A Hidden Queen

Chapter 4

The ride in the carriage was long and painful. Josephine didn't fight when the cuffs were taken off her wrists. No, she was too heartbroken to do so. She spent much of her time gazing out the window in a dazed fog. When they reached the Governor's home Joe was roughly pulled from the carriage and dragged up the stairs to the second floor of the mansion. She didn't even have time to react as she is thrown into a room. Unable to gain her balance, Joe falls to her hands and knees. A groan slips past her lips as renew aches surge through her abused body. The young woman takes in several deep breaths, slowly rising to her feet. She straightens herself up turning to face the three different guards it took to drag her in here. She would have found the situation laughable if she was not so enraged at the world. The men laugh, snicker and tsk at her, acting as if she was nothing more than a spoiled brat getting what she deserved. She raises her head high, a sneer lifting the corners of her mouth as they start their way towards the doors.

"I hope you enjoy your stay." The guard sasses, leaning his weight on the door handles. "Maybe the good Governor won't lock you up in here for all eternity."

Josephine growls at the threat. She had the initial thought that they had planned to lock her in a room, but her mind refused to consider the thought as her heart ached with the outcome of the trial. But now that intuition could no longer be ignored, and Josephine could not allow that to happen. She digs her heels into the floor, shoving off the balls of her feet. The blue eyes keep their sight on the guard holding the door. He smirks, waiting until she is inches from the door before slamming them shut. Her momentum slams her into the heavy oak doors.

"Let me out of here!" She shouts, banging her fist on the doors.

Laughter and clapping can be heard through the barrier. She growls continuing her bombardment as intense words and threats roll off her tongue. After several minutes of being unanswered, Josephine kicks the door screaming out of frustration. She spins herself around, pressing her back against the wood. A grimace forms on her face as she gazes upon the room that was no doubt going to be her new prison. It was a ghastly taste in décor. The fluffy, frilly bed, the plush chair in the corner of the room, the little tea set that sat on the side table and the pink. Oh God the pink. This is sickening. Josephine thinks to herself. Her hawk-like eyes continue to study the room. If there was a way out of this mess, she'd be able to find it. Despite all the frilly, pink things, the room was rather spartan compared to the amount of space it contained. There were barely any decorations on the walls and what little there was looked like a person put them there to fill a hole. The only thing that made the room look less empty was the giant picture window that sat in the back of the room.

"Well, mine as well start there." She mutters under her breath.

Josephine pushes herself off the double doors gliding her way to the back-half of the room. She leaned into the cubby space that sat within the window. The spot had a perfect view of the harbor, despite the old oak tree that stood right outside. Josephine observes that the branch of the tree reaches out towards the window seal. And they are thick enough to support a person's weight. The idea of climbing down and making her escape flashed to the front. The young woman rubs her chin as she tries to calculate her chances of doing it successfully. It wouldn't be any different than climbing the ratlines, only easier because the tree is stationary unlike a ship. She nods her head several times in confirmation. This could be a long shot, but it had to be better than sitting here the whole time. She thinks to herself.

She flexes her hands several times working loose the tension that has crept into her hands. A deep exhale leaves her lungs as her finger wrap themselves around the small golden handles. The handles turn and move freely with her touch. That was a good sign; they weren't locked. Josephine closes her eyes for a moment, calming her nerves. Her body relaxes, her breathing becoming strong. A determination fills her chest and stomach as the blue orbs slide open. Her grip on the handles tightens as she gives them a hardy pull. Joe knits her eyebrows together. She pulls on them again with more force this time. But the glass doors would not budge. Joe huffs out of her nose. She grabs the handles one last time, leaning back and putting all her weight into it. Her teeth grind together as her hands slip on the slick metal. She plants her feet a little more firmly, shifting her weight. The shift causes the handles to slip from her hands. Gravity pulls her to the ground, an undignified yelp leaving her body. Josephine rubs her hands, glaring daggers at the offended object.

"What is wrong with this thing?" She utters. "They're not locked. They shouldn't be this hard to open."

Josephine pushes herself up off the floor, returning to the bay window. Starting from the bottom, she traces her nimble fingers over the entire seam of the window. She raises an eyebrow as her skin runs across a cold, rough surface. She moves her finger back and forth over the object. It was metal and flat on the top. Joe stands on her tiptoes, bracing her hands against the glass. On the top of the window seal along the edges of the door, Joe could just make out the flatten top of a hammered nail. Her eyes roam down the line seeing several others in small groupings. The window was nailed shut.

Josephine pushes herself off the hated object. Her body shook with a newfound rage. The nails were just recently done. The wood was splintered in some areas, but the nails, the nails were still clean, fresh. There was no dust or dirt or signs of sun damage. He knew. Her grandfather knew. She didn't know how, or why, but he knew. He was banking on this outcome and prepared for it accordingly. Josephine tangles her hands in her hair. She roughly runs them through it, screaming into the air. Curses fly off her tongue, damning her grandfather's name to the depths themselves. Josephine spins herself around, taking deep even breaths. Her shoulders relax, drawing tight with determination as all the pent-up rage and aggression leaves her veins.

"Fine." Joe snaps out. "If they want to play games. Let's play games."

Josephine storms her way over to the large, winged back chair. She turns herself around examining how the chair sits in relation to the rest of the room. She could see the whole room from this spot. And she would be out of sight if someone walked in through the door. This would allow her ample time to decide on what she wanted to do next. Good. She thinks. Josephine flops herself in the chair, throwing her boots up onto the tea table beside it. With everything that she has experienced and discovered so far, it would only be a matter of time before her dear old grandfather would show his ugly mug. Well, when he does, he's going to be in for a fight.

Josephine scoots herself down a little further getting as comfortable as she could considering the way the chair was designed. Her gaze shifts to the window as a soft orange glow fills the room. She watches as the flaming ball paints the sky in vibrant oranges and yellows. It seemed so peacefully, setting in its own sky. Josephine's eyes cast downwards. Oh, how she longs to chase after it. She thinks longingly. She sighs heavily, leaning her head against the back of the chair, stilling herself for the long wait ahead.