The heavy hands of the royal guards clamped down on Marissa's arms. They did not care that she was a Grand Duchess. They grabbed her roughly, their thick leather gloves digging into her bruised skin. They pulled her away from the dark shadows of the garden and dragged her forcefully toward the front of the massive stone manor.
The winter wind howled around them. The snow was falling harder now, covering the ground in a thin, cold blanket of white. Marissa stumbled as they dragged her forward, her torn dress dragging in the wet snow.
Walking a few steps ahead of them was Ashlyn.
Ashlyn's back was straight, but her clothes were still bloody rags from the whipping she had received earlier. Despite her ruined appearance, she walked with a proud, victorious bounce in her step. She had finally won. She had captured the clever Marissa.
Marissa looked at her sister's back. She felt a deep sense of pity mixed with exhaustion.
