“Is that you?” he said, squinting out the back exit. “Hurry up.”
A shadow moved in the doorway.
Céline tensed as Mariah slowly came inside. Her feet were bare, and she again looked like a doe about to spring.
“You know what to do by now,” Keegan said. “Just get on with it. Unless you and your sister want to move on now that your father’s dead and you have no man to work the mines.” He waved his hand toward the basket of food. “And you want those vermin children to go hungry.”
In the light of the candle lantern, Mariah’s young face was even more beautiful, but her black eyes glowed with hate and fear.
She didn’t run or move closer to him.
With a disgusted sound, he reached out and grabbed her arm.
Céline wanted to shout and push him away, but she was only an observer, and she had a sick feeling in her stomach that she knew exactly what was coming.
Keegan dragged Mariah toward his bed. As he reached it, he turned and roughly pushed the top of the dress down over her shoulders. Her breasts were pale and small, like the rest of her.
Céline started choking. She wanted this to end. She wanted to be away from here.
Then Keegan had Mariah pinned down on top of the bed. He shoved her skirt up, and she began to whimper. Inside the vision, Céline forced herself to turn, to look away.
The image vanished.
“Céline!”
Opening her eyes, she could hear herself choking and see Jaromir crouched beside her chair. Amelie was right behind him.
Céline feared she was going to be sick.
“Come out of it,” Jaromir said. “I’m right here.”
Captain Keegan walked up behind Amelie. “What is happening?” he demanded.
Céline couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Mariah sat tightly in her chair, with her head swiveling back and forth, and Céline realized she’d need to get a quick hold of herself. She had no intention of humiliating the girl further in this company.
“What did you see?” Amelie asked.
“Nothing,” she answered. “It didn’t work.”
Both Jaromir and Amelie would know she was lying, but neither would give her away. Putting her hand on the arm of her chair, she tried standing. Marcus was staring at her.
Keegan appeared uncertain, but he motioned toward Marcus with his head. “You want to read him now?”
“No,” Marcus said, his voice resounding through the tent. “Not like this.”
Two of the soldiers moved to grab him, and Céline couldn’t stop herself from crying out, “Don’t touch him!” For some reason, she couldn’t stand the thought of those filthy soldiers putting their hands on Marcus again.
Both soldiers froze in place, and again, she fought for control of herself. “Forgive me,” she managed to say to Keegan. “The day has been too long, and I am weary. Could we please forgo this for the night?”
The walls of the tent were swimming around her now, and she barely heard his reply, which seemed to include some kind of apology.
“Please allow Marcus and Mariah to go home,” she said.
The next thing she knew, Jaromir was on one side of her and Amelie was on the other, and she was being ushered out the tent’s front flap. She didn’t remember the walk back to their own tent, but she was aware of Jaromir coming inside when they reached it.
As Amelie helped Céline inside their tent, her concern was growing into open worry. She’d seen her sister this distraught only once before, and it had taken Céline a long time to recover. A candle lantern glowed from atop the table. Someone must have entered and lit it for them.
“What happened back there?” Jaromir asked. “I know you saw something.”
Amelie helped Céline into a chair and almost couldn’t believe it when her sister let out a single sob. They didn’t cry. Either of them.
“Keegan is abusing the girl . . . ,” Céline managed to get out. She wiped her eyes and took a breath. “I saw him, and I could tell that it wasn’t the first time.”
Amelie straightened. “What do you mean, ‘abusing’?”
“You know what I mean,” Céline answered quietly. “It’s not exactly force, but he’s coercing her with food for the children and threats of making her and her sister leave.”
Amelie whirled toward Jaromir. “You have to stop it. Tell him he has to stop or you’ll report him to Prince Lieven.”
In all the time she’d known Jaromir, she’d never seen him grow so uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and couldn’t seem to meet her eyes.
“Amelie . . . ,” he said. “Prince Lieven won’t care, and I can’t threaten a superior officer. I know this kind of thing is unfortunate, but it happens all the time when men are stationed in outlying places like this.”
“Unfortunate?” she repeated.
“Men trading food for the favors of a woman has been going on as long as warfare,” he said.
“It wasn’t like that,” Céline whispered. “You didn’t see it. It was awful.”
“Jaromir, you have to do something!” Amelie insisted. “You protect people. It’s what you do.” She couldn’t believe he was standing there arguing with her. Why wasn’t he already striding to Keegan’s tent?
His expression hardened. “I can’t. There’s nothing I can do.” He backed toward the entrance. “We’re here to solve a problem for Prince Anton, and I think you’d both do well to remember that.” He paused but still wouldn’t look at either of them. “You’re both tired. Get some sleep, and we’ll press on with the investigation in the morning. I’m in the tent next door. Call out if you need me.”
Though it seemed impossible that he would turn and walk out and leave things like this, he did.
Amelie stared at the empty doorway for a moment and then turned back to her sister. “Oh, Céline.”
Poor Amelie appeared so stricken by Jaromir’s behavior that Céline forced herself to stand.
“We’ll do something for the girl ourselves,” she said. “I don’t know what yet, but we will.” She reached out for Amelie’s hand. “Jaromir is right about one thing. We must get some sleep. Help me out of this dress.”
Both the assurance that they would help Mariah themselves and the sensible words about getting some sleep moved Amelie into action. They helped each other undress down to their shifts and stockings, and then they went to examine the bed. The mattress and bedding were dry, but the blankets were thin, so Céline spread their red cloaks over the top for added warmth. Then she blew out the candle lantern.
Soon they were huddled beneath the covers, and Céline hoped that her sister would not wish to talk anymore tonight. After all that had happened today, she was not up to speaking to anyone, even Amelie.
Thankfully, Amelie’s breathing soon grew steady and even, and Céline assumed that sleep would come to her quickly as well. She could not remember having been so tired.
Unfortunately, it didn’t.
Could she be too tired to sleep?
Or was it something else? She couldn’t explain it, but as she sat up, her gaze moved through the darkness toward where she knew the closed flap of the tent door to be. There was someone out there. Someone waited for her.
Leaving Amelie to sleep, Céline got up from the bed and donned her red cloak. She made her way to the tent flap and went outside. There were no soldiers milling about, but a few lamps on poles allowed her to see as far as two or three tents away.
Movement near a tent up ahead caught her eye, and someone stepped from the darkness into the light of a hanging lantern.
It was Marcus.
Then it struck her that she might be asleep, that this might be a dream.
Without thinking, she walked toward him, and he drew her back out of sight, between two tents. She followed. His face was so beautiful, almost unreal, with his black eyes and sharp cheekbones. No, this wasn’t a dream. She was awake.