“Unfortunately.” We both laughed. “That bitch.”
“If I were allowed to wander the castle as I pleased, I’d fetch those biscuits myself.”
Wrena laughed. “What do they think would happen if you roamed the castle?” My shoulders rose in a shrug. “Are they intentionally keeping you from meeting the other Initiates and from leaving your rooms?”
“I’m not sure. I met them all for the first time yesterday. I was told to request a handmaiden should I need anything, and that I was never to wander on my own.”
“Strange, it hasn’t been a requirement for past Initiates,” she offered.
My head snapped to her. “Are you saying the other Initiates are not confined to their quarters?” She winced, offering an apologetic squeeze of my arm.Unbelievable.Shit was getting worse and worse. I wouldn’t let that thought fester though. I couldn’t. “Itismy last night…” She shot me a look. “And I’ve seen only a small corner of this castle. My room, Castemont Hall, and the entry hall and one dining room. Nothing beyond that.” Well, a little beyond that, but I was keeping that to myself.
“You’re not suggesting–”
“No, I’m not suggesting. I’mtellingyou that tonight, my very last night alive, I am going to leave these quarters and fetch my own damn biscuits from the kitchens. Maybe take a stroll.” I shrugged my shoulders.
“That doesn’t sound like a good idea,” Wrena said, genuine worry lacing her voice.
“Who cares? I’m going todietomorrow.”
“And how do you suppose you’re going to get past the guards outside your door? Outside Castemont Hall? Do you even know how to get to the kitchens?”
“No, but you do.”
“Petra, as your handmaiden, I can’t condone–”
“Well then I’m releasing you of your handmaiden duties early. You’re now my friend.”
“Then as your friend, I can’t condone this.”
“Fine, then you’re my handmaiden. And your ladycommandsyou to accompany her on a grand adventure to the kitchens.” I saw the knowing in her eyes. She knew I was going to do it whether she helped me or not.
Exasperated, she sat up. “You sure?” she asked.
“Absolutely.”
???
The idea that the main doors to my quarters were guarded but the service entrance was not seemed beyond foolish. Did they think that my Inkwellian upbringing made me too stupid to consider escaping through the service halls? Wrena had vanished for a moment, returning with a bundle under her arm. “Here,” she said, motioning for me to put on the handmaiden’s uniform.
“Brilliant,” I smiled, stripping out of my nightgown and stepping into the same pale blue frock as she did the same. She opened the service door and ushered me through.
“This will take us straight to the kitchens. You go in, grab the biscuits, and you come out. Got it?” Her sternness was surprising, and I realized that I may not face the consequences of this night after tomorrow, but she would. I nodded, a sudden sick feeling pounding through my veins and pooling in my stomach. I took a deep breath and steadied myself, walking behind Wrena through the dark, narrow halls. It was eerily quiet, and I realized it must be far past midnight.
We descended a small flight of stairs and turned right, a long corridor ahead of us. Wrena was silent as she made one last left turn and stopped in front of a door. “Back wall with the windows, to the left, in a white ceramic jar. Get back here as quickly as you can,” she whispered. The urgency in her voice made my skin crawl.
I had to do this. My last night on this earth would not be spent in the same place I had been for the last four months. This small, insignificant rebellion would make me feel whole, if just for one moment, before I was dumped at the Onyx Pass or left to bleed out on the floor of the throne room.
I cracked the heavy wooden door open, peering through. Large windows looked over the north side of Eserene, the torches on top of the walls glowing orbs in the distance. Moonlight poured in, illuminating the dull stone floors as if the Benevolent Saints shone directly through the windows. Rows of counters and tables and ovens filled the room, the faintest smell of garlic hanging in the air. I stepped through the door, closing it softly behind me, feeling the frantic energy from Wrena piercing through the wood.
Back wall with the windows. Behind a row of counters, I saw a table in the corner with a hodgepodge of items — stacked plates and spare silverware and a pile of napkins and–
A white ceramic jar. I padded silently across the kitchen, relishing the savory feeling of defiance, of rebellion, of–
Voices. I hit the floor, ducking behind the counter as a male voice grew closer, louder. I saw another door a dozen feet to the left of the door I had slipped through.Please, Saints, no.I waited on my hands and knees, ready to pivot the moment they entered the kitchens, ready to keep in the shadows like I had so many times on the streets of Inkwell.
The door burst open. “Twenty-four years. That’s what, 120, 140 Initiates?” That voice was…
Castemont. What the fuck was he doing here? I made a conscious effort to keep my mouth shut, keep my legs from carrying me across the room and launching myself at him.