TFL ch. 22 

The sun is raising its head from off its pillow as I creep around the room, carefully watching Gwen’s sleeping figure.  Using the orange and pink rays of light coming in from the window to see, I slip into my plain brown tunic, its loose form and the cloth device hiding my feminine form relatively well.  Lifting my leathern breeches, I cringe as a wave of guilt creeps over me.  Eric, Jack, Gwen, Madame Carlisle—all would be completely against my plans.  “What they do not know, cannot hurt them.” I mutter to myself unconvincingly as I tie Castra’s sheath to my waist.  I dislike the fact that I must hurt them to do this task… but something has to be done!  I shake off my unreasonable guilt as I tie my hair into a bun at the nape of my neck.

Grabbing the doorknob, I ever so painstakingly turn it, striving to not make a single noise.  If Gwen wakes, then all my plans are ruined.  All I need are questions answered, something to tell the authorities of Sicota. I will let them be the heroes—but someone needs to get them moving.  As the door lets out a rebellious groan, I halt. Has Gwen woken up? With a glance over my shoulder, I see that she has not. “Phew.”

I step into the hallway and gently close the door, grinning.  So far, I have succeeded… to get out of my room.  Well, Amelia, that certainly is an accomplishment.  I survey the hallways. They seem mostly quiet as I slowly make my way toward the courtyard.  Down one hallway, up the next, left, right—this castle was certainly made to confuse people.  

“I am concerned for her highness, Princess Selina.” I pause.  That voice is incredibly familiar… “As am I. Queen Elise still wishes for Selina and mine’s marriage, but I am not convinced that is what Selina wishes.” I breathe in sharply. Eric cannot find me out here like this, and he and whoever he is with are quickly approaching this hallway!  I dash back the way I came.  Standing around the corner, I watch as they continue toward the training arena.  I recognize the other man as Sir Bentley, who replies, “I do not know if it is.  Is it yours?”  I hold my breath. What will he reply?  Leaning in, I barely make out the words, “I wish to honor my father’s plans.”  The two walk out of my range of hearing, but I would not have been able to comprehend another word.  He would marry her.  Eric would do the right thing for his country, for her family, for his.  Even if he were not going to marry her, I would have never been an option for him.  I was his sister in his mind-- in all actuality, his sister’s servant.  For him to ever even in look in my direction would be too much like a fairy tale. Tears sting my eyes once again as I lean against the wall.

My hand brushes Castra’s sheath.  What am I doing here, wallowing in pity for myself?  In my thoughts, I envision Sir Wilmington, shaking his head.  Why did they give his scimitar to such an emotional girl?  Did they expect her to defend Aspenvale? Clenching my teeth, I began again.  “I will not let this push me down!”

Rushing out into the courtyard, I hurry toward the eastern gate.  Servants scurry to and fro throughout the courtyard.  Stable boys brush down the horses, kitchen maids arrive to begin the breakfast, and guards greet each one.  Without the presence of the nobility, the courtyard seems obliging and happy, instead of formal and cold. I press on to the gate.  “Good morning!” I say cheerily to the guard.  He smiles at me and nods.  Yes! He let me-- “Wait a moment.” His deep voice resonates behind me.  I turn and smile, hoping that if I act sweet he will let me through without a problem.  “You are Jack’s friend, right?” 

“Yes, why?”

“He told me to hand you this when you came out early in the morning.” The guard holds out a small piece of paper.  Hesitantly, I take the note from him and read, “Lee, please be careful while you are out.  I know that telling you not to go would be useless, but I ask you please be aware of your surroundings.  In a few days, I will be going myself to work out our discovery. If you would wait… but I know you will not. Take care or Gwen will have my hide. Jack”

Ah, Jack. He knows me entirely too well. I thank the guard and make my way back to the orphan’s hideout. I constantly look over my shoulder, double back on my route, and listen for unusual sounds to satisfy Jack’s requests.  Finally, I arrive at Jelia Court, its miserable houses greeting me.  I look at the faded paper I had hidden in my boot. “Wesson— “Just reading his name sends shivers down my back. “Sixth, Jelia Court. Stair 3 Mat.”  I approach the steps that Jack and I had been on just two days ago.  My hands tremble as I push the door open. What would I find?  Dead bodies? People being tortured? Placing my hand on Castra, I gather my courage. Something has to be done about the atrocities that Teddy described.

I find the inside of the house to be rather clean in comparison to the ramshackle outside.  Where I expected to find rotting bodies, I found dusty carpets and dirty floors.  My tense muscles relax for a moment, then clench again in the darkness.  The maniac may keep a clean house, but Wesson still is a murderer and by the looks of it, a methodical one.

I move toward the stairs. “Stair 3” was what the paper said. Each step has a mat… That would explain the mat on the paper. I lift the third one. 

Nothing under it.  What was I expecting, to find a key to a chest or a map?! Honestly, I believe I am growing sentimental, thinking things are similar to fairytales? First Eric, now this—I turn back from the stairs. Again, I touch Castra and wonder what Sir Wilmington would do in this situation. “Walk up the stairs,” my mind answers. I climb the stairs until I reach the third stair from the top. Could there be something under it? I gently lift this one. A key!  Maybe things do occur like fairytales… I continue to the top floor. Opening the first door I come to, I find a room completely bare. The next door reveals a desk with paper scattered on top of it.  I walk to it and shuffle through the papers to find—something of importance.  My eyes fall on a letter with a handwriting I knew.  “Sir: The business is to be conducted within three days of the payment. Mobilize your wagons as soon as possible.  The transfer of goods must be perfect and completely unlinked to my name. I wish for it to be a surprise. – E.D.”

Edmund Darby… What business could he possibly have with the Melitan raiders?  Is it linked to Sir William Darby’s previous secret meeting?  My mind replays the events of that first escapade into Sicota.  Sir William disappeared into a house near the end of the street, a street very much like this one.  The stranger’s words, “Just awaiting your father’s signal,” and his reference to Sir William becoming king come rushing into my thoughts. Is this Lord Edmund’s signal?  Is this part of some conspiracy against the king?  Folding the letter, I—“Hello, Lovely.” The deep voice of a stranger cuts me off, as does the cool metal of a knife against my throat.

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DUN DUN DUN!!!!!  Hello lovelies! (hehehe) Aren’t the puzzle pieces falling into place nicely?? 

Question of the chappie: This is definitely one of my longer chapters. Do you prefer-

A. Longer chapters because they give more detail.

B. Shorter chapters because long ones are too much to read.

I prefer reading long chapters. (One of the books I’m reading on here had an 8000 word chapter!) But I have purposely shortened most of my chapters since some have said my first chapters were too long. Please comment your preference! It greatly helps me fulfill my desires and yours!

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