The Princess's Servant

73. The Cabin

By the time Sybil was dropped off at Holden's cabin, it was midday. The princess exited her carriage to face the picturesque little cottage, which showcased a front-yard full of rose bushes and was topped with a straw thatched roof. Sybil stood there for a moment in front the little home and felt herself shrink. This was wrong. This was the home that she had read so much about in Holden's letters — she didn't belong there. Not only was she entering her (former) servant's private quarters, but she was approaching a place she'd sworn she'd never see. Sybil wanted to turn around and try her luck out in the woods, but Thomas's words still rang in her head. She needed to do this. For Lailoy, if for nothing else.

Sybil climbed the wooden steps to the porch and faced the front door. She lifted her hand to knock, but...

The door creaked open. Sybil peered inside. Dark. Empty.

"Hello?" She took one silk-slippered step inside the cabin. "Wardian?"

No reply. She parted the door a little wider.

To her left was a modest kitchen, and beyond that was a little living room with a fireplace and a couch. To her right were two closed doors — identical in size and shape. Sybil tried the one nearest her. Locked. She tried the next one. The door split open and revealed a bed and a desk. The Wardian's room, Sybil knew. The poetry drafts on the desk were a dead giveaway, and the pine colored wool blanket that graced the bed just seemed like him, she thought. One bed, was her next thought. Oh gods.

Without wanting to dwell on that thought too long, Sybil exited the room and closed the door. It was then she came face-to-face with a note.

A white sheet of paper, sitting on the kitchen table. A paper with her name on it. Sybil neared it.

"Sybil,

I'd you're reading this, it's because I'm still out running errands. I should be back by sundown.

Holden"

The princess blinked at the note and turned it over like there might be more. There was not. Sybil felt her chest deflate and she flopped herself down on the couch. It was an overly soft thing, and she sunk halfway into it.

Sybil tried to close her eyes. When she finally managed, she found that it was far more difficult to keep them closed. Whenever her vision went dark, she saw that noose, hanging above her head like a promise. Sybil opened her eyes right away and rolled onto her side. She should think happy thoughts, she told herself. Like how she wasn't going to die. Like how instead, she was going to marry Holden and live out the rest of her life here, in this dingy cabin, sharing his bed. Sybil shuttered and shook. Perhaps Thomas would reconsider execution.

Lying on the couch wasn't working. Maybe what she needed was a walk.

Sybil stood. She stepped for the door but must have done so too forcefully because her dress snagged on the low oaken table in front of the couch. She nearly tripped and had to catch herself to keep from hitting the planked floor. When she recovered, she glanced around the room to make double sure that no one else had witnessed her embarrassing feat.

And that is when she noticed it. It was a rock. One of the many rocks that made up the cobblestone fireplace, and it was out of position. Sybil tilted her head at the thing. She approached it, expecting that it had simply gotten loose from its masonry. But as Sybil tried to shove it back in, she felt something shove back.

Sybil stopped. She pulled out the rock and looked into the divet it had come from. She noticed something tan and leathery in the shadow of the hole.

A book.

Sybil's heart leapt. She looked around herself again and yanked it out. She knew she wasn't supposed to have this book, which is exactly why she opened it up.