CHAPTER004
1033 Words
Eleanor
Eleanor's shame was intense as she ran from the High King's chambers, her heart racing against her chest. After witnessing his disgust when she confessed to being a thief, his expression hardened as though treating her like dirt beneath his boot. Though she expected many things from him, his glare of silent condemnation had knocked her over completely.
What would have happened had I lied instead of accusing Genevieve? Would he have believed me?
On her feet, she headed toward the Old Pantry, the cramped space the servants had cast her into. It wasn't much more than an unwelcoming storage area with an irregularly placed mattress of rags as a bed. Ahead was the Servants' Hall, where everyone lived safely together--though she never felt welcome there.
She kept her head down, quickening her steps, but fate had different plans for her.
"Well, look who's crawling back!" A harsh voice boomed out. "Did you really believe today would be your last day here, or had the king already sent for you?"
Laughter quickly followed. Eleanor stiffened as her fellow maids circled around like hungry vultures sensing fresh meat; their sneers could slice through bone.
"Tell us, did the High King send you packing?" someone teased. "Or did he just take one sniff and decide that such an animal wasn't worth his consideration?"
Eleanor felt her words hit like an unexpected punch but managed to remain silent, moving on as quickly as she could. Fighting back only compounded matters—as soon as they saw her broken, the harsher they became with their words.
"Yes, that is right; run away, little rat! Nowhere do you fit."
Tears threatened to stream down her face, yet she refused to let them fall in front of them. Instead, she stumbled into the Old Pantry, slamming its door behind her with force while the lock rattled on its latch from outside—an increasingly familiar ritual that she endured every evening.
She collapsed onto her bed, sobbing heavily and clutching at a thin pillow. As she felt herself sink under the weight of all she had lost that night, including her beloved partner and last ray of hope... and for what?
"Run away," her inner voice advised her, and do not owe anyone anything. Leave."
Her gaze drifted toward the small sack filled with her few possessions in the corner. For months now, the idea had crossed her mind of leaving this miserable place behind, yet where would she go, and what lay beyond these walls? Outside, they provided no safety net for family or protection.
Wasn't there anything better than this?
Before she could decide, fatigue had overcome her and sent her into a restless sleep.
Noise. A soft click. And the scrape of a lock turning.
Eleanor's eyes opened wide as her heart thundered against her rib cage as she leaped upright, her breath gasping for air. Even though it wasn't dawn yet, Eleanor knew they wouldn't let her out so early—this wasn't possible in their prison system!
A man entered through the creaking door.
Panic gripped her like an iron grip; had they sent a guard to complete what their insults could not? Clinging tightly to her thin sheet as though it were armor, she pressed herself against the wall for protection.
"Please!" she pleaded, but he held out his hand instead.
Eleanor, don't scream; I am here to help and not to harm.
Graham was one of the younger guards; though not one of the crueler ones, that didn't mean she could trust him.
"Why are you here?" He hesitated for an instant before replying, "Because I owe you. Months ago, you helped me locate my sister when she got lost in the estate, and I have never forgotten it - now... I see how they treat you... it's wrong!"
Eleanor was taken aback. No one had ever said or cared about anything like this before.
"I can no longer stand by," he pleaded, "so I'm coming after you."
She felt her spine tremble with anticipation as the word "escape" crossed her mind. Freedom lay just ahead, within reach - yet she hesitated.
Where could I turn? I don't have anything."
Graham assured her she would find a solution soon enough and suggested they try something other than her place of work: any place would be better than here.
She wanted to believe him, but if he were caught helping her, then they'd both face consequences.
"So what will happen when they find out?"
"That is my problem, not yours." Now tell me whether you will join.
Her fingers coiled around the strap of her bag as her inner wolf stirred within. He urged her to move forward.
Eleanor exhaled, "All right. No problem."
As they crept along the corridors of an estate looming behind them, shadows obscured their forms as every creak of floorboards sent chills down Eleanor's spine; she held tightly onto Graham's hand as they weaved their way through its halls like ghostly figures in the darkness.
"Almost there," he whispered softly.
Graham led her back to the back gates, the iron bars blocking off her escape. Kneeling on one knee, he unlatched a hidden latch before carefully pulling open enough of the gate for her to pass through.
Eleanor hesitated before venturing past the gates into a lush forest that lay beyond. There was something mysterious and alluring there, she thought to herself.
"Now," Graham murmured in an amazingly soft voice.
It was now or never: one step, and she would be gone, no more beatings, no more insults, no more pining for someone who treated her like they didn't matter.
"Thank you—" Graham broke off their conversation abruptly by giving her an angry look and becoming suddenly, uncomfortably still beside her—his grip tightening around her wrist while his breathing gradually became shallower. Ice was suddenly flooding through her veins as Graham became still as stone.
Graham stammered. "... Your Highness..." he stammered.
Eleanor slowly turned, her heart beating against her rib cage.
The Monarch stood before them with golden eyes aflame with fury.
"How dare you attempt to take what belongs to me?"
- Writer
