Adesuwa's eyelids fluttered open, the darkness lingering like a heavy weight around her. The steady rocking of the ship beneath her, the sound of creaking wood and the distant splash of water against the hull, filled her ears. She winced, her head throbbing painfully, the events of the past days blurring in her mind. She tried to lift her arms, but the heavy chains that bound her wrists only reminded her of how far her world had fallen.
She was not alone. Her people, too, were shackled and huddled together in the cold, damp quarters of the ship. Their faces, like hers, were etched with exhaustion and despair. Some were silent, some whispered to each other in hushed tones, but all of them were trapped in the same nightmare. The fear was palpable, an invisible weight pressing down on their hearts. They, too, knew that nothing was certain anymore.
Adesuwa tried to sit up, her body stiff and sore from the long, grueling journey. As her eyes scanned the small, cramped space, she saw their faces—familiar, lost faces. They looked to her, hoping for some guidance, some miracle. But what could she give them? Her kingdom, her family, everything she had known was gone. The chains around her wrists were a constant reminder that she was just another prisoner in a world she no longer understood.
Suddenly, there was a sharp jolt. The ship slowed, and the quiet murmur of the crew's activities stopped abruptly. The vessel had come to a halt, its bow anchored in foreign waters. Adesuwa's heart skipped a beat. She had no idea where they had landed, but she could feel that the worst was still to come. The ship had stopped, but her journey was far from over.
The silence was broken by the sound of boots clattering against the wooden deck, the heavy footfalls of soldiers approaching. Adesuwa's breath caught in her throat as they entered the hold, their cold eyes scanning the prisoners.
Without warning, a soldier grabbed her roughly by the arm, yanking her to her feet. She winced in pain, the force of his grip enough to make her stumble. The other prisoners, too weak or too frightened to protest, watched helplessly as Adesuwa was dragged toward the ship's exit.
"Get up, Princess," the soldier barked, his voice gruff. "You're going ashore."
Adesuwa barely had time to adjust before they were pulling her up onto the deck, the bright sunlight momentarily blinding her as she squinted into the new world before her. She glanced back, seeing the other captives being led away, their hopes pinned on her, but there was nothing she could do. She was helpless, unable to protect them or herself.
She was shoved roughly onto a carriage that waited on the dock. The soldiers, with their stern faces and iron grips, shoved her inside, leaving the rest of her people behind, their voices fading into the distance as the carriage door slammed shut. The horses snorted and pulled the vehicle forward, their hooves pounding against the cobblestones. Adesuwa sat in the darkness, her body trembling as the realization of her fate sank in.
The carriage swayed with each turn, but she couldn't focus on the journey. Her mind raced—where were they taking her? What did this new world have in store? And who were these people, these foreign invaders who had stripped her of everything she held dear?
The carriage came to a stop after what felt like an eternity. The door swung open, and two soldiers were there to escort her out. She was pulled from the carriage, her bare feet scraping against the cold stone as they led her into a grand estate. The size of the building was overwhelming, and the opulence, the foreignness of it, made her feel even more like an outsider.
This was Hastings. The name echoed in her mind, but nothing about it made sense. She had been a princess. Now, she was a captive, brought here by forces she couldn't control. She was led through the imposing gates of the estate and into a world where nothing seemed familiar, nothing felt like home.
This was only the beginning. Would she ever see her kingdom again? Would she ever be free?
---
The grand iron gates creaked open, revealing the imposing Hastings estate. Adesuwa was led through a wide courtyard, flanked by perfectly manicured hedges and fountains that gleamed under the sunlight. The air was cold, biting at her skin, but she barely noticed. Her mind was a whirlwind of fear, confusion, and anger.
As the soldiers ushered her toward the mansion's entrance, the large oak doors swung open. Standing there, waiting for her, were three figures: a tall, stern man with silver streaks in his hair—clearly the Duke; a woman with kind eyes and an air of grace that could only be Eleanor, the Duchess; and a young boy, no more than seven years old, his face lit with an eager smile.
Adesuwa froze for a moment, her body rigid as she took in the scene. It was so far removed from the chaos of her capture, so unnervingly peaceful that it almost felt like a cruel joke.
The boy, Thomas, didn't wait. He ran forward with open arms, his enthusiasm unrestrained. "My big sister!" he exclaimed, throwing his small arms around her waist. The sudden warmth of his hug startled Adesuwa. She didn't move, didn't hug him back, but she didn't push him away either.
Thomas looked up at her, his blue eyes wide with curiosity and joy. "I've been waiting for you! Now I have someone to play with, to talk to. You'll love it here, I promise!"
Adesuwa didn't respond. She simply looked down at him, her expression unreadable, her lips pressed tightly together.
"Thomas," Eleanor said softly, stepping forward, "let her breathe. She's had a long journey."
The boy reluctantly stepped back, but his smile didn't waver. Eleanor came closer, her steps measured, her hands clasped gently in front of her. Her gaze met Adesuwa's, and she offered a warm smile.
"Welcome," Eleanor said, her voice soft and inviting. "This is your new home. From now on, you will be called Emma. It's a name that will help you fit into this world, and I hope, in time, you'll grow to love it."
Adesuwa's heart clenched at the sound of the name. Emma. It felt foreign, wrong, a further stripping away of her identity. But she didn't argue. She didn't have the strength, the will. Slowly, she nodded, her head barely dipping.
The Duke, Alfred, who had remained silent until now, spoke with a firm but not unkind tone. "You'll find that life here is different. You will adapt. Eleanor and I will see to it." His eyes lingered on her, assessing, before he turned and gestured toward the grand doors. "Come inside. You'll need food and rest."
Adesuwa followed them, her chains now removed but her wrists still sore from their grip. The marble floors of the foyer gleamed, and the grandeur of the place only deepened her sense of displacement. She moved quietly, her head slightly bowed, observing but not engaging.
Thomas walked beside her, chattering eagerly about the rooms, the garden, the horses. "You'll love the library, Emma! It's huge! And the kitchen—Cook makes the best pastries. Maybe she'll let you help her someday."
Eleanor glanced back, her smile unwavering. "Thomas is right. You'll find your place here. You've had a difficult journey, but this is a fresh start."
But Adesuwa couldn't see it as a beginning. Not yet. Her mind lingered on her people left behind on the ship, their faces filled with desperation and sorrow. She had been their princess, their hope, and now she was here, alone, in a foreign land.
For now, she would nod. She would listen. She would survive. But deep in her heart, Adesuwa knew she wasn't Emma. She would never be Emma.
The morning sun streamed through the grand windows of the Hastings estate as Eleanor, the Duchess, climbed the staircase with graceful urgency. She reached Adesuwa's door, knocking softly before stepping inside. Adesuwa was seated by the window, her gaze fixed on the gardens below, lost in thought. She did not turn to acknowledge Eleanor.
Eleanor approached with her usual warm smile, her gown rustling faintly. "Emma," she said gently, her voice soft yet firm. "Your tutor is waiting downstairs. It's time for your lesson."
Adesuwa's shoulders stiffened slightly, but she made no reply. She rose from her seat with deliberate slowness, smoothing the folds of her simple gown, and followed Eleanor without a word. Eleanor's smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. She reminded herself that this silence was a part of Emma's adjustment—a wall the girl had built to protect herself.
As they descended the ornate staircase, the house seemed alive with quiet activity. Footmen moved gracefully, maids attended to their duties, and the soft murmurs of conversations echoed in the distance. When they reached the study, Mr. Worthington stood waiting, his glasses perched on his nose and a stack of neatly arranged books on the desk.
"Good morning, Your Grace," he greeted Eleanor with a polite bow before turning to Adesuwa. "Miss Emma, it's a pleasure to see you again."
Adesuwa stood still, her face calm, her lips pressed into a thin line. She did not meet his gaze. Mr. Worthington cleared his throat, unsure how to proceed, as Eleanor gently placed a hand on Adesuwa's shoulder.
"Emma," she said softly, "this is for you. Mr. Worthington is here to help you learn and grow."
Adesuwa said nothing, her silence stretching between them like a tangible presence. Eleanor sighed, giving Mr. Worthington an apologetic look before retreating, leaving them to begin the lesson.
For two months, this pattern continued. Every morning, Eleanor would personally escort Adesuwa to her lessons, and every day, Adesuwa would sit in silence. Mr. Worthington taught her diligently, explaining English grammar and pronunciation, even reading poetry aloud to spark her interest, but she remained mute. She listened attentively, her dark eyes watchful, but she never uttered a word.
Eleanor grew increasingly concerned. One evening, as she sat in the drawing room with Alfred, she voiced her thoughts. "I don't know what to do, Alfred," she admitted, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "She hasn't spoken a single word since she arrived. She's learned to nod and follow instructions, but that's it. It's as though she's trapped within herself."
Alfred looked thoughtful, swirling his glass of brandy. "Perhaps this place reminds her of what she's lost," he suggested. "The grandeur, the order—it may feel familiar and yet foreign. Maybe she needs to be among her peers, to see what the world has to offer beyond these walls."
Eleanor's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "A school," she said, the idea forming quickly. "A prestigious girls' school. If she's surrounded by other young women her age, perhaps she'll feel less isolated. She might find her voice among them."
The next morning, Eleanor approached Adesuwa in her room. Adesuwa was sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair absently. Eleanor knelt beside her, meeting her gaze in the mirror.
"Emma," she began softly, "we've decided to send you to a wonderful school. It's a place where you'll meet other girls like yourself—intelligent, curious, and full of life. I believe it will be good for you."
Adesuwa's hand stilled, her eyes flickering with a hint of curiosity, but she said nothing. She simply nodded, her silent agreement both comforting and heartbreaking.
Eleanor rose, smoothing her skirts. "It's a marvelous school," she added, her tone bright. "You'll have tutors, friends, and a chance to flourish. You deserve that, Emma."
Eleanor turned to leave Adesuwa's room, her heart heavy with hope and concern. Just as her hand reached the doorknob, a young voice rang out behind her.
"Mother! Mother!" Thomas burst into the room, his youthful energy filling the space as he ran to Eleanor's side. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his bright eyes sparkled with determination. "I want to go to school too! Why does Emma get to go, and I don't?"
Eleanor turned to her son with a soft laugh, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "Thomas, darling, Emma will be attending a school for young ladies. It's not quite suited for you, my dear."
Thomas pouted dramatically, folding his arms. "But I want to learn too! It's not fair if she gets to leave, and I stay here. I'll be good, I promise."
Eleanor looked to Adesuwa, who sat silently at her vanity, her gaze now fixed on Thomas with the faintest hint of amusement. The duchess sighed and turned her attention back to her son. "Well, I suppose we can consider sending you to a boys' academy. But it will take time to find the right one for you, Thomas."
"No!" Thomas stomped his foot lightly, then grinned up at Eleanor. "I want to go with Emma. I'll take care of her, and we can both learn together."
Eleanor hesitated, her brow furrowing in thought. She glanced back at Adesuwa, who had turned her attention back to the mirror, her face unreadable. "Thomas, it's not so simple," Eleanor said gently. "Emma is... unique. She'll need time to adjust, and—"
"Mother," Alfred's deep voice interrupted from the doorway. The duke stepped into the room, his commanding presence immediately silencing the conversation. "Perhaps it's not such a bad idea. Thomas and Emma attending school together could ensure her safety. And, truth be told, she may feel less isolated with someone she knows by her side."
Eleanor frowned, still uncertain. "But Alfred, you know how people are. Emma is... so beautiful. Her presence will draw attention. And not all of it will be kind or honorable."
Alfred placed a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder. "Which is precisely why Thomas should go. He can look after her, keep an eye on anyone who dares to mistreat her. She's family now, Eleanor. We must protect her."
Eleanor looked back at Adesuwa, her heart softening. Though the girl had yet to utter a word, there was a quiet strength in her demeanor—a resilience that Eleanor admired. She turned to Thomas, who was practically bouncing with excitement, and smiled.
"Very well," she relented. "Thomas, you'll go to school with Emma. But you must promise to be on your best behavior and to always look out for her."
Thomas beamed, nodding enthusiastically. "I promise, Mother! I'll be the best big brother ever!"
Adesuwa turned slightly in her seat, her eyes meeting Eleanor's for a fleeting moment. There was no smile, no visible reaction, but her silent acknowledgment was enough. Eleanor leaned down, brushing a kiss across Adesuwa's temple.
"Emma, darling," she said softly, "you are part of this family now. Whatever comes, we'll face it together."
As the duchess and duke left the room with Thomas in tow, Eleanor couldn't help but worry. Adesuwa's striking beauty, her soft, sun-kissed complexion, and her delicate features were bound to draw eyes and spark whispers. But Eleanor was determined to give her a chance—a chance to grow, to heal, and perhaps, one day, to speak.