insulted—at least, not to my face. I’ve never had anyone look at me with loathing, like I’m an insect, like I’m a pile of burning trash.
I always try to be cheerful and kind. I can’t stand conflict. It’s practically pathological. I need to be loved.
I can feel myself squirming under his gaze, trying to think of a way to prove that I don’t deserve his contempt. I feel compelled to reason with him, even when I know how impossible that would be.
It’s pathetic.
I wish I were brave and confident. I wish I didn’t care what anyone thought.
I’ve always been surrounded by people who love me. My parents, my older brother—even Riona, who might be prickly, but I know she cares about me, deep down. Our house staff spoiled and adored me.
Now it’s all been ripped away, and what am I without it? A weak and frightened girl who is so deeply, deeply lonely that I would even sit down to dinner with my own kidnapper again, just to have someone to talk to.
It’s sick.
I have to find a way of surviving here. Some way to distract myself.
So the next morning, as soon as I wake up, I’m determined to start exploring the house.
I’ve barely sat up in bed before Klara brings in my breakfast tray. She has a hopeful, expectant look on her face. Someone must have told her I agreed to eat.
True to my word, I come sit at the little breakfast table over by the window. Klara sets the food down in front of me, laying a linen napkin in my lap.
It smells phenomenal. I’m even hungrier than I was last night. I rip into the bacon and fried eggs, then shovel up mouthfuls of diced potatoes.
My stomach is a bear fresh out of hibernation. It wants everything, absolutely everything, inside of it.
Klara is so pleased to see me stuffing potatoes in my mouth that she continues her Polish lessons, naming everything on the tray.
I’m starting to pick up some of the bridge words as well—for example, when she points to the coffee and says, “To się nazywa kawa,” I’m pretty sure it means “That’s called coffee.”
In fact, the more comfortable Klara gets, the more she starts directing full sentences at me, just out of friendliness, not expecting me to understand it.
As she pulls open the heavy crimson drapes, she says, “Jaki Piękny dzień,” which I think is something like, “It’s a beautiful day.” Or maybe, “It’s sunny today.” I’ll figure it out as I hear more.
I notice Klara isn’t missing any bits of her fingers, and she doesn’t have any tattoos like Mikolaj’s men—none that are visible, anyway. I don’t think she’s Braterstwo herself. She just works for them.
I’m not stupid enough to think that means she’s on my side. Klara is kind, but we’re still strangers. I can’t expect her to help me.
I do expect to leave this room today, however. Mikolaj promised that if I kept eating, I could wander around the rest of the house. Everywhere but the west wing.
So after I finish, I tell Klara, “I want to go outside today.”
Klara nods, but points toward the bathroom first.
Right. I’m supposed to shower and change clothes.
The bedroom contains the giant claw-foot tub that Klara used to bathe me last night. The bathroom is much more modern, with a standing glass shower and double sinks. I rinse off quickly, then pick a clean outfit from the chest of drawers.
I pull out a white t-shirt and gray sweatshorts, like something you’d be assigned to wear in gym class. There are other fancier clothes, but I don’t want to draw attention, especially from Mikolaj’s men.
Klara picks up my dirty clothes off the floor, wrinkling her nose because they’ve gotten pretty filthy over the last few days, even though I haven’t worn them out of the room.
“Umyję je,” she says.
I’m hoping that means, “I need to wash these,” not, “I’m chucking these in the trash.”
“Don’t throw them away!” I beg her. “I need that bodysuit. For dancing.”
I point to the leotard and do a quick first to second position with my arms, to show her that I want to wear it when I practice.
Klara nods her head.
“Rozumiem.” I understand.
Klara insists on blow-drying my hair again, and styling it. She does a sort of half-up, half-down thing with braids around the crown of the head. It looks nice but takes way too long when I’m impatient to start exploring. She tries to paint my face again, but I push