The atmosphere shifts and they both feel it. Elisabeta passes a hand over Marienne's wrist, searching her eyes.

"I am afraid, Lizzie." Marienne turns her head to an expanse of forest green. "I am afraid of what marital duties I may have to perform. And I am even more afraid of what comes next. I'm afraid of carrying a child, but I'm even more afraid of then raising that child, and then my fear increases at the thought of my child growing up to be as cruel as his father—I know Charles will have more influence than I.

I keep trying to imagine that it will get better with time—perhaps I'll get used to it and simply settle for my lot in life—but what really terrifies me is that, the more I look into the future, the worse things get.

You told me that it's not all bad and painted a pretty picture of how our life could be. I've been trying to see it like how you do, Lizzie, but I can't. And I'm sorrowful, but I simply can't. I don't understand how." Marienne's voice rises, a fervent glint in her eye. "Tell me how."

Elisabeta grips her hand in the same desperation. "I know I've been trying to have a positive outlook. It's the only thing I could do to get through it without breaking. I thought I could put your mind at ease—if only I could imagine us being happy in our imprisonment. If only we could believe there was a cage that could work to our benefit. But I don't believe in any of it, Marienne. I'm lying too. I've been lying.

Men can be cruel; some more than others. I fear Charles falls into the worser category." Elisabeta pauses, sucks on her teeth. "Do you know when we were children, he would collect bugs and mice? I thought he was playing—just how little boys do. But then I found them. I found them in his room. He was performing," Elisabeta shudders, "some type of experiment on them. He had placed a block of cheese in the center of an obstacle course. The first to get it he would declare the victor, rewarding them with treats.

But those who went off course he would nail to the floorboards. I can still remember the sound of his laughter as the mice started to squeal."

"That is reprehensible." Marienne's voice is quiet. There is nothing left to say.

Elisabeta's eyes shine with fresh tears. "Perhaps I didn't tell you the extent of it because I was trying to protect you. I'm still trying to protect you. But there's nothing I can do—I'm helpless! I never want to feel helpless like this."

"I know what you mean. A part of me has morbid thoughts. They're dark and powerful—and they make me feel powerful. Perhaps they should scare me but they excite me instead. Do you know what I mean?"

"I'd sell my soul and I'd do so gladly; anything, if it means being with you." Elisabeta swears. "There's nothing that could tear us apart, my darling. Not marriage, nor my brother. Not Death herself." Her small hand cups Marienne's cheek and she places a sweet kiss upon it.

"I love you Elisabeta," Marienne replies simply though her heart threatens to beat right out of her chest. "I may be marrying someone else tomorrow, but I'm your bride—and you are mine."