Chapter Nine
Belle
A day goes by, then two .
Nothing happens. I’m not even questioned about my alleged role in this alleged treason that I’m supposed to be a part of. I get three meals a day from a guard, sit and eat them at my room’s tiny table .
After an hour or so, he comes and collects my dishes. That’s all the human interaction I get .
At least there are plenty of books. That was the one request I made that they honored, and now I’ve got at least twenty novels in here. Good thing I tend to prefer books to people, since that’s what I’ve got now .
Or at least, I’ve been pretending to read, and to be fair, I do read a lot .
But I’ve also been thinking. Watching. Noticing .
Spending a lot of time mentally tracking the noises of the guards outside as they change shifts .
Spending a lot of time staring out the window, thinking about ways that I could get down. The bed in here is a king-size, and by making it every day I’ve estimated the diagonal length at about twelve feet .
I’ve got two flat sheets, a fitted one, and a duvet cover. I’m about three stories up .
I think it’s enough .
The stone pathway down below isn’t well-guarded — just a guard at either end, a few hundred feet away, and they change around midnight. I think I can get down with no problem .
That’s as far as I’ve gotten, though. I don’t know what happens once I’m out of this room and there’s a sheet rope announcing the fact that I’ve escaped. I have no idea where to hide or how to get off grounds, but I’ll think of a plan on my feet .
Then, as fast as I can, I get to my father’s friends. He knows plenty of people who’ll protect me and who’ll raise hell about the prince taking someone prisoner without due process or any evidence at all. If I can get across a border to a friendly country, I’ll probably be fine .
Besides, I have to get out of here. I don’t know what Julian has in mind for me, but I know it’s something .
It’s something dark and deep and forbidden. Something that whispers its promises in the dark .
And I’m afraid that if I don’t leave, I’ll give it to him .
And like it .
* * *
At 11:30, I take the sheets off the bed. I turned the lights out an hour ago and pretended to sleep, stirring every so often so the guards in the hall wouldn’t think I was faking it .
I tie the corners together as securely as I can, tugging them tight. I remember reading once that to get a really secure knot this way, you should wet the sheets and then let them dry, but I don’t have time for that .
At 11:55, I gather up the rope of sheets and stand next to the window. As quietly as I can, I tie one end of my rope to the bedpost, then pull the shades up over the window .
It’s cloudy, the moon just barely glimmering through, which should make it easier for me. In full moonlight, the white sheets would practically be a beacon .
Quietly, I open the window. Quietly, teeth clenched against the possibility of making a sound, I pull on the window screen as hard as I dare .
Then I pull harder. And harder. The thing’s not budging, and for a quick moment I wonder if it’s glued in place, if this was all in vain, but then it practically flies out with a pop and a scrape and I go stumbling backward, right into the side of the bed .
I freeze. I’m weirdly crouched, the screen held in my hands, terrified that the guards are going to come in and find me at the worst possible time, clearly about to escape but barely even started yet .
But nothing happens. Either they’re not listening, or I timed this well, right for the changing of the guards. I push the screen under the bed, trying not to make any more noise, and stand up straight, looking outside .
Nothing. These windows don’t have bars, which seems like quite an oversight to me, but I’m not sure these rooms were ever intended to hold prisoners. They’re not cells, after all .
I take a deep breath, sitting on the window ledge, and wrap the sheet around my shoulder. I’ve never tried anything like this before, and I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I know that I need to try .
I give the makeshift rope a tug. The bedframe creaks slightly but holds, because it’s enormous and probably at least three times as heavy as I am. My heart hammers in my chest, and I’m starting to feel like the dinner I had might come back up .
Despite all that, I look out the window. Neither of the guards are in their positions right now because they’re switching shifts, so for about thirty seconds, the coast is clear .
That means I have to go now , ignoring my rabbit heart and my sweaty palms, ignoring the fact that it would be so easy for me to fall to my death or at least my paralysis on the stone walkway below .
I grab the window sill in both hands, then move my other leg over the side. The makeshift rope tightens against my shoulder. I take a deep breath and grab it with one hand just above a thick knot, bracing my knees and feet against the stone wall, knuckles still white as I hold onto the window .
Then I grab the sheets with my other hand and let go, eyes squeezed shut against the possibility that I’m wrong about all this and I’m about to fall to my death .
I don’t fall .
I jerk back unpleasantly, because there’s more give in the rope than I thought there would be, but I don’t fall. It squeezes my shoulder, where the sheets are looped around me, but it holds .
Don’t look down , I tell myself. Whatever you do, don’t look down .
And hurry, you don’t have long .
Eyes glued to the wall, I brace my feet against it, knuckles pure white where I’m clutching the sheets with both hands. I force myself to start walking backward, down the wall, the sheets sliding uncomfortably against my shoulder, abrading the skin there even through my thin shirt .
Don’t look down .
I keep going. It can’t be that much further now, can it? I didn’t think my room was that high up, but every terrifying step feels like ten feet, so now I must be close .
I force myself to stop thinking about it. I force myself to stop thinking anything and just move, ignoring the pain in my hands and in my shoulder .
And then finally, finally , there’s solid stone beneath me. I find the ground with one foot and nearly collapse in a heap with relief, taking a single moment to stand upright, shake out my hands, rest my forehead against the cool stone of the wall and be thankful that I didn’t fall .
But I have to go. My legs feel like rubber, but I force my feet to move, quickly and quietly along the wall, toward the guard post to the north. From what I’ve seen over the last two days that guard looks a little younger, seems a little more easily distracted .
He’s not there. No one is .
I stop, my back to the castle wall, and I try to think but my mind is racing .
I have to get out of here, I have to get to safety, I have to tell someone what happened …
Just go, your chances are slim anyway .
I dart around the corner, acting on instinct, and then skid to a halt instantly .
Someone’s standing there, someone wide and tall and commanding, and in that second, I know I’ve lost. My dramatic escape down the wall was for nothing .
I take a step back only for someone to suddenly grab me by both arms, halting me in place. My heartrate spikes, and I look around wildly, at the two guards on either side of me, at the castle walls rising above .
At the man I nearly ran into, and I feel a bead of sweat make its way down my neck and between my breasts .
“Are you not enjoying your stay with us?” Prince Julian asks .