Cinders [Completed]

Chapter 9: Breaking Curfew

//trigger warning//

Panic clogs my veins and I freeze for a moment. The Prince, the P r i n c e is only a few yards away and is coming closer.

I could let him find me here, aproned and dirty. I imagined him sweeping me into his arms and I imagined never having to smell lye again and mom and Lucy living with us in the palace and everything is perfect.

Reality kicks back in. That's not what it would be.

In the ten seconds it takes for the Prince - running down the hall, by the rate the heartbeat is getting louder - to turn the corner, able to sense me at this distance like I did him, I dive for a door on the left wall, letting it click behind me as silently as possible.

For the first time in weeks, luck is with me. It's a servant passage - obviously unused, probably from back in the day when servants couldn't be seen walking through the halls.

I bolt down it as quickly as I can with my subpar werewolf speed. My footsteps thud dully against the carpet.

I don't run down the hallway for very long. The walls in the palace are so soundproof that I doubt the Prince could hear my heartbeat in his room. And I just need to be able to sneak back through the main hallway and to the kitchens.

I stop and sit down on the floor, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. My heaving breaths rattle and echo down the white walls. I consider my options.

One - I could follow this hallway and let it take me who knows where, probably getting lost in the process. The chance that this old, unserviced and unwelcoming servant passage leads anywhere useful or even structurally sound is minimal, at best. I consider Joanna getting a group together to find me and all of the attention that would attract. How angry Blackwell would be. Plus, I would almost definitely be late getting home.

Or, I could turn around and go back out into the main hallway. Passing the Prince's room. Taking the chance that he would be in the room. Potentially, even, running into the Prince himself. Or, dashing past and making a b-line to the kitchens, where I would be safely out of trouble.

I don't like my options.

But one of them had a much more probably chance of disaster. If I got lost in this servant hall, which I almost certainly would, the attention would be enough to get me in trouble. Maybe enough that the Prince would hear about it.

I turn on my heel and begin walking back the way I came.

The door looks at me with treacherous height. I lean forward and press my ear to the door, satisfied, after a moment, that I don't hear a heartbeat on the other side. The Prince was probably just stopping by his room to grab a book. He may not even notice my scent beneath the cleaning materials, perfume, and lye that cover my hands. With this reassuring thought, I press the door open ever so slightly and peer through.

It's about 20 feet away from the door to the Prince's room. There is no movement or sound, which allows me to pick up the bucket of tools and open it enough for me to sneak outside.

I bolt down the hallway, getting to the very end in seconds.

But I can't force myself to keep going without first looking back. I turn and look towards the other end of the hallway. The double doors are wide open, allowing me to see the Prince, standing in the center of his room and facing away from me.

He takes several stuttering breaths - I guess, finding my scent despite the perfume and clothes and cleaning supplies. The entire room must smell like me. His shoulders sag and he falls onto his knees, and then -

The Prince begins to cry.

Pitiful, heartbroken sobs shake his shoulders in spasms. He falls forward onto his hands.