Indebted

19

Esti awoke long before the sun had risen. Atticus, deeply asleep on the pillow beside her. He had been a gentleman, letting her get some much needed rest in an opulent and plush bed. Now that she was rested, and relatively certain her mate didn't mean her any real harm. Esti dared to take a chance. Atticus might not be a bad man, but his inexperience or knowledge of court was going to leave them vulnerable. Myrrh was no Ally. Fowl was getting married, he would soon be away on his honeymoon.

They needed an exit strategy. Atticus had lived with the humans. Enjoyed an expensive lifestyle. Esti planned to convince him to just run away with her. Leave this world. Even if they couldn't be rich, wouldn't it be better to be free? His aunt was using him to pad her social calendar. A pawn in her own plots and plans. Esti had caught her in one obvious lie. How many others had gone overlooked? Court politicking was not ever an area Esti was strong in skills. Esti ran her hand around her throat. The ghost of the band that had been around her throat for months haunting her. She wouldn't go back.

They had made her slave once, taken away all her options. Esti wasn't going to let the court catch her unprepared ever again. She needed more allies to help her- Help her and Atticus escape before they found disfavor. Esti had been caught in a small updraft of luck when Atticus had decided to save her when no one else could, she wasn't going to lose herself in the currents of court ever again. Not if she could have any agency to act for herself.

Esti dressed in leggings and one of Atticus's shirts, cinched with a belt at her middle, carefully stole her way from the bedroom. Trying to not disturb Atticus, wishing to be invisible as she did something reckless. Sneeking to the other guest bedroom. Easily finding the secret catch by the fireplace for the least appointed of the rooms in this apartment, sneaking into the spaces hidden in the castle walls. 

Running swiftly through the least used corridors. Following her mental map that was nearly perfect. She hadn't ever spent time much time in this wing. Royal floors had their own servant class. Esti was running to where she really considered her home to be. With people she knew she could trust.

Esti made her way to the boiler rooms, managing to sneak up on Mr. Norman as he checked one of the more troublesome boilers. "Mr. Norman?" Esti had said, her voice sounding so small in the cavernous space, fighting to be heard over the mechanical sounds of the boilers and furnaces.

Norman turned around. "Girly! You're unharmed?" He looked her over, hands on her shoulders lightly just to make sure she was real, no new bruises, she looked clean, well rested. She didn't have the look she had when she was hungry or stressed or worse, hurt. "What are you doing here?" This wasn't safe. The servant class and nobility were never meant to mingle. Esti was breaking the rules.

"I just wanted to tell you, I think I'm going to be ok. Atticus isn't a bad man." She was looking at the floor. She was unsure how to manage her relationship with Norman now. Now that it was improper for her to speak with both of the people she considered the only family she had left. "I had some books in my room, some other things I wanted to pick up too?" Esti asked. Maybe all her things had already been disposed of after she had been consigned to death.

"Your room is how you left it." Except that Norman had made the bed, replaced the broken chair, and tried to make the room look like how it should, instead of the strewn mess the soldiers had left it after forcefully taken a sleeping Esti from her bed. Clenching and unclenching his fist, Norman kept his own anger under control. Remembering hearing her scream out in terror in the dark of night as strangers took her from her bed where she had been safely asleep. Knowing he would only damn himself along with her if he had interfered. The Militia had become an iron fist in the castle, snuffing out any dissension, at any level.

Esti was unharmed Norman's subconscious reminded him. He needed to focus on that. She wouldn't have much time to stay here talking to him before she would be missed. "Come, tell me about young master Atticus." Norman said. Lying. He had cleaned her room. Thinking he had been doing it for a ghost that was going to haunt him in his basement until he finally met his chance to die.