Gwendolyn looked up into the eyes of her captor and saw the dark malice there, the promise of unspeakable horrors to come.
"Scrub her thoroughly!" the lady ordered the two female servants before. "And don't miss any part of her filthy body. We need her spotless."
She was dragged by the soldier through the hallway, and into a small bathroom. A few minutes later, she was stripped and thrown into a bath filled with ice-cold water.
The servants nodded, their faces betraying no emotion. They took a large brush and started scrubbing her skin with it, the bristles digging into her flesh.
The soldiers stood guard as the servants did their work. Their eyes were fixed on Gwendolyn, and they watched her every move.
"Don't worry, slave," one of the servants said, her voice filled with contempt. "We'll make sure you're nice and clean for your punishment."
"Please, let me go," Gwendolyn begged.
"Silence, slave! You dare to disobey your betters?" Another servant shouted.
"No, but please, I—"
The servant struck her, the slap echoing in the quiet room.
"Stop your whining, girl. This is only the beginning."
"I'm not a slave!" Gwendolyn cried.
"You're whatever the master says you are," the servant sneered. "And right now, you're a worthless piece of garbage."
Gwendolyn flinched at the insult.
"You'll be lucky if the lady lets you live after your punishment," the servant continued.
They scrubbed her hard, leaving her skin raw and aching. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out.
After a few minutes, the servants stopped their brutal scrubbing.
"Now, wash her hair," the lady's voice commanded.
One of the servants grabbed her by the hair and shoved her head underwater. She tried to pull away, but the servant held her there, her grip unbreakable.
Gwendolyn struggled, her lungs burning as she fought for air. After what seemed like an eternity, she was pulled up, gasping and sputtering.
The servant sneered, "I'll teach you to resist."
She repeated the process, again and again, each time holding Gwendolyn under a little longer. Finally, after the fifth time, the servant released her.
Gwendolyn gasped for air, her hair clinging to her face and neck. The icy water dripped from her body, and she shivered violently.
"That's better," the servant smirked, satisfied with her handiwork.
Gwendolyn could feel the anger bubbling inside her. She was so tired and hungry, and her whole body hurt. She couldn't take any more of this torture.
"Please, let me go," Gwendolyn begged, her voice trembling.
"Never," the servant laughed cruelly.
The other servants' laughter rippled across the small bathroom.
Gwendolyn's resolve was breaking. She had never experienced such humiliation and cruelty in her lifetime. It was too much for her to bear.
The servant yanked her out of the tub, her feet slipping on the wet floor.
"You're just a worthless slave," the servant said, her voice dripping with contempt.
The other servants chuckled at her words.
Gwendolyn could feel their hatred and disdain directed towards her. She clenched her fists, fighting the urge to lash out against their hostility, knowing it would only worsen her situation. As she stood there, another older servant entered the small bathroom. Her eyes widened in anger, adding to the tense atmosphere with her disapproving glare.
"Clean this mess up and put her in a cell. I'll have the guards watch her until the Lady decides what to do with her," the servant ordered, her voice harsh.
"Yes, mistress," the other servants murmured, their heads bowed.
Gwendolyn was led to a dark and dingy cell in the dungeon. The door was slammed behind her, and she was left alone in the darkness.
She sank to the cold, damp floor and sobbed quietly, her tears mingling with the dirty water that soaked her hair and clothes. She felt so hopeless, so utterly powerless. She had no idea what would become of her. Would the Lady be merciful and allow her to live, or would she order her death?
She thought of her family and friends back in Breckenridge. Would they ever know what happened to her? Would they even care?
Her heart ached as she recalled how Prince Rylan and Beatrix, whom she had trusted completely, had turned their backs on her. The sting of their betrayal gnawed at her, mingling with the fear of what awaited her in this strange and hostile environment.
She had lost track of time since her imprisonment, but eventually, the door swung open, and the same older servant from earlier entered, flanked by two guards.
"Get up, slave!" the servant barked.
Gwendolyn slowly got to her feet, her body trembling with fear.
"Follow me!" the servant commanded.
Gwendolyn complied, her steps hesitant as she followed the servant out of the cell.
They led her again through a maze of corridors and stairs, finally stopping outside a large, ornate door.
"Go inside!" the servant ordered, her voice cold and harsh.
Her heart quickened as she entered the room. It was luxurious and extravagantly adorned, standing out sharply from the rest of the mansion.
There were large, plush sofas and chairs, and a thick, expensive carpet. The walls were covered with expensive paintings, and the ceiling was high and vaulted.
As she took in the grandeur, she couldn't help but wonder: why had she been brought to such a grand and luxurious room?
To her surprise, she was led toward a small table where a sumptuous meal was laid out. The scent of freshly baked bread, roast meat, and sweet pastries filled the air.
"Sit and eat!" the servant ordered, gesturing toward the food.
Gwendolyn obeyed, her stomach growling as she surveyed the feast. She struggled with her manners while a fierce hunger gnawed at her insides. Spotting a steam basket of warm dishes on the table, likely leftovers from breakfast, she couldn't resist.
Grabbing a piece of bread, she took a bite and quickly devoured the chewy dough, almost moved to tears by the savory meat filling. She ate so fast that she found herself panting for breath when she finished, still eyeing the other two breads on the table that were still calling to her.
Looking up, she saw the servant standing nearby. She hastily wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and began apologizing profusely for her behavior.
The servant smirked. "Enjoy it while you can, slave. You're going to need your strength for what's to come."
Bewildered, Gwendolyn couldn't help but wonder what the servant meant. Was she going to be fed and treated well, or would her situation deteriorate further?
Fear gripped her heart as she imagined the worst, uncertain of what awaited her in this opulent but ominous place.
After a few minutes, the servant barked, "Stand up! We're leaving."
As they left the room, Gwendolyn's heart pounded with anxiety. The lavish room vanished behind her as they stepped into the dim, cold hallways. She had no idea what awaited her next.