"You can stop pretending now. Open your eyes," the Baroness said with elegance, as if we were talking in a ballroom.
I dared not open them. I needed more time to think, to ponder a proper way out of this. I needed more…
"I said open them!" she shouted, then smacked me across the face. I couldn't hide anymore. My natural response was to open my eyes—and burn holes into her with a scowl.
There she is.
My blood, the lioness.
She said, going back to her soft tone, then she giggled uncontrollably.
"What an absolutely foolish name. Tell me, were you the one who thought that up?"
I stayed silent, out of spite. They had abducted me, yes but my words still belonged to me. They were the only thing I had left now,
as I hung there, hoisted up on a slab.
My refusal to answer gave way to an uncomfortable silence. She frowned and gracefully approached the torturous tools. She went to the first one, caressing it slowly before me.
"Did your father ever tell you about your grandpa? I imagine he didn't. His name was Afentis. Your father was actually second of his name Afentis Willis Orwil. My father. A truly sadistic man. Actually, this torturer's dungeon was his, and these were his tools."
She placed her hands on a rusty hooked blade, touching it slowly and elegantly, as if it were the skin of a baby. Then she moved on to the next, my eyes transfixed on her actions.
"He was a wicked and evil man. That's how we got to our position, you know—not through respect and honor like your father would have you believe. Afentis the Second always despised your grandpa.
He would bring the both of us down here and watch him mutilate criminals and prisoners of war. He would force us to watch. Your father always turned away, but I never did."
Her hand grazed over a jagged and disfigured axe, then over an absolutely terrifying whip with metal studs at the tips.
"Your grandpa hated your father. He would always say he lacked the stomach to do what was necessary. He loved me. He knew that I would follow in his ways. Sometimes he would force Afentis the Second to watch, having one of the guards hold his head in place while he gave me one of these tools here and told me to join him."
She gave a most sadistic laugh…
"Those were the days… we had a true father-daughter connection. Born in torture."
Her hand finally rested on a rusted dagger. She unhooked it from the chain that held it.
"I always suspected that my brother killed him. He died in his 40s, on a hunting expedition with my brother and his council. I think they all conspired against him. Women weren't allowed to go on hunting expeditions, you see," she said with a tone of annoyance.
"Ludicrous really, I am accepted in the torturer's dungeon, but not in a hunting party." She sighed, slowly approaching me with the blade in hand.
"Sexist traditions. But I know you know what I mean by that. My son being so pressed that you led the men and reprimanded him, taking away his chance at glory."
"Mother I—"
"Leave us!" Lysa said, interrupting Raymon.
Raymon scoffed, and I heard him climb the stairs to this place.
I was in a basement, I thought.
Pike still watched from the dungeon door, peeking in like some little boy.
She slowly reached for my face, holding my jaw with her hand, free of the blade.
"It was my idea, you know—for you to marry Raymon. But when I heard you said no, in such a way," she smirked, smacking him across the face, "I knew that you were just like me.
That's right, you take after your Aunt Lysa," she said, as she pinched my chin to hold me still and looked into my eyes.
"If only I was your ward growing up. What a shame. I would've made you a woman of true purpose. Now look at you."
I did everything I could not to lash out in verbal outrage, but my anger was written across my face.
"Oh, such fire you still have. You know, Justine, I always enjoy the ones with fire," she said.
As she softly moved the blade from my collarbone down to the middle of my bosom, my eyes locked on the movements of the blade.
When she got to the edge of my dress, she positioned the blade downward as if she were going to stab me in the center of my chest.
With a rough and hacking motion, she began to rip apart my dress down the middle, leaving my chest open and bare. The blade was dull, so it took some effort to get it done.
"You're just as prideful and defiant as your father. I will do something about this. Don't die Justine. We have so much to talk about down here. Just wait."