The Princess's Servant

46. The Room

The room was a bedroom like any other. It was a small — not much larger than the bathroom he'd been scrubbed down in — though it held all the furnishings one would need in a living quarters. To Holden's right was a little bed with a blanket as green as grass and sheets as white as starch. At the foot of the bed was a dark rectangular chest, simple in design, but functional. Behind the bed and a little to its left was a narrow window criss-crossed with iron lacing that formed a pattern like diamonds across the glass. And finally, at his feet: a beat up rug.

"I..." Holden didn't have the words. "What is this."

Sybil beamed. "It's for you, silly!" She said. "I can only keep you in the dungeon for so long before you die of plague... or rat-fever or whatever. So... I arranged this little room," she said. "What do you think?" She leaned forward like she was whispering a secret. "Do you like it?"

Holden stared at the bed and the chest and the rug. His eyes searched for what he knew was there. This was a trap. Somehow, somewhere, there was something terribly wrong with this room. Scorpions in the blankets. Shards of glass in the rug. Or— a hidden passageway into the room so she could come strangle him again in his sleep. The prince side-eyed it all. "I would like to go back to my cell now," he told her.

The princess shook her head. "What are you saying?" She smiled. "You haven't even seen the room yet! I'll show you around." Sybil hopped over to the rug and Holden winced as she landed. But no spikes shot out from the floor to impale her, so he relaxed. "Over here is the bed," she told him, "which is small, but warm. Over here is the chest where you can keep your things — if you ever get any... And, oh!" She lept over to the window. "Over here is my favorite part. The window!" She looked out of it and Holden could see her excited expression reflected in the glass. "It has a great view of hangman alley," she said. "So you can watch the spectacle the next time mother catches a foreign diplomat trying to assassinate her! Pretty cool, isn't it?" She turned to Holden once more.

Holden gave her an incredulous look. "Sybil, I don't care if this room has a marked escape route, I'm not staying in it."

Sybil's smile didn't dim, but her eyes narrowed in skepticism. "Why wouldn't you? I don't understand."

The prince took one brave step forward. "Because this is clearly a trap. I don't know how, but it is. And I refuse to play the fool in another one of your convoluted schemes to make me suffer."

Sybil's smile really did fade this time. She raised her eyebrows and tucked her hands behind her back. Holden watched the movement with some interest. "Listen, Wardian," she said. "I know last night was rough."

Rough was sleeping in a pool of water every night. Last night had been the one of the worst experiences of his life.

"But I really am trying to be nice here," she told him. "Can't you just give it a go? See what happens?"

"No!" He told her. "You tried to kill me! Why would I believe for a second that you're 'trying to be nice?' All you've ever done is make me hurt!"

Sybil lowered her chin and gripped the little stoney windowsill. "Well, maybe I'm trying to be nice to you now," she told him.

Holden shook his head. "Why," he said. "Why would you do that? Did you grow a conscience between trying to strangle me to death and threatening to slit my throat? Did you look down halfway through murdering me and think 'when this is over, I should really treat him better?' Of course you didn't! You are the most self-centered, cruel, uncaring..." Holden struggled to summon adequate words. "Vile, monster of a person I've ever met!"

Sybil said nothing.

"I wouldn't trust you if it saved my life, and I certainly wouldn't trust you if it earned me a bed! I would sleep in my cell every day for the rest of my days before I once thought about sleeping in a room you'd given me."

"I..." Sybil's eyes fell and for the first time since he met her, she looked... pale. "You got me," she told him. "It's a trap."

"Fucking knew it." Holden shook his head in disgust. "What, did you stick needles in the mattress?"

Sybil didn't speak. Sybil didn't move. Holden couldn't even see her breathing. "You can return to your cell now," she said, her voice pallid.

Upset she'd been caught, he assumed. "With pleasure," he sneered. "Oh, and next time you think about pulling a stunt like this? Save us both the embarrassment and leave me out of it."

Holden marched out of the room to face a couple guards. He didn't resist as they pushed him down the hall and led him back to the dungeon.

Once Sybil could no longer hear their footsteps, she sauntered over to the bed and sat down. No needles stuck her, nor pins. She took a deep breath in and let it out in a huff. That was awful, she thought, and hadn't gone at all like she had wanted.

Sybil stuck her hand under the pillow and withdrew a little letter. She turned it in her hands and watched the light reflect off of her golden seal: an eagle with a snake in front of the sun. She placed the letter in her lap and sighed again.

*****

Holden hadn't meant to hear what he'd heard. He'd been perfectly happy to listen to the sounds of his own annoyed thoughts without hearing anything else.

But despite his preferences, as the prince approached the dungeon, just before he turned in, her heard a stranger's voice. It was soft, feminine, and crystal clear:

"After eighteen years, someone finally told her."

A/N: Thanks so much for reading!! And Happy Valentine's Day!! ❤️🌹💌

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