There are only so many places to sit in a room with two beds and a few pieces of scattered furniture. Evident so as the door shuts, locking in Silas and Hallie along with the two members of the kitchen staff. The room is small with only the two of them, but with the extra presence of their titles, the room is suffocating.
No one knows where to go, what to do, what to say. Mills lights another candle and carries it with him in wrinkled, too stiff hands. In the servants' passageways, there isn't much light or warmth, a fireplace would make all the difference but bringing that matter to his father, Silas knew, wouldn't end well. The last thing his father wants to do is help the servants.
They're putting many things on the line by being here. Anyone could have seen them—other servants, guards, or the king himself. Roux keeps an eye out for anything and everything, there's a chance she was nearby instead of drooling over the leader of Esaria in his chambers. She basically lives there now; if she isn't with Celestine, then she is with the king and Binx. The witch of illusion forever sticks to her hip.
The silence in the passageways reminds Silas of what he's just put himself into, Hallie at his side. He's putting her life in danger as well by trespassing here. A prince like himself would never be seen near the servants if they weren't dressing him or providing a meal. This is different, he came on his own with no prior order to arrive or speak to any of the residents hidden away like prisoners.
Silas doesn't want to start on the conditions of their chambers. The only light streaming in is through a small crack in the door, but from the darkness in the hallway, no light comes in. Water drips from somewhere, likely a broken pipe underneath their wash station, and a musky odor of damp towels clogs the fresh air of the room. With these tight conditions, Silas can't help but wonder if this is what it feels like to live in a cell. Some prisoners in the dungeons have resided in their cells for years now, the king is waiting to use them for his grand plan, likely to create more soldiers. Most have died, while others, against the decay of their bodies, have lived.
This...the rooms in the servant passageways are nothing more than cells with wooden doors. The darkness resembles such as does the rickety bed frames and molded dresser. No one should live like this, especially not Mills. He provides the castle with meals, and if Silas had known...he had, but as a prince, turned the other cheek.
Those that work in the castle and residents alike cherish Mills. He's created a reputation for himself over his mortal lifespan by befriending some of the oldest witches in the kingdom, leading the old chef to become something of a story-teller. Through conversation, he's picked bits and pieces for himself to use for later. Silas's favorite nights in the castle are when snow is falling, the air is chilled, and everyone gathers in the Great Hall near the roaring fire to listen to another of Mills's grand adventures—whether his or someone else's.
None of this will matter if they don't make it out alive though. Not the conditions in these rooms of four stone walls or whether Mills wants to involve himself in the first place. He was confident at the door, but Silas watches his hands shake around the bronze candle, the circular dish in his grasp.
On the other side of the room, resting her thin hip against the desk, Dalis looks between the two of them. Silas shrinks the room. That's not only a result of his stature but his title, too. He shoves away the churning in his gut, the one telling him to leave before someone discovers him.
To hell with the rules, Renit would want him to do this. Renit would've done this himself if he was still here.
There isn't a proper place to sit or stand, the ceiling is low so Silas tilts his head to the side. The bed is a possibility but the weak, wooden legs don't appear wide enough to hold his strength, let alone Hallie or Dalis. Nothing about this is right; the awkward silence in the room intensifies the longer each of them holds their breaths. To let the stakes settle, apparently.
BINABASA MO ANG
Aligning the Forgotten ✓
Fantasy[Book 3 of the Grounding the Storm series] Renit's worst nightmare has come true. Roux isn't at his side, and he's banished from his throne and his crown, leaving him nameless and on the run. While trying to escape his father's cruel reign, he has t...
