"But Immalaine, Rastellion loves you, you must know that. Let him help ..."
Let him help. Zandrianna’s words echoed in her head, as they had for the past couple of days. “He can help, he'll know what to ...." Immalaine knew what her friend was going to say, even as she cut her words off. She couldn’t though, she thought to herself. There was so much she hadn’t told him … didn’t want him to know about her past. Things that filled her will sorrow and shame. How could he possibly love her after he heard about them?
But how could she not tell him? Another image came to her mind, a pair of cold grey eyes that haunted her. Trembling in fear, she looked around cautiously as they rode up the path. She knew the man wasn’t going to be happy when he found out they had gone to seek the third signature. Would he follow her? Or simply assume that she’d do as she was told; that he would get his way.
“Rastellion loves you …” Immalaine shook her head as the words played over and over. Did he? She thought he did, hoped he still would after she told him everything. She was falling apart inside, hiding it from him and the nightmares were only growing worse. Nightmares she had thought she’d finally left behind …
7 Months Earlier –
She had escaped. After three long months of sheer hell, she had managed to slip out while the guards on her were drunk and passed out. She ran, not caring about the where, not noticing the pain in her legs or her stomach. Blind fear kept her going – he wouldn’t find her again. This she swore to herself.
Traveling at night, sleeping during the day wherever she could find shelter, she didn’t stop. Any time she faltered, she thought of the pain – the humiliation – and she found inside her enough strength to kept moving forward.
Finally, she came upon an abandoned cottage and took shelter. Grateful for a place with a roof, she slipped into the door, and looked around at the bare floors, everything covered with a layer of dust from misuse. Her head pounding, and her legs weak, she sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around her abdomen, the pain a constant throb now. She couldn’t be sick, she thought, couldn’t afford to be sick right now. Yet the pain continued, coming in wave after wave.
Had a midwife been present, she would have known the pain for what it was. But there was no one, and Immalaine had never witnessed a childbirth; it had never even entered her mind.
A lack of knowledge that almost cost her life …
