Everquiet

Scene Eleven: East Wing

Laughter almost escaped me when I realized Margaret hadn't appeared to wake me.

Strange.

Not that I was complaining.

For the first time since arriving at Ravenscroft Manor, I'd been allowed to sleep until I woke naturally. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, soft and golden, warming the room with the gentle glow of early autumn. Beyond the glass, the trees had only begun to change, their green leaves kissed with hints of amber and crimson.

I stretched lazily before throwing back the covers and crossing to the wardrobe.

I opened the doors and stared at the rows of elegant gowns Margaret had so carefully arranged.

Does this mean I can wear my own clothes?

I glanced around the room suspiciously, half expecting Margaret to materialize from thin air the moment I reached for something comfortable.

When she didn't, I grinned.

From the bottom drawer I pulled out a pair of black leggings and an oversized cream knit sweater I'd packed before leaving home. After dressing, I braided my hair over one shoulder and slipped on a pair of thick, fuzzy socks.

I sighed happily.

"The dresses are beautiful," I murmured to myself, wiggling my toes. "But this... this is life."

Feeling far more like myself, I left my room and wandered downstairs toward the dining room, my stomach growling with every step.

I pushed open the heavy doors.

The room was empty.

No Sebastian.

No Margaret.

Only the long oak table stretching beneath an ornate wrought-iron chandelier filled with unlit candles.

I frowned.

Before I could wonder where everyone had gone, a gentle tap landed on my shoulder.

I gasped and spun around.

A young servant girl stood there, no older than sixteen, her hands clasped nervously in front of her apron.

"I'm terribly sorry for frightening you, Miss Hawthorne," she said with an apologetic smile. "Would you care for some breakfast?"

"Yes, please."

She dipped into a small curtsy before disappearing through a nearby service door.

Moments later she returned carrying a silver tray laden with fresh bread, eggs, fruit, and steaming tea.

"Thank you."

She smiled as she placed everything before me.

"May I ask you something?"

She hesitated only briefly before nodding.

"Of course, Miss Hawthorne."

"Do you know where Sebastian is?"

A knowing smile touched her lips.

"Master Ravenscroft had business to attend to this morning. He should return before dinner."

Before I could ask anything else, she excused herself and slipped quietly from the room.

Strange...

I ate in thoughtful silence before wandering back into the foyer.

With nothing planned for the day, I looked around the grand entrance hall.

Where do I even go?

My feet answered before my mind did.

The East Wing.

I paused beneath its arched entrance, glancing over my shoulder as though expecting someone to stop me.

No one did.

Curiosity won.

The hallway looked much like the rest of the manor, lined with dark wood paneling, antique tables, and portraits whose watchful eyes seemed to follow every step.

I peeked into room after room.

A music room.

A sitting room.

A study filled with leather-bound books.

Nothing particularly unusual.

At the very end of the corridor stood two enormous oak doors carved with ravens perched among twisting vines.

I pushed one open just enough to slip inside.

The room beyond was dim, the heavy curtains drawn against the daylight. Dust floated lazily through thin beams of light that escaped around the velvet drapes.

I lifted a candle from a nearby stand and struck a match.

The warm glow slowly revealed the room.

It was unmistakably Sebastian's.

A massive four-poster bed dominated the center, draped in charcoal velvet with deep burgundy bedding that looked as though it had never been disturbed. Opposite it, an enormous stone fireplace stretched nearly to the ceiling, its carved mantle lined with old books, a tarnished silver pocket watch, and a collection of antique chess pieces frozen mid-game.

One wall held shelves overflowing with leather-bound volumes on history, philosophy, astronomy, and law. Another displayed maps of distant countries, each covered in neat handwritten notes and tiny colored pins.

Near the windows sat a large mahogany desk buried beneath stacks of papers, open journals, sealing wax, and carefully organized correspondence. Nothing appeared careless. Everything had its place.

Yet despite the room's elegance, it felt... lonely.

As though it belonged to someone who spent very little time sleeping and far too much time thinking.

My attention shifted to the portraits lining the far wall.

Each was dated decades apart.

I stepped closer, raising my candle.

The first bore a date nearly a century old.

The second, fifty years later.

The third...

Another generation.

My brow furrowed.

Every portrait showed the master of Ravenscroft Manor.

And every single man looked exactly like Sebastian.

The same sharp jaw.

The same dark hair.

The same impossibly dark eyes that seemed to swallow the light.

Not merely similar.

Identical.

A chill crept down my spine.

"This family has some seriously strong genes," I whispered.

A floorboard creaked somewhere behind me.

I whirled around so quickly that the candle slipped from my grasp.

The flame hissed out.

Darkness swallowed the room.

"Oh, come on," I muttered, pressing a hand against my racing heart. "Get it together, Liora."

Feeling foolish, I hurried toward the doorway.

The moment I stepped into the hall, I collided with someone solid.

I shrieked.

Strong hands steadied my shoulders.

"Miss Hawthorne."

Margaret.

Her expression made it abundantly clear she was less startled than she was disappointed.

"The East Wing is off limits."

"I... I was just exploring."

"So I gathered."

She folded her hands neatly in front of her.

"It would be appreciated if you resisted the urge to explore restricted portions of the manor."

"I'll try."

"You'll do more than try."

I offered an apologetic smile before slipping past her.

She fell into step beside me.

After several moments of silence, her eyes drifted over my outfit.

"I see you've abandoned the gowns."

I looked down at my sweater and fuzzy socks.

"I hope that's all right."

"It is," she replied, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her sleeve. "Though I confess, I was quite surprised."

"I've been living in dresses for days. I missed being comfortable."

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"I suspected as much."

She paused before adding, "Speaking of your belongings, the remainder of your trunks arrived this morning."

I stopped walking.

"They did?"

"They've already been taken to your room."

My face lit up.

"Really?"

Margaret nodded.

"I thought you might like to unpack them."

Without another word, I practically skipped toward the staircase.

"Oh, finally!"

A soft chuckle escaped Margaret as she followed.

"I don't believe I've ever seen someone so excited over luggage."

"You have no idea what's in those trunks."

"I imagine clothes."

"Books," I corrected immediately. "Sketchbooks. Paints. My favorite blanket. Letters from home. Actual shoes that don't require assistance to put on."

Margaret laughed quietly.

"I suppose those are worthy of excitement."

By the time we reached my room, several trunks sat neatly at the foot of the bed.

I dropped to my knees beside the first one and threw open the lid with a grin.

"There you are."

The familiar scent of cedar and lavender drifted upward.

For the first time since arriving at Ravenscroft Manor, something felt unmistakably like home.

Margaret knelt beside me, carefully lifting folded dresses while I eagerly sorted through books, scarves, sketchpads, and little treasures I'd nearly forgotten I'd packed.

"So," I said with a smile, "since we're unpacking together... does this mean we're friends now?"

Margaret paused, a folded shawl in her hands.

"I believe," she said with practiced composure, "that is a rather generous interpretation of my duties."

"But not entirely inaccurate?"

She hid another small smile as she continued unpacking.

"No, Miss Hawthorne."

I couldn't help smiling.

It wasn't exactly a yes.

But it wasn't a no, either.