try to run away." He replied. "But I think you don't."
Emilia's eyes widened, shaking her head as he spoke.
"See, first you tried to tell me what to do, then you insulted me, and now you acknowledged it." He continued.
"You questioned my authority and decided to give me ideas on what punishment you deserve."
Emilia's stomach fell.
"Have mercy, your grace." She pleaded. He was spinning all her words in ways she never meant them. More hot tears fell.
"There is a lineupof women at my beck and call who would kill to be in your position, yet here you are vehemently refusing me to my face." He sighed dryly. "I am not a very patient man."
"I dare not refuse you; I have no voice to do so. I simply do not wish to marry so young." She forced out between tears.
"How old are you?" He asked.
"Nine and ten years old, your highness." She replied.
"You are a child." He said she held her breath. "But the princess was seventeen."
Emilia's heart broke more. There was no way around it. This man was not ready to listen. She hung her head dejected as more tears flowed. From imagining her prince charming to this. What high official did she murder in her previous life to get such horrible luck?.
"I am positive you have now understood that you cannot make me change my mind." He asked. She nodded without looking up, her shoulders shaking as she cried.
"Even if I did, the message had already been sent to the king. It's out of my hands too." He said. And she slowly looked up.
If word had gone to the king that the duke was finally getting married, it would only be a matter of time before her family found out. Making her father, a gambler, the in-law of a Duke was a nightmare she preferred to remain not a reality.
"It was a hassle troubling the guards to find you in the middle of the night; if you try that again, do not expect me to be this patient." He dragged a hand over his face. "And I don't punish women at the gallows; the only punishment they get is death." The duke said.
Emilia swallowed hard. "Imagine how much more work it will be to tell the king my new fiancée died." He asked. "Even your family will not be spared; do you want that to happen?"