Journey of a Girl

Secrets We Keep: Chapter Two

Credence did not know how long she had been asleep.

It could have been minutes or days. Her body felt sluggish and weak, as it did after too little or too lengthy a rest.

The knocking persisted, so Credence tucked Ma's book under the pillow and dragged herself out of bed to answer the door.

John was leaning against the doorframe, smiling.

He had changed from the robes of the hooded stranger, now wearing plain brown pants and a green shirt with a length of rope looped around his waist. His hair was carelessly settled, making it appear that he'd recently rolled around in the dirt.

He looked very much like Credence remembered him at the enchanted cabin, the only difference being the cane tucked under his right arm. She hated that she found his appearance objectively handsome, though the bitter scorn she felt would never allow those thoughts to linger.

His smile, however, was every bit as wolfish as the animal underneath, and the scar running over his lips and chin served as a reminder of what he had taken from her.

"Hungry?" he asked in a tone that implied he already knew the answer.

"No."

"Liar." He untied the rope around his waist. "It's time for dinner."

"We only just left the towns," she countered, "and it was night. It cannot possibly be time for dinner."

"You've noticed there's no sun or moon in the sky, yes? It would be best to put aside any notion of day or night. There are no such things here. There is only the will of my master, and he's commanded that dinner will begin now."

He motioned with the rope.

"I would rather not do this," he said with an exhausted sigh. "What do you think? Will you walk with me or must I use this?"

To spite him, and because she loathed the sound of his voice, Credence petulantly held out her wrists, and John rolled his eyes and wrapped the rope around her.

He steered her like an animal on a leash, which was not without its difficulty given his need for the cane, a fact he grumbled about several times.

Credence walked in front of him with her head held high.

It will always be like this, she promised herself.

She would never go to the Collector untethered.

She would continue to prove that she had to be forced to endure his company, and he would never have the satisfaction of seeing her walk willingly into his presence. The rope around her wrists was a badge of honor, and the Collector would read its message loud and clear.

At the edge of the drawbridge, Credence hesitated. John pushed her forward with a grunt, not caring to notice the tremble that ran through her as they walked over the river.

She couldn't help sparing a glance at the black water beneath their feet, and she swore she could see things moving under the current, though nothing broke through the surface.

On the other side of the arched entryway was the remains of a grand courtyard and garden, long fallen to ruin, its flowers shriveled and dried to brown.

The only plant that thrived was the ivy that choked the castle walls.

There were statues placed throughout, with faces Credence couldn't identify. She wanted to stop and study them, but John's firm hand pushed her onward, towards the entry that led inside the castle.

At their approach a massive pair of doors opened.

Credence was certain that servants would accompany such grandeur. She had heard of such people always being present in castles, as a necessity, in the stories of queens and kings her parents told her.