Our eyes locked.
Blue to green.
And something strange happened.
I recognised her.
Not from a magazine article like I’d recognised Nila Weaver but a soul-deep recognition.
A nudge inside that said…you share something with this woman. You have more in common than you think.
Needing validation on such a wild theory, I murmured, “Before I tell you who I am…can you tell me who you are?”
The steel in my tone softened to a more malleable fabric. Something that wouldn’t break but wouldn’t stay in one unyielding entity either.
Tess dropped her gaze to my ballgown, licking her bottom lip. The dynamics between her everyday casual wear and my fancy evening garb didn’t go unnoticed. We were opposites even if something linked us that we couldn’t explain.
Ghosts shadowed her gaze, followed by a quick smirk. “All right.”
When she didn’t start straight away, I held my breath, wondering if she’d changed her mind.
But then she said softly, “For some reason, I don’t think you’re asking who I am now…more so…who I was before. Am I right?”
I didn’t fully understand but nodded. “Why do I get the feeling you know what I’ve lived through?”
She smiled gently. “Because my husband has been saving slaves all his life and I’ve embraced his calling as my own. We’ve both seen things that severely lowers our opinion of the human race—”
I shook my head. “It’s more than that.”
She paused, studying me. “You’re right.”
We stared, doing our best to read the other. Her body language gave nothing away, revealing nothing more than a woman who was used to wealth and love and confident in her position in life. But then something damaged flickered in her gaze as if she permitted the past to shadow for a split second.
That was the part of her I recognised.
A question stained my tongue, begging to be asked, but wasn’t something anyone could slip into normal conversation.
Were you sold too?
I lowered my gaze, stroking the bruised pretty colours of my gown. My penny bracelet glittered against the maroon and midnight, bright in its affection. Elder’s kindness and love existed in every diamond-coin.
Elder…please be alive.
“I’ve never done this before, but I’m going to ignore my usual speech on how I’m the mistress of this house and forgo the necessary introduction about where you can go, what you can expect, and other housekeeping requirements.”
My eyes shot up.
“You already know I’m married to a man I hold in the highest regard and obey with utmost loyalty. I say obey, not because of archaic marriage vows, but because he is my master. My chosen master.”
I gasped.
The language she chose hinted at her past. Phrases such as master and obey I knew well. For the first time since leaving Alrik’s, I found some resemblance of familiarity even if it was twisted and wrong to find comfort in such things.
Living with Elder, the emphasis had been on freedom and personal choice.
Here, with Tess, she spoke of love in rules and affection in laws. It upset me to almost miss those boundaries—to know how big my world was and the consequences of trying to stretch those borders. Those guidelines were more acceptable than being told I could do anything and be anyone with no repercussions.
Sometimes (and I would never tell Elder this) but sometimes, the world he offered and choices he gave and experiences he presented were too big, too much, too soon.
Tess gave me something I hadn’t known I needed to hear—that it was okay to love the way you wanted to love.
She sat forward, pinning me with her intense stare. “Q is my master, but that doesn’t mean I obey him in all things. In fact, I’d say I hold all the power because I know how much he loves me.” She smiled ruthlessly. “Knowing I could break him is why I can give him every part of myself. And that is what was missing in your relationship with the man who owned you. He might’ve told you he loved you. You might’ve believed you loved him. But believe me when I say that wasn’t true.”
I didn’t know how to reply.
She had it all wrong. I understood the power she mentioned because I’d felt it when Elder confessed he loved me. The brittle desperation in his touch as he held me. The clawing hunger as he entered me. He’d given me everything, and I’d taken it without thought.
The same had happened to me.
And there was nothing fake or wrong about our connection.
If he was dead…then that would be the moment I truly broke. Not from rape or punishment but from trading hearts with him then destined to live heartless and empty without him.
The leather of Tess’s chair creaked as she said, “Before I was Tess Mercer, I was Tess Snow—unwanted by her elderly parents, throwing herself on a boy who could never fulfil her, and begging for answers about who she truly was. Then…I was kidnapped.”