CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX #2
The golden brown crust of the pie cracked satisfyingly as I cut off a bite-sized piece.
I exhaled sharply through my mouth when the first bite was too hot, but depths, it was delicious, even as it seared my tongue.
The gravy was thick and seasoned with herbs I vaguely recognized but could not name.
Ekko’s lessons were going about as well as Tilda’s had, in that regard, for I was not a quick study.
These were common herbs of the forest, I knew that much.
At least I recognized the meat. Rabbit had never been my favorite, but Ekko’s methods were persuasive, to say the least.
I had just dabbed a chunk of buttered bread into the meat pie’s gravy when footsteps once again sounded in the hallway beyond my chamber.
I wasn’t usually this attentive to the movements of the tavern, yet the day’s oddities had me on edge.
When the footsteps did not pass by my room, I dropped the bread onto my plate and twisted on the stool to study my door, where I saw the shadow of someone standing just outside.
Was it Winnie, ensuring that I stayed in my room for the night? Or possibly Gallia having forgotten something?
But a knock never came. I watched with bated breath as the shadow stood there, frozen in time.
My loudening heartbeat prompted me to confront whoever lurked beyond my door, but just as I stood to make my presence known, a series of metallic scrapes and clicks shocked my nerves.
It sounded as though a lock had fallen into place, but I would have noticed if there were a latching mechanism on the outside of my chambers.
With newfound urgency, I all but threw myself up against the door, pulling on the handle with abandon. But it wouldn’t budge.
I wasn’t imagining it. Someone had locked me inside.
“Hello?” I called, slamming my palm on the dark wood several times. “Whoever you are, unlock this door at once!”
Unthinkingly, I dropped to my knees, pressing my cheek against the cold floorboards to get a look under the door.
I could only see the bottoms of a pair of dark boots.
It could have been anyone—but who would go through the trouble of locking me in when I had no intention of leaving my room in the first place?
Had my identity been discovered? Someone from Lunamor could have made their way to Grenythwood, spotted me out and about in the village, and waited for the perfect moment—a closed tavern and an otherwise occupied village—to trap me in my bedchamber and await reinforcements.
I bid the paranoia away. If one of my father’s employ had the ability to cross the Threshold and the village’s veil, I would have been retrieved a dozen times over by now. Perhaps this was nothing more than a cruel joke.
“I can see you,” I said to the boots, still-growing anger pitching my voice. “Identify yourself!”
The ensuing silence thickened, and those damned boots didn’t budge.
I was starting to feel rather defeated. I had no power.
Quite similar to every other situation I’d ever found myself in, come to think of it.
And why? Why did I always have to be so helpless?
I’d hoped training as a Sentinel would mitigate those feelings of inadequacy, but with each failed challenge, it only served to highlight them.
I was constantly at the mercy of those around me, and I always had been.
Why had I thought anything would be different now?
Perhaps being a princess wasn’t what had held me back all those years, as I’d initially thought.
Maybe incapable and ineffective really were apt words to describe me, as Linus would joyously claim day after day, year after year.
With a shaky inhale, I lifted into a sitting position and slammed my back against the door. Damn whoever locked me in. Damn them to the depths.
“Could you at least tell me why?” I asked through gritted teeth, completely incapable of stifling my annoyance.
But those stupid boots’ footsteps were the only reply I received as they sauntered down the hall, towards the stairs leading to the common area. Leaving me here. Alone. Prisoner in my own bedchamber.
After some time of sitting on the floor, too enraged to return to my supper, my eye sockets began feeling sore from the scowl that pinched them.
“This is…” I searched for the most vulgar description I could muster, pulling a rather colorful phrase from one of Catrin’s books, “…a steaming pile of troll shit!”
If I weren’t so livid, I might have laughed at myself. It wasn’t very princess-like to curse, so I hadn’t much practice, and the words felt foreign and silly on my tongue. Still, I couldn’t summon enough levity for a smile, so the tautness of my gaze relaxing somewhat would have to suffice.
I puffed out my cheeks in a too-large exhale, pushing myself from the floor as I made my way back to my table.
My pie would be lukewarm by now, but lukewarm supper was better than no supper.
I stood by the table, staring at the slow-cooked rabbit chunks swimming in gravy, but all I could think of was how long it might take for someone to notice I was locked in here.
Winnie and Catrin had both been so busy not answering my questions that neither one had mentioned how long the blood pit went on for.
If every tavern inhabitant were attending, I might be trapped for the entire evening.
Perhaps even longer. I hadn’t planned to leave my bedchamber regardless, but not leaving of my own accord and being unable to leave were two very different matters indeed.
Instead of sitting on my stool, I found myself peering beyond the green curtain of my window once more, surveying the darkness below.
The crowd seemed to have moved on, the flames of their torches dancing in the distance as they made their way through the village.
But something in the shadows caught my eye.
A cloaked figure, dashing from the tavern towards the dawdlers of the crowd.
My lips parted in surprise. If they were the one to lock my chamber door…
then it must have been to keep me from the blood pit.
The blood pit I had already decided I wouldn’t be attending.
That meant it wasn’t a Lunamorian or a Hollow that had locked me in here. It was someone from Grenythwood. Quite likely, a person with whom I’d been acquainted.
A safer—and as a result, much more annoying—prospect.
I watched as a few trailing torches sliced through the night, eyes narrowed and mind turning. Before I could fully comprehend my own actions, I was ripping apart my bedding with haste, inconsiderately making a mess as I honed my focus.
Lock me in my own room. The sheer audacity of such an action could only summon a mirrored, reckless reaction. As I readied a makeshift rope, a smirk pulled at the corners of my mouth.
It seemed I had learned something as a Sentinel after all.