“I will love you, Miss Montgomery,” comes his voice from the other side, startling me. I launch a step back as he speaks again. “I will treat you with kindness. But first, you mustn’t fight me. You must seek your better nature and turn from sin toward goodness.”
My chest heaves. “Go to hell.”
Like he did when he was carrying me, he begins to mutter a prayer. “Saint Lazaro, Most Holy Above, smite the sin from this creature and tame her wicked ways. Stay her hand and purify her with your righteous fire…”
He continues, but I refuse to hear a word more of it. Turning away from the door, I search the room. With my eyes adjusting to the darkness, I’m able to make out the shape of the bed, a cluster of furniture that must be a sitting area, and—there! Another sliver of light glows against the far wall. Curtains. I race toward them and pull the drapes back. Starlight streams into the bedroom, drawing my eyes to the sky. My buzzing thoughts go still at the sight, reminding me of how it looked through the domed ceiling in the ballroom. Back before this night went horribly wrong.
It’s enough to make my chest ache. An hour ago, I was so close to freedom. Not just because of the music and the lighthearted feel of the ball, but because I was naïve enough to think I could outlast my stepmother’s cruelty. I knew she wouldn’t stop trying to claim my inheritance until it was well beyond her reach, but I never imagined she’d do it this way. Now that I realize how close this new scheme is to success, I’m surprised she hasn’t tried it sooner. Pride is probably all that ever held her back. Her desire to have her daughters marry before me has likely been equal to her greed for money.
This final ploy ruins everything. All my plans. All my dreams for my future.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I reach inside my corset and take out a small handkerchief. I unfold it, revealing my secret treasure—my train ticket to the Star Court. At first, the sight of it only gives me pain and longing. Then something shifts inside me, a fiery indignation. It builds and builds from a breeze to a tempest, and I know this isn’t where it ends for me. I’m getting on that train in two weeks’ time.
Like Mrs. Coleman told Brother Marus, I am an untamed creature. And I’m getting out of this cage if it’s the last thing I do.
* * *
I tuckmy train ticket back into my corset, then check the door, peering beneath it for any clue that Brother Marus is nearby. All I find is the uninterrupted sliver of light from the parlor, telling me he must have left his post and his fruitless prayers for my soul. I creep back to the window, examining the closures and locking mechanisms. They are of far finer construction than the window in my attic bedroom, but the function is the same. With slow, careful moves, I flip the latch and gently push against the windowpane. It swivels outward, quiet on its hinge, and welcomes the fresh night air. Then, leaning over the sill, I examine my surroundings.
I appear to be on the third floor, the ground plummeting far below. There will be no dropping to my feet from here. I’ll need to maneuver to a much safer ledge. Luckily, I’m an expert climber.
My pulse quickens as I glance from side to side, studying the outer wall. It’s constructed of what looks like smooth moonstone, leaving me with very little to utilize as handholds, unlike the ease something like sandstone brick would offer. A few feet below the sill runs a cornice all along the facade. Lack of handholds remains an issue, but every few feet the cornice skirts around a decorative opal pilaster, each column slightly wider than my body. I can already envision the moves required to traverse it—hold, quick step, quick step, hold. Repeat. But what after? If I can drop to a windowsill or balcony on the second floor, I can then drop to the ground with less risk of injury.
Leaning farther over the sill, I study the second-floor balconies to the right and find light streaming out from most of the windows, marking them as most certainlynotsafe places to sneak over to. The same goes for most of the windows to the left…save for what must be a few rooms over. There I find two dark windows and a balcony between. Unoccupied, as far as I can tell. At worst, the room’s resident is sleeping. But who would be sleeping on the night of a ball?
I glance back at the bedroom door and the sliver of light beneath it. There’s still no sign of Brother Marus, but that gives me very little comfort. Who knows when he’ll return? Clenching my jaw to steel my resolve, I remove my gloves, tucking them into my bodice, and swing a leg over the windowsill. My hand-me-down hose with its many patches already appears freshly torn from my struggle with Marus. As I swing the other leg over and gather the folds of my skirt, I wonder if I should strip out of my gown and climb in my underthings. Then again, once I’m free from the room, that’s only the beginning of my problems. I don’t need the additional challenge of creeping around in my corset and petticoats. At least I wear no unwieldy crinoline, like many of the ladies at the ball have on tonight.
With as careful and quiet movements as I can manage, I angle my body so my front is against the sill. Then, clasping the ledge, I lower my body down, the soles of my shoes sliding against the moonstone wall in search of my landing place. For the first time tonight, I’m grateful not to be wearing elegant heels or dancing slippers.
Finally, my toes touch the cornice, and after securing both feet on the ledge, I begin to creep along, hands still latched to the sill, until I’m able to grasp the first pilaster. With slow moves, I step as far as I can while maintaining hold. I pause here, but only for a moment while I gather my bearings and press myself in close. Then I release the column. My heart leaps into my throat as I step quickly along the ledge, my body flat against the wall, then grasp the next pilaster. I continue like this for several minutes.
Hold. Quick step, quick step. Hold. Quick step, quick step. Hold.
Each time I reach a window, I grasp the sill and check for occupants before creeping past it. Every now and then, I look back the way I came, fearful that I’ll see Marus leaning out the window in search of me. The thought makes my heart beat even louder. It riots in my ears while sweat beads at my brow and neck.
Hold. Quick step, quick step. Hold. Quick step, quick step. Hold.
I’m panting by the time I reach my first destination—the balcony on the floor above the one I need to climb down to. Hugging the pilaster that rests just a few feet from the balustrade, I take a deep breath and plan my next steps with precision. Then I’m off with another set of quick steps before I grasp the balustrade. My feet slip beneath me, as I fail my attempt to secure them on the bottom ledge of the balcony. I bite back a scream, gritting my teeth as my feet regain purchase. Once secure, I pause, allowing my pulse to return to a somewhat less terrified rhythm. Then I move one hand at a time from the balustrade to the balusters beneath it. Hands firmly in place, I release my feet—on purpose this time—so that I’m dangling over the next balcony down.
I continue shimmying down the balusters until my hands reach the base. My arms scream in protest, muscles trembling as I struggle to keep my hold. I hazard a glance at my feet, assessing how far I’ve left to go until my toes touch the balustrade. Unfortunately, the distance is far greater than I’d anticipated from afar.
Damn my short height.
I’ll have to swing myself onto the balcony floor instead.
The chance of waking someone slumbering inside—if thereisanyone in the room—is greater, but it’s the best I can do without risking loss of balance.
I move my hands from the balusters to the bottom ledge, wincing at how my muscles quiver and ache, begging to let go already.Not yet. Not yet. I’m almost there.
Lifting my knees, I swing my legs forward. Then back. As I swing forward again, I release the ledge.
I try to catch my balance as I land, but instead, find the hard floor of the balcony biting into my hip. At least my fall didn’t make much sound. Regardless, I pull myself to stand as fast as I can, ignoring the ache along my side. I brace my hands on the rail and search the grounds, planning where to run once I jump.
It doesn’t matter,I tell myself. So long as I get away from here, away from Marus, away from Mrs. Coleman—
A sharp pain lances my stomach. I double over and narrowly avoid striking my chin on the balustrade. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, but the pain is almost too much.
Damn it.Damn it!It’s the bargain. That stupid breezing skyforsaken bargain—
