The Great Escape

Chapter- 17

A/N: You know what I am going to say. This chapter is long and unedited. Thanks for reading XD

The Lady stilled.

Ominous red eyes.

She took a step back from the window sill.

Staring at her.

Sucked in a sharp breath, puffing her chest; her nightgown seemed too tight.

Staring into her soul.

Eyes still on that spot where she had seen the unknown beast, she reached for the mattress.

Glaring into her soul.

Crept her hand under the mattress, she took a hold of her dagger.

Foreboding.

She clutched the dagger close to her chest, her eyes falling on a dark cloak and a pair of straw made sandals near the window.

Impending disaster.

She took some steps forward and not some seconds later, the sandals were on her feet, the cloak around her figure and she was lunging outside her room without second thoughts.

Than, on a floor above her— on the far off end of the Monroe Mansion— there was Paris. Blood red eyes scanned the woods from the higher ground that was his bed chamber. He sat on the window sill, forlorn stare stuck on the greenery. Past it— in the captivity of wood and stones, somewhere in the far corner of the cold construction, behind the iron bars— Ada must be propped up against the dirty wall as well.

One more night, Ada. Then you shall be released.

In his hand, the little vial of ointment stared at him. The unopened container appeared to be mocking him. Three days prior, he had brought it to apply on the small cut she had received.

Will it be enough to soothe her wounds tomorrow?

He carefully put it in his breast pocket.

More. I would need more ointment.

Tomorrow evening. Yes, by then, I will get more ointment.

I will have the best ointment from the best physician.

Suddenly, another thought jolted through his being.

Will she be angry?

Will Ada be upset I made her wait?

Will she be livid I did not come to meet?

Paris clutched his stomach at the thought. A prickling sensation spread in his insides.

Did she at least expect I would come?

The never ending cycle of his mother's words reverberated in his head. The conversation he held with her yesterday evening was taxing. He could hear her voice clearly in his head. He could feel the coldness of her words in his bones. He twitched when he remembered the sharpness of her prickly gaze over the goblet of blood.

"Oh you wish to see the eye patch girl, son?" She had questioned him.

"I wish to set her free, mother," he had stated firmly.

"I would. Once, you have secured the alliance with the Douglas' spawn."

"I do not want this marriage."

"And I do not want the eye patch girl to be free." His mother had shrugged, crossing her legs as she settled comfortably on the plush chair. "Looks like we both can not get everything we want."