Chapter 4
I’ve been around the entire estate four times and made a dozen unsuccessful attempts to climb the stone fence by the time the sun starts to set.
I’m not positive where I am without a map, but I’m sure I’ve never heard of any nobility living in this area. But whoever owns this place is clearly rich and powerful enough to require a giant fence to protect it.
No one has come out to search for me since I arrived, but that doesn’t give me any comfort. Whoever lives here is unlikely to let an interloper go freely wandering about their property. And the man from before was right.
I am locked in.
I’ve tried the gate twice, but it won’t budge. Even the hair pin I keep in the bun that holds back half of my brown, chest length hair was useless, which rankled me because I consider myself a fairly accomplished lockpick.
There aren’t any other gates or doors on the property and as darkness begins to descend, I’m feeling desperate. My only source of comfort is the knowledge that if I can’t get out, Jareth can’t get in.
Tapping my leg where the quill is hidden in my boot, I glare at the stone wall. It’s too tall for me to climb—I’ve fallen four times trying. But an oak tree grows close by, a lone branch hanging out over the wall…
I have exactly one chance at freedom, and I’m not going to let a fence stand in my way.
My bag strapped to my shoulders, I hike myself up the tree, my rough hands gripping the bark with the help of the battle-worn callouses on my fingers. A few birds chirp as I invade their home, taking to the dimming sky above.
“Believe me, I want to be here about as much as you want me here,” I mumble.
Once I’m on the overhanging branch, I have to squeeze it between my thighs to keep myself from slipping off as I wiggle toward the fence. Freedom looms on the horizon, the forest and far off farmland spread out in the distance.
Just a little farther. I push myself along the branch, grinning when I reach the wall. Careful and slow, I slip down onto the stone, sitting on the ledge. But when I try to swing myself over, my legs freeze like they’re blocked by an invisible force.
Confused, I try again. But something stops me, like I’ve hit an invisible wall. I squint but see no obstacle, yet when I press my hands forward, they stop as though they’ve met glass.
“What the—”
“You won’t be able to get out that way.”
Alarmed, I turn and see a middle-aged woman walking quickly through the grass, a friendly look on her face. Her blonde hair is mostly grey, pulled up into a loose bun, lacking the severity I often see from the maids at the duke’s castle.
“Why not?” I ask warily. The woman looks kind. Doesn’t mean she is.
“It won’t let you.”
“It?” I ask incredulously. “What does that mean—”
But something pulls me forward, cutting me off and nearly sending me careening to the ground. I grasp hold of the branch above to keep myself steady, but then I feel it again. A tug in my chest that urges me forward like I’ve been attached to a marionette string.
“This is why I came out,” the woman says worriedly, lifting her hands as though she could actually catch me if I were to fall. “I was afraid it would happen when you were unaware and send you to your death.”
Unable to fight off the pull, I climb down the tree, stumbling as the invisible string jerks me along the way. “What is ‘it’?” I demand when my feet hit the ground. The tug continues, pulling me toward the manor, and I have no choice but to be dragged forward.
“It’s the curse,” the woman says, following beside me. “I’ll explain it all later, but right now you have to go to dinner with the master.”
“Excuse me?” I squeak, sitting on the ground to try and slow the pull that’s straining against my chest. It does nothing against the invisible string, simply dragging me along the grass on my backside.
I try to stop myself, snatching clumps of grass and dirt, but it’s not enough and I stand before the magic can scrape my body against the stone stairs. I stumble up the steps to the open front doors and trip inside, not moving fast enough to keep up with the pull.
“Just go in, sit down and eat,” the woman encourages, following me through the foyer and down a hall to another set of double doors. “He’ll likely ignore you altogether, and then afterward I can explain things. But for now, you have to go inside. The curse requires that you dine together.”
“Who is he? And what curse?” I beg, panicked.
“It will be over before you know it.” Then she pats my hand affectionately, gives me a kind smile, and disappears back down the hall.
I try to follow after her, but I can’t move except closer to the doors. My body pulsing with fury, I glare at the looming doors, but the invisible string tethered to my chest yanks hard and I trip forward, shoving them open.
Inside is a dining room. A ridiculously long table sits in the center, adorned with gold candlesticks, shining silverware, and a table runner embroidered with gold and green. The room is opulent, scrollwork accents the curtained windows, and the mantle around the large fireplace is carved with roses and bears.
And sitting at the head of the long table is the man from the gate.
His hair is combed now, laying in perfect fluttering layers of silky light brown around his face. His strong jaw clenches as he watches me enter and I wonder if he’s capable of a real smile.
“You’re late,” is all he has to say, his tone lazy and disinterested.
I say nothing, staring at him where he sits at the other end of the long table.
“Stand if you want, but you can’t leave until the curse deems that we’ve spent enough time in each other’s unfortunate presence.” He lifts an unamused brow, raising his water glass.
Frustration begins to override my desire to run and I sit on the plush chair, reclining back on the velvet like I have nowhere better to be, my bag nestled at my feet. The man across from me gives me a once over.
The scrunch of his nose tells me he finds me lacking.
For some reason, this angers me more than being held captive. Being treated like a caged bird, I’m used to, but being looked at like a moldy steak is new. And undeserved.
I have little use for my own beauty in my circumstances, but I know it exists. I feel it every time one of the guards at the castle stares a little too long regardless of my station. Every time a child smiles eagerly at me, innocently believing that someone who looks nice must be nice. Green eyes and freckles combined with dark hair that curls and waves to my chest is an appealing combination to most people.
Obviously, the man across from me disagrees.
“Your room is on the opposite side of the manor from mine,” he drawls, that disdainful look on his face. “That’s on purpose. Your stay here is not of my doing nor is it my wish. So, while you’re here, stay on your side of the manor and out of my way. We will eat evening meals together, but otherwise I expect to forget that you exist.”
“Ah, so you’re one of those men,” I say despite the warning bells in my head signaling me to keep my mouth shut. I never listen to them. “The ones who think their every expectation should be met without argument.”
“In my home, yes,” he sasses, a smirk deepening the dimple in his left cheek. “Will that be a problem?”
I shrug and smile, innocently batting my eyes. “Not for me. For you, probably.”
His eyes narrow as he studies me, and I get the feeling that I’ve amused him. But just as the thought enters my mind, he looks down at a book beside his plate.
“We’ll see,” he mumbles.
My smile widens and I eat my food with vigor. He thinks I’m a bird locked up in a cage. Useless and annoying.
He’s forgetting that birds have talons.
The man abruptly leaves the room after about half an hour, his food gone and a book under his arm. He’s dressed simply for someone so self-important, but I suspect it’s because he doesn’t have the patience to dress in something less comfortable. Patience, humility, grit—he has none of it.
He’s a pampered princess who has a penchant for breaking his toys. He shouldn’t be too difficult to deal with. It’s this supposed curse that will be my real problem.
Once the man is gone, the woman from earlier steps into the room, looking sheepish.
“I apologize for whatever he said to you,” she says, offering me an apologetic smile. “I’m Mildred, the housekeeper. But most everyone calls me Milly.”
I stand, debating whether or not to give her my real name. Jareth may come looking for me eventually, but I doubt he’ll be willing to reveal my name to anyone. Plus, it would be nice to not have to lie for once.
“Stella,” I say, shaking her hand and sliding my bag back over my shoulders. “And I appreciate the apology, he needed it.”
Milly sighs, shaking her head. “Alistair can be…a challenge. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with him.”
“I can think of a few things.”
Milly laughs, smiling thoughtfully at me. “I like you. You’ll survive well against him.” When my expression drops, she rushes to reassure me. “Oh, he won’t hurt you, that’s not what I meant. He can just be very stubborn sometimes—and rude. But I don’t think you’ll be intimidated by him, which is good because it means that he won’t be able to push you around while you’re here.”
“And just how long will I be here? You mentioned a curse.”
The housekeeper deflates, motioning for me to follow as she heads out into the hall. “The master—Alistair—is cursed. It’s a long story, and unfortunately, we’re woefully uneducated on the matter. I’ll answer any questions you have about it, but not until tomorrow when you’ve had the chance to sleep. You look like you’re in need of it.” I blush, embarrassed that their first impression of me is after I”ve been sleeping in a forest for over a week.
“But for now,” Mildred continues, leading us past stone halls lit by sconces, almost every window cloaked in drapes, “I’ll just say that neither you nor the master can leave the manor.”
“But I saw him in the forest,” I argue, following her around a corner.
“He can leave the grounds temporarily,” she replies evasively. “But you cannot. While I don’t think we’ve ever had a woman here as determined as you, even you won’t be able to find a way off the property during your stay. And every evening at sundown, you and the master will both be pulled back to the dining room. So, leaving would be a moot point anyway.”
“Other women have been stuck here too?”
“Yes, many. But they all leave perfectly safe.” She blinks, seemingly bothered by her own words.
“How did they leave?”
Mildred pauses outside a closed door. “They could leave after three months. The same will be true for you.”
“Three months?” I demand, all my dreams of freedom fluttering away. “I can’t stay here for three months.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. You can’t leave until then. We can post mail for you if you require it, and you’re welcome to explore the manor as much as you please. But until the three months are up, you’re stuck.”
She unlocks the door and disappears inside, and I hesitate a moment before going in after her. The room is just as beautiful as the rest of the manor, gilded in gold and lined with stone. A fire is already burning in the fireplace, and a painting of a landscape hangs above it. There’s a plush green bed with a matching silk canopy. And in front of the fire is a sofa and a set of chairs.
The room is beautiful but far too extravagant. Hands as bloody as mine shouldn’t touch a place like this. I feel guilty just standing here.
“The bath is hot, there are soaps on the table, and a clean set of pajamas on the bed,” Mildred says, pointing to a tub that sits beneath a window, moonlight streaming down into the second story room. “I didn’t think you would want assistance.”
“I don’t, thank you,” I say sincerely, thankful that I don’t have to fight her on the matter.
“Well, just ring the bell if you need anything,” she nods to a rope by the door. “Otherwise, breakfast is usually at ten. I can have it brought to you—”
“I’ll find the kitchen.” I mean the words to be polite, but they sound like a rejection.
I cringe, but Mildred doesn’t seem offended by it. She simply smiles and wishes me a goodnight before leaving the room.
The moment she’s gone, I feel the weight of the morning settling on my shoulders. It feels longer than six days since I ran from Jareth. But I’d be na?ve to pretend that time has stopped, that they won’t come for me.
And if Mildred is right, they’ll have three months to find me.
But I decide that it’s a problem for tomorrow and stare longingly at the bed. It’s been years since I’ve slept in a bed that didn’t feel tainted by the man who owned it or the money that paid for it. I may be a captive here, held by a supposed curse, but for the first time since I was a child, I don’t feel like a prisoner.
So just for tonight, I put the scented oils in my bath and snuggle in the soft pajamas, letting myself pretend that I belong to no one but myself.