The Hidden Crystal

Chapter 48

A girl lay in a bed, sobbing, her face hidden in her hands. Glimpses of her bare shoulders peeked through her messy chestnut brown hair, spread across her and the tangled sheets.

A gray-haired man stood over her, sneering as he buttoned his pants. He smoothed his hair as he turned to go. "Make sure you finish your dusting."

She didn't respond, and he didn't wait for a response. He left without another word or a backward glance.

And the moment the door closed behind him, she sat up, her blue eyes narrowed and flashing in her puffy, tear-stained face.

"I'll do more than that."

She retrieved her black and white maid uniform from the floor, casting frequent glances at the door as she dressed in haste. A bureau stood across the room from her, and she crept toward it, reaching a trembling hand out to lift the lid from a jewelry box. The sunlight pouring through the window caught on the polished wood and reflected onto the single item within the box, a plain-looking necklace with a clear ovular stone.

She glanced at the door again.

Then she snatched up the brass chain and dropped it into her pocket.

She combed her fingers through her hair, gathered her cleaning supplies, and hurried out of the room and down the hall, hanging her head to hide her face.

"Good morning, Iris."

Micah's voice and a sharp shake of her shoulder dragged Iris into consciousness. She whimpered, and then she felt the mattress shift beside her, and she tensed. This was his bed. His room. And when she opened her eyes, she'd see his face.

But if she didn't respond soon, he'd shake her again. She didn't want to feel any more pain than was necessary.

She opened her eyes.

He'd propped himself up on an elbow next to her, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger and looking down on her with eyes as cold as ice. "Did you hear the past bearers at all last night?"

"No." Her voice wasn't harsh; her throat wasn't raw. It felt wrong when the rest of her ached and burned.

"Any dreams?"

She swallowed. "I... I think I saw my mother stealing the amulet."

"Interesting."

Micah studied her for a moment, silent and motionless but for his finger playing with her hair. All Iris could do was wait. She didn't know how or why she had that dream; she only knew hiding anything from him would lead to more pain.

"A maid, about sixteen years old, with brown hair and blue eyes?"

"Yes. He... There was a man, an older man with gray hair, and he..."

"Raped her," Micah finished for Iris, as dispassionate as ever. "I made my master tell me everything before I killed him." He chuckled. "To keep that amulet in such an insecure location, and to rape the very girl responsible for keeping it in pristine condition—I would have been more surprised if she hadn't stolen it. And then it took him two years to track her down. She told him she pawned it, and the fool believed her."

Two years. Meaning Iris could have been a little over a year old when her mother left her at the church—unless her mother abandoned her earlier than that.

She had only been a girl. Just sixteen years old.

"Is... is she dead?"

Micah scoffed. "Of course. My late master couldn't have anyone discovering his folly, could he?"