Chapter 10 - 9 - Scars Beneath the Silk
There was a wide gash across the woman’s abdomen. That was where all the blood soaking her body had come from.
But that wasn’t what made Riven freeze in place.
What made his breath catch was what surrounded that wound.
All around it—beneath her lower stomach, along her waistline, and up the sides of her ribs—were scars. Not fresh wounds. Old ones. Long, darkened marks, some raised like ridges, others faded to pale lines. Yet all of them were clearly visible under the faint glow of the room’s flickering lantern.
Whip lashes. Slashes. Burn marks.
Scars of torture.
The upper part of her body was riddled with them, crisscrossing like forgotten roads etched onto pale skin. Her flesh had become a canvas of suffering, every line a silent tale of pain. One particular scar stood out—a small, round brand just below her collarbone, as if someone had once pressed a searing piece of metal into her flesh.
What made it all feel so wrong, so disturbing, was the contrast.
The contrast between her outer beauty and the ruin hidden beneath her clothing.
She had the face of a goddess, hair like flowing flame, and skin on her neck and arms that remained pristine—soft, unmarred, perfect. The visible parts of her body appeared untouched, like nothing had ever harmed her. As if all the torment had been aimed precisely at the parts hidden beneath fine fabric.
The dress she wore—an opulent black gown embroidered with fine patterns and lace—wasn’t just a beautiful garment. It had been carefully chosen. Crafted, perhaps, to conceal the truth.