The Song Of The Wolf (Edited & Rewritten)

Chapter Eleven

Central heating was something Maebh had taken for granted. There were only so many logs an open hearth could consume before a room with single-pane glass stopped getting warmer. At night, the condensation on the windows frosted over, forcing her to pile on triple-layered duvets.

Maebh had developed a liking for Claudie, and she couldn't decide if that was the Stockholm syndrome talking or if the woman was a genuine gem. To keep her entertained, Claudie brought more books, shared anecdotes about her husband, along with idle bits of gossip from around the castle. Maebh absorbed it all, a sponge hoping for a spill. One that never came. Claudie remained frustratingly tight-lipped about the people and circumstances surrounding her abduction, insisting it wasn't her place to discuss.

Thoughts of putting her self defence skills to use again were entertained, the moral dilemma of hurting the woman delaying her a full day. But the gravity of the situation forced her hand.

On the fourth day, that plan fizzled out. Between Claudie carrying in her breakfast tray and bumping the door closed with her hip, Maebh caught a glimpse of Benjamin, standing guard in the hallway. She paid special attention during the other meal deliveries that day and found he was there every time.

Deep down, past the instinctive urge to fight her way to freedom, Maebh knew resistance would lead nowhere. She needed to bide her time, lull her captors into a false sense of security and wait for the opportune moment.

On the morning of the fifth day, without having to resort to any psychological games, that moment came. Half an hour after lunch, Maebh sat cross-legged in front of the double doors, clutching a butter knife, her tongue sticking out in concentration.

The screws securing the hinges to the door frame were partially covered in paint, she could just discern the slots in the marred heads.

Who in their right mind had chosen to provide her meals with real cutlery instead of plastic, disposable ones? And a club sandwich at that? Massive rookie mistake. Maebh had faked a mental breakdown and hurled the silverware out of the window. Claudie made the second mistake when she believed the young woman to have disposed of all cutlery, unaware that the butter knife lay concealed under a pillow. Had Maebh's disposition been any less sweet, she might have been tempted to sharpen the object on the stone walls and use it to threaten or stab a path to Haines Junction—an alternative she had yet to rule out.

She inserted the thin edge into the slot, applying pressure and turning her makeshift screwdriver counterclockwise. Though the rusty thing resisted at first, with each careful turn, it gradually yielded. 

She should have sharpened the knife regardless. If she managed to get out, it did not pose much of a weapon in its current state.

Sweat beaded on her brows as she continued to work, until the screw came loose. She removed it, placed it on the floor, and stood up to repeat the process with the second screw.

There was a clicking of heels on the flagstone floors.

'–lost his damned mind!'

'Your Majesty, we extracted her due to safety concerns, but His Highness did not want to introduce her to court yet.'

'So he locks her away from his family? The poor girl must be terrified out of her wits!'

Another voice piped in, a slithery one. 'Your Majesty, I tried to reason with him but he–'

'Forget it. Open the door.'

At the sound of a key being inserted into the lock's mechanism, Maebh stumbled back and chucked the knife under the bed. She froze as one of the double doors swung open, hanging crookedly from the unscrewed hinge.