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Prince: of English origin; Royal son.
Paige: of English origin; Young servant.
There’s a line in the town I live in.
It’s invisible, this line. It’s also paper-thin and razor-sharp.
But it’s there.
For about nineteen years, I’ve lived on one side of it. On the south side. It’s the side with hardworking and honest people, but we don’t have a lot of money. We have run-down buildings and shabby front yards and houses that creak and shake in a strong wind.
The north side is that of the rich and the powerful. It’s the side with big houses, mowed lawns and expensive cars.
It’s the side I absolutely hate for a variety of reasons. But I’m not getting into that right now.
I have a mission, a very important mission.
For the past six months, I’ve been living on the topmost corner of the north side. Not by choice, mind you. But by circumstance.
I’ve been calling an estate called The Pleiades my home.
It’s named after the constellation of seven stars up in the sky. Probably because the palace-like mansion that sits on this estate has seven towers.
And tonight, my mission is to break into it. The mansion, I mean.
Well, to be honest, if you know the code of the service entrance, is it really breaking and entering?
I don’t think so.
It’s more like punching in the code and entering. Something I do every day.
The only difference is that every day I do it in broad daylight. But right now, I’m doing it under cover of darkness with my stealth mode on.
I’m wearing my black shorts, paired with a black hoodie that covers my bright blue hair, and quiet leather boots.
I’m like the night: dark and silent. Oh and hot. Temperature-wise.
Another thing to know about our town is that it’s always hot. It’s always muggy and humid. Summer is our perpetual weather, even in winter. Weirdly, The Pleiades is the hottest spot of all.
I’m sweating with all the black stuff that I have on. But it could also be the nervousness. It’s not every night that I punch in the code and enter like this.
But desperate times, desperate measures.
Not to mention, I can’t shake off the feeling that I’m being watched.
Stopping at the service entrance with my hand poised at the keypad, I look around for probably the tenth time since I headed out for my mission. But there’s no one there. The night’s dark and the lush grounds are quiet and lonesome.
Maybe paranoia comes with doing kinda shady stuff.
Sighing and turning back around, I hit the keys and enter the code. When the automatic door clicks open, I enter the small lobby-like thingy that has the stairs going down to the basement. To the servant’s wing.
Slowly, I climb down, avoiding the stairs that creak lest I wake up the night staff who are probably sleeping in the on-call rooms.
I reach the landing that gives way to a wide hallway, which is illuminated by tiny nightlights. Rooms flank it on either side. On-call rooms for the sleeping staff, the staff room where we have meetings and breaks, the head housekeeper’s office.
I walk slowly and without making a sound until I reach the other side of the hallway. There’s another staircase that takes us to the first floor. Again, I avoid the creaking ones as I climb up.
My destination is tower three, located all the way in the east.
It takes me about seven minutes to journey through all the rooms and passages on the first floor: the ballroom, the rose room, the yellow sitting room, the private dining room and whatnot.
Then I come upon the sprawling stairs that will take me to tower three, where the guest wing is. As I climb up yet again, I thrust my hands in my pockets to see if I still have my weapon.
Yup, it’s there.
I feel the edges of the pouch and smile in the darkness.
Now that I’m so close to my destination, I can’t wait. I literally can’t wait.
My feet are faster and my breaths are coming out in pants. I’m swimming in adrenaline. I feel alive. Like I have more than one life in me. More than one heart and two sets of lungs.
Calm down, Cleo.
I can’t slip up now and have someone bust me. Not when I’m so close to my goal.
Finally, finally, after all the traveling and walking and climbing, I reach it. The exact guest room I was looking for.
“Okay.” I puff out a breath and glance from side to side. “You’re so dead, you fucker.”
I fish the keys that will get me into the room out from my pocket.
The tiny silver-colored key.
Okay, so yeah, this might be a little against the law. Like, maybe ten percent against it.
The keys in my pocket don’t belong to me. I swiped them from Mrs. Stewart, the head housekeeper’s, office right after my shift ended.
