Chapter Eight
THE NIGHTMARE
As the night wore on, Kyrah stared aimlessly toward the ceiling and couldn’t help fearing the worst—whatever that might be. The very uncertainty of her circumstances was perhaps the most frightening of all. What would they do to her? Would they ever believe she was innocent? And perhaps worst of all, she wondered if Ritcherd’s mother would ever cease trying to destroy her.
The cell-like room was still completely dark when a key turned loudly in the lock and light filtered in from the hallway. Kyrah sat up quickly, knowing something was terribly wrong.
“Come along, little lady,” the constable said sternly.
“Where are we going?” she asked, unable to disguise the panic in her voice. She clutched her bag tightly, grateful that she’d not undressed for bed.
“Just come along,” he insisted and took her arm far too firmly. As he ushered her outside, Kyrah hoped for a fleeting moment that the charges had been dropped and she would be allowed to go home. But the constable pushed her into a carriage that rolled the wrong direction as soon as he was seated beside her. Across from them was a foul-smelling man with eyes that chilled her through the dim glow of the carriage lantern. His build was husky, and his entire aura was menacing. The way he was dressed reminded her of the men she’d seen on her visits to the pier. He was a sailor!
Kyrah couldn’t suppress a gasp when the likelihood of what was happening struck her. The man sitting across from her smiled, showing a number of missing teeth.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, forcing her voice to remain steady.
“Where every criminal ought to go,” the constable mumbled under his breath, as if her objection was merely a slight inconvenience.
“I’m not a criminal!” Kyrah protested. “I demand a trial! This is not right!”
When the constable ignored her and the burly sailor grinned, Kyrah panicked. She lunged toward the door, clutching her bag tightly, heedless of the speed of the carriage. She screamed as strong arms dragged her back onto the seat. She became dizzy with fear and felt suddenly nauseous from the odor of her captor as he slapped a hand over her mouth.
“You’d better shut her up,” the constable said, “or we’ll never get her on that ship without causing a scene. And we don’t need a scene.”
Kyrah squirmed and fought with every ounce of strength she possessed. She felt a sharp pain at the back of her head only an instant before everything went black.