Buried In Thorns

HER9

I was beginning to believe this castle really was out to bring me misfortune now. How could this have come to happen? Five other maids aligned the wall with me, all of whom looked older and better composed than I clearly felt. We all stood with our hands clasped either behind or in front of us as we awaited our turn to be interviewed. The word brought forth a cold sweat and goosebumps to my exposed flesh. Again, I peered over to the large door, willing Gerald to come back out and dismiss us back to our previous jobs. There was no doubt Violet would have some mountainous amount of work waiting for me upon my return. If the others didn't get to me first to interrogate me, that is. Even if I managed to come out of this alright, that situation would still have to be dealt with. A twinge at my temple made me take in a deeply controlled breath. I had never failed to remain inconspicuous in any of the other hideouts I had taken refuge in. What was it about this place that managed to snag at my attempts to lay low, like thorned weeds snagging at my ankles?

Being pulled out of work when I was so new here usually meant trouble, but since I knew it hadn't caused any actual trouble, I had worried my identity had already been discovered. But when no knights poured from around Gerald and he simply told me to follow, I had no choice but to reluctantly comply with all the curious eyes that watched us go. His explanation had been brief, but the words were far from comforting, even if for now, my identity seemed to remain unquestioned.

"Along with a few others, you have been selected to be a possible replacement for a vacant spot to serve the Princess. Wait beside the ladies when we arrive, when your name is called, step forth." The words nearly made me stumble over my feet, fingers digging into my dress as I followed behind him closely. I wasn't entirely sure where we were, which was in itself a problem, but I knew the servants' quarters were at my back.

"The Princess?" I said tentatively. "But I just arrived not too long ago. Surly, there are others better suited to serve her highness?"

"Indeed, but somehow," he looked over at me, vacant eyes fixed on my own. There was an unnerving pressure from that look alone. It wasn't hostility or menace directed at me, which made me all the more wry, because there was no doubt that he could be a threat if he wanted to. He carried a no nonsense feel to him that promised consequences to those he deemed worthy of punishment. "You caught her attention." There was no question in his statement, but I had worked enough to know when I was being cued to give information. There wasn't anything too dangerous about this.

"I did not reveal her hiding spot when she hid from her maids." I volunteered without delay.

"Why?"

"She was playing." It was the simple truth. The other was that being targeted by a Princess for ratting her out was not worth it. I was beginning to regret not simply walking out of the damn room.

"Hmm." Was all he said before we made a turn, to where others were lined against the walls. "Wait over there." He continued forth to the large door at the end of the hall, before he opened it and shut without sound coming forth.

"Yes, sir." I muttered, taking my place at the end. After a few minutes, I had wondered if any of the other women would start talking to make small talk, but none did so, which was as comforting as it was annoying. The servants here were trained eerily well. I think the new ones were the only ones that idled in chit chat, and even then they were quickly shushed by the older ones in the room unless they themselves had started the conversations. It made gaining small information difficult when everyone was nearly closed lipped.

Whatever the position they were offering at the princess' side was not something I could take, especially not with the death-dealing knight who kept a close watch over her. I needed to fail the interview without making it obvious. Each time a name was called, it took around thirty minutes for them to come back out. By the time my name was called, I walked over to the door and squared my shoulders. Gerald was sitting at a modest desk, Madame Lota at his side with a folder of some kind. Only the window at his back and the door behind me were the only openings of the stone room. The furniture was all pushed against the walls, a singular couch facing two chairs took up the majority of the space in the room, with the exception of his desk.