A Line in the Dirt I Shouldn't Have Crossed

Having never had a lover in my entire life, I must confess that the sensation of a man’s hands circling my waist to hoist me onto a horse’s back was profoundly strange. A jolt, both foreign and unwelcome, shot through me. Viktor then mounted behind me, his presence a solid weight at my back, and began to guide the horse out of the stable. It was then that a sudden thought surfaced.

“Hey,” I began, twisting slightly to address him, “isn’t there supposed to be a chaperone whenever a man and a woman are alone together?” The trope, gleaned from the countless historical novels I had devoured, suddenly seemed urgently relevant. In those stories, unmarried women were never permitted to be in a man’s company without supervision. I’d always thought the custom was rather sexist.

“I am the king,” he stated flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. “Who would dare accuse you of being impure?” A deep scarlet flush burned its way up my neck. I had completely forgotten the underlying reason for the chaperone rule, the implication of what two people of opposite genders might do if left alone. The embarrassment was acute. I did not press the subject further.

Viktor steered the horse away from the stables at a steady walk, and we were soon enveloped by the cool, dappled shade of the forest. For a time, the ride was quiet and uneventful, the rhythmic clopping of hooves the only sound. That fragile peace was shattered when the terrible, crisp crack of a whip tore through the tranquil air.

“What was that?” I asked, my blood turning to ice in my veins. And then I heard it—the unmistakable, high-pitched wail of a little girl crying out in agony.

“It’s nothing,” Viktor remarked, his tone dripping with contempt. “Merely the sound of a slave being punished.”

What?

Before I was even conscious of my own actions, I had launched myself from the horse, my feet hitting the soft earth with a thud. I began racing in the direction of the horrifying sounds. Behind me, I could hear Viktor dismounting and calmly tethering the horse to a branch, but I paid him no mind. Pushing past low-hanging branches, scrambling over gnarled roots, and shoving my way through dense shrubs, I kept sprinting until I burst into a small, squalid clearing.

The scene that greeted me was sickening. A burly man with a dark, unkempt beard was bringing a whip down upon a young girl who could not have been more than ten years old.

“Cease! Stop it!” I shrieked, running toward them without a second thought. I flung my body protectively around the child’s petite, trembling frame. The whipping stopped.

“Move aside, Miss,” the man growled, the whip held slack in his hand. “This is none of your concern.”

“The hell it isn’t!” I screamed back at him, my voice shaking with a rage so potent it nearly choked me. “You have no right to be whipping this child!”

“Get out of the way, Miss, or you’ll feel the whip, too.”

“Natalia.” My head snapped up at the sound of my name. Viktor was standing a few feet away, his expression an unreadable mask. “Step away from her.”

“No! I have to help her! I can’t just—” A tug on my gown made me look down. The small child was burrowed against me, her face hidden.

“It’s okay, Ma’am,” the little girl mumbled, her voice muffled by desperate sobs. “You should go before Master gets even angrier.” No! Didn’t she understand I was trying to save her?

“Viktor! What do you think you’re doing? Unhand me this instant!” The brute had simply snatched me up and thrown me over his shoulder as if I were nothing more than a sack of potatoes. Just after he carried me from the clearing, the agonizing crack of the whip resumed. I flinched violently. That creature—that inhuman monster! If that little girl was injured too severely, she might not survive! And he just carried me away as if her life had no more value than a stone on the path.

“Viktor, take me back! We have to help that girl!”

“That girl is a slave. She is nothing. Her life is not your concern.” Why did he sound so bored, as if this horrific event had no more bearing on him than the weather?

“But she—”

“That girl is a slave, Natalia,” he interrupted, his voice terrifyingly cold. “Her life is meaningless. She has no needs. It does not matter to me whether she lives or dies. It does not affect me, and in time, it will not affect you. You do not belong to this world. Be silent now, before I am forced to make you.”

I seethed. I would never be like him. Every human life was precious. Furthermore, the very institution of slavery needed to be abolished! It had been outlawed in most of my world for centuries! How could they be so backward here?

Viktor was a villain. That’s what he was. No decent person could witness that little girl’s suffering and remain impassive. I would never allow myself to become indifferent. That other man was a monster, too. Perhaps they should get together and compare their nefarious plans. They would surely get along famously.

“You’re a terrible person,” I spat the moment we reached the horse and Viktor finally set me on my feet. “I hate you.” If he hadn’t kept my hand in an iron grip, I would have sprinted back to help the girl without hesitation.

“And you,” he shot back, his tone glacial, “are disobedient, immature, and childish. You don’t comprehend how the world works. Were you difficult for your parents to raise? I can see why.”

Oh no, he did not! I was not difficult! My parents never had trouble raising me! I was a good kid! I excelled in school! At least I wasn’t some monster who went around breaking girls’ arms for no reason!

“For your information, I was an exceptionally well-behaved child growing up! You’re the one with the issues!” The hold on my hand tightened punishingly, and with a sickening pop, I felt one of my fingers dislocate. I cried out, the sharp agony effectively silencing me. Pain was, it turned out, one of the best ways to shut me up. The fragile truce we had cultivated that morning was shattered, our spirits broken along with my finger. I remained utterly silent for the entire journey back to the mansion.

As we exited the stables, Viktor retrieved my umbrella, then dragged me across the grounds and back to my room. He shoved me inside and slammed the door. A moment later, I heard the sharp click of the lock. Damn it! Locked in again.

He left me in that room for the rest of the day. It was only when evening fell and the sky began to darken that Morgan arrived to help me prepare for supper.

“What did you do this time, Natalia?” she asked softly.

Her question opened the floodgates. I went on a tirade, venting all my fury and despair about the terrible injustice of it all. I appreciated that Morgan simply listened, letting me pour everything out while she skillfully worked to get me ready. I had no intention of eating, of course. I knew skipping the meal would displease the King, and at that moment, any act of defiance against that lunatic felt like a victory.

When I was finally dressed and my rant had subsided, she spoke, her voice a low whisper. “While I do agree with you, Natalia, you probably should have kept your mouth shut.” She held up a hand to stop my protest. “Don’t look at me like that! Just think about it. That little girl you were trying to help? She was probably beaten twice as hard because of your interference.”

The thought had never occurred to me. Guilt churned in my stomach, hot and acidic. I stared down at my feet, imagining the poor girl curled up in some dark corner, suffering from wounds inflicted by that horrible man—wounds made worse by my failed intervention.

Numbly, I allowed Morgan to lead me to the dining room, where I took a seat beside Viktor. A few moments later, he began to eat. I simply stared at the artfully arranged food on my plate. My attempt at rebellion was a complete failure; he took no notice of my hunger strike, instead making it a point to comment on how delicious the meal was. The man was unbearable.