All the Queen's Angels

Chapter 8: Whisked Away

Leander doesn't put me down when we reach the top of the stairs, and he refuses to let go of me until we reach my room.

"That way you can't throw yourself down the stairs to get away from me," he sneers. Daphne hesitates.

"Boys aren't allowed in the girls' wing..." she says uncertainly. Leander's muscular arms tighten around me.

"Trust me, I don't want to spend more time with this mad woman than I have to," he assures her. Satisfied, Daphne leads us through the right wing on second floor and to my bedroom.

The walls are similar to the sitting room, with dark paneling and pale flower wallpaper. A canopied bed, wardrobe, and dressing table are on the right, with a fireplace and bathroom door on the left. There's a small seating area by the windows on the opposite wall. A crowd of servants fills the room.

"Good luck!", Leander snickers and leaves me at the mercy of the maids crowding the room.

The next few moments go by in a blur. I'm stripped naked, shoved into a tub, and scrubbed down within an inch of my life. As they massage my hair and clean my fingernails, I look around. The bathroom is small but elegant, with a claw foot tub and toilet on one wall and a sink beneath high windows on the other. Suddenly I'm doused in more water, pulled out of the tub, and wrapped in a plush robe. Then the maids take me back into the bedroom and push me into a chair by the dressing table.

Daphne sweeps in with an identical robe and her hair in curlers and flings open the wardrobe as maids begin combing and arranging my hair. She gasps.

"I-It's empty?", she exclaims in horror. Without waiting for an explanation, she swishes back into the hall and returns with armfuls of dresses, fabrics, shoes, and jewels while the maids are finishing my makeup.

"Where did you get all that?", I ask as the maids pull me to the seating area to face a floor-length mirror.

"Oh the girls all lent you some things to choose from," Daphne responds as she arranges the borrowed clothes on my bed. "We'll have the seamstress make you some clothes of your own soon, though."

The next hour involves countless gowns and pins poking my skin, too-tall heels and slippers that pinch my feet, and one particular pair of earrings that feel like they were made of lead. Just as I'm about to collapse from exhaustion, my reflection catches my eye.

The pale lavender gown sweeps down from the intricately beaded bodice to where the hem is embroidered with flowers. The sleeves are sheer, tulle maybe, and rest below my shoulders to end at embroidered cuffs.

"Whose dress is this?", I ask Daphne.

"I believe it is Penthia's," she says. "She's a good friend of General Amaryllis." I make a mental note to thank her. I can't imagine what the rest of her wardrobe is like.

A silver choker with a deep purple brooch accents the matching earrings and the dark tint on my lips. There's only one thing missing...

From the mess I pluck a silver diadem with inlaid amethysts and set it atop my hair, styled with soft curls. The purple hue compliments my violet eyes.

"Ohh it's perfect, Evangeline!", she squeals. "All the boys will be lining up for your hand—." She pauses. My eyes widen in the mirror.

My hand? As in, my hand in marriage? I whip around to find her staring at the clock.

"Heavens you have to hurry or you'll be late!", she gasps. Without another word she hurries back to her own room, the maids filing out behind her.

"Wait—!". They're gone. I have no clue where the ballroom is, if that's where they're hosting the party. The manor can't be that big, but I'm already running late and I can't afford to get lost. I head into the hall and to the stairs. The party could either be on the first or third floor.

I flop down onto the steps, frustrated. Do I even want to go to this ball? It's less of a welcoming as it is a plot to marry me off. I just now experienced a taste of freedom. I cannot give it all away for some political alliance that will only benefit my enemies. How did I not notice? There's no one around to ask for directions—

There's no one around.

Everyone is supposed to be at the ball.

I peer down the steps to find the foyer empty and dash to the door. Just as I'm about to pull the handle, it swings open and I plaster myself against the wall, hidden from the guard rushing past.

There's no way I'll be able to just walk out the front door and sail away into the night. Guards will probably be stationed at the entry and monitor who comes and goes. But I haven't seen any guards within the grounds, and the yachts are far enough away that I can slip away unnoticed.

I start down the hall leading past the foyer staircase and the library. Glass doors on the left reveal the rose-covered courtyard strung with lights. I stop at the end of the hall, debating whether the right or left would lead me to a back door. Music echoes faintly from a grand set of doors to the left, just in front of the courtyard entrance, and I nearly laugh.

How did I accidentally find the very ball I'm trying to escape?

I hurry down the right corridor and finally reach an exit, hurrying down the stone steps of the terrace leading to the maze. Only now do I realize all the ways the manor prevents you from leaving. To get to the rest of the grounds you must first get through the maze, then walk through the rose garden which leaves you in plain sight of any wardens, and finally walk down the beach to the docks is devoid of any light, creating the perfect environment for a person to slip and fall into the water and alert more guards.

I weave through the towering, narrow hedges in the moonlight, trying to remember how I got out earlier in the day. As I make turn after turn, I find myself wondering if Leander knew about the marriage plot. Was he pretending not to know Daphne? I initially thought Daphne might be working for Queen Lillian, Leander's mother, but the alternative seems somewhat worse. Daphne could be working for someone else, someone who's motives I'm not aware of, whose unknown tyranny could benefit from exploiting me and my curse.

The hedges suddenly rustle. I freeze and hold my breath. Just the breeze. I continue on, quicker now, but something among the hedges snaps.

Not the breeze.

I try to calm myself down. It could be a party guest who came out here for some air, who got drunk and got lost. But surely they would have heard me and called out. Whoever they are, I'm not taking any chances.

I run along the towering hedges, hearing my pursuer quicken their pace as well. As I turn a corner I begin to smell roses and I know I'm close. Turn after turn, dead end after dead end, I barrel through the maze expecting to see someone turning the corner right behind me. I finally get a glimpse of the exit and sprint, stumbling out onto the cobblestone clearing drowning in roses. I pause to catch my breath, silently lamenting my gown that is probably drenched in sweat. I take one step into the rose-filled oblivion as the hedges rustle loudly right behind me.

I barely have time to think as a hand clamps around my mouth and pulls me back through the shadowed hedges. By the time I stop struggling we are back in the middle of the maze, an area filled with statues, fountains, and benches. The stranger releases me and I hear them step back.

I tell myself I'm delusional. I tell myself it's impossible. Pathetic.

But I recognized the calluses on their hands, the way their breaths came, the odd way that the hedges trembled in our wake. I take a deep breath.

And turn to face Ambrose.