Blossom

Chapter 3: Expectations

Max groaned as her shoulders submerged into the water that was almost hot enough to scald her. Her muscles ached with even the smallest movement and her back throbbed. She had never realised how tiring it could be to travel.

After they had left Castle Croix, they had travelled through woodland which had opened up into field after field filled with wheat. She had never been outside the walls of Castle Croix before and found the way the grain danced in the wind mesmerising.

After hours of travelling, Gabel declared that they should stop for the night in a village on the outskirts of the Croix Dutchy and had escorted Max and her tiny trunk to her room where she had immediately asked for a bath to be drawn for her.

In the past week her world had changed beyond recognition. Last week she was the unmarried family stumbling block who was destined to live a life of solitude and isolation, hidden away from the world. In a few short days she had been coerced into an unwanted union, forced to consummate the marriage and now she had been plucked out of the only home she had ever known by a person she had never met and was now being transported to a place she had only learned existed a few hours ago.

Max couldn't claim to be particularly happy with the circumstances she found herself in. Anxiety gnawed at the corners of her heart. She knew next to nothing about her husband and what she had seen so far, she did not like. Not one bit. He was cruel, callous, and vicious. Max shivered as images of his strong body came to mind. What would a strike from him feel like? He was so big he could easily inadvertently kill her if he raised his hand to her. Would it matter to him if he did? He didn't choose to be married to her after all.

But Joanna was probably right, the campaign would claim him sooner or later. She just had to keep her head down until she was announced a widow.

And she became her father's property again.

Max slumped down in the bath so her lips were below the water. Which scenario was worse? Living as the unwanted daughter that diseased everything she touches and was left alone to rot, or living as the wife of a tyrant, fearing his every whim.

Max's eyes wandered over the yellowing remains of bruises that littered her skin. Just like her father, her husband had used her to fulfil his desires and then vanished into the night. Why else would he have not breathed a word to her before he left?

With a groan, Max pulled the soap and towel towards herself and began to scrub the dust from the road off of her body. She knew she was only torturing herself with these thoughts. She had no control over her destiny, she was merely a puppet to be traded away as a commodity.

Her thoughts continued to spiral downwards as she dried herself by the fire and dressed. Desperate for a distraction, she placed her cape around her shoulders and opened the door to her room.

Max, with no destination in mind, walked briskly through the corridor, down the stairs into the tavern below and out of the front door. A strong wind blew through the half empty street, causing Max to huddle under her cape against the sudden chill.

Max glanced around her surroundings. All the shops were closing up for the day, and the only noise was from the several taverns and inns that lined the road. Just as Max was debating where to go, a strong hand grabbed her arm.

Jumping out of her skin, Max wheeled around, coming face to face with a man who was leering at her.

"What do we have here? You're very pretty..."

Max wrinkled her nose as the stench of alcohol on his breath assaulted her nose.

"Uhh... T-thank you...?"