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She's quiet for a moment before asking, "You plan on doing it again tomorrow, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Did you learn anything?"
"Maybe. I'm not sure. But there are some that don't use their own cruelty in court. I want to observe them more. See if there's more."
She lets out a small sigh, "Be careful."
"Of course."
The next morning, she distracts the women with questions about the guards as I slip from the room. I pull on the maid's dress before slipping from the servant's corridor. My feet carry me through the castle as I take in everything that I can. I don't come across the kind wolf again, though I do have the misfortune of watching the Grey Prince slap a woman one day. The next I pull up short when I see him throwing a goblet at a maid as she cowers across the room from him. I wince as it bounces off her before clattering to the ground.
I don't seek him out, but I always seem to come across him. My body grows tenser with each new thing I witness him do. But I also learn more about those around him. I watch the maids whose hands fist at their sides when he screams at a young boy that trips. I note the guards that clench their jaws when his fingers linger on a young maid's hair. Their faces get committed to my memory so that I can remember those that looked just as disgusted as I feel.
At the same time, I note that get a gleam in their eyes when the Grey Prince corners a young woman in a room. Pressing her to the wall, caging her in with his body, they grin at one another. Or those that hide laughs when the prince is unsatisfied with his meal and tosses his knives at the young pages serving him.
14
Rose
Days pass with me slipping away from the hall. The women start to whisper that the Grey Prince has forgotten about us. I think he's just waiting for us to get comfortable before he makes his next move. I continue to slip away from them, leaving to snoop around the castle as I gather as much intel as I can. Lyra always meets my eyes when I return, her curiosity and worry a strange mix.
"You have dust in your hair," Lyra tells me as we pull on our nightgowns.
Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair. I'm distracted by getting the dust, and all other evidence of my daily excursions, from my hair that I don't notice that four of the women have approached us. When I glance up, I meet their eyes. None of them are smiling as they watch me for a moment. I saw nothing, letting them make the first move.
"We know what you do," Isabelle tells me.
"During the day," Sophia clarifies. "We see you slip away. We know you don't stay here all day."
Ava, a tall and thin brunette, nods. "And we want you to help us."
"Help you?" I ask.
"We want to escape," Hazel says as she toys with her strawberry blonde curls.
The four of them watch me as I frown. My eyes move to Lyra, who has distanced herself from them. Her eyes are wide as she stares at me, subtly shaking her head. I see her worry of us getting caught bright on her face. For once, I agree with her.
"It's too risky," I tell the women.
"That doesn't stop you from slipping away. Every day. I'm sure the guards and Ms. Thompson would love to know about that," Isabelle says as she crosses her arms, a small smirk pulling at her lips.
I narrow my eyes at her. "One person slipping away is less noticeable than five. The halls are swarming with guards, and I've come across the Grey Prince too many times for comfort. We'll be caught."
"Let us worry about that," Sophia says. "All you have to do is show us how to get out of here."
"We want to go back to our lives. We have family and friends waiting for us back home. I don't want to be here anymore," Hazel tells me, her eyes growing misty with the thought of everything she'd left behind.
I sigh, "I understand that, but I can't help you. Don't you think if I could escape that I would have already?"
"We don't get why you haven't when you slip away every day. But we know you can help us. And you will. Unless you want Ms. Thompson to learn about your daily activities," Sophia tells me, her eyes flashing with a silent warning.
Grinding my teeth together, I stare at them. It's clear that they won't hesitate to go to Ms. Thompson. Either I help them, or they'll ensure that I can't help anyone. I'm tempted to explain to them what I do when I slip away, but I realize they don't care. It only matters that I know how to get out of here. That's all they care about.
"Fine," I say.
Isabelle smiles. "Good. Tomorrow night should be the perfect chance, don't you think?"
