I’m not going to stick around to be a bargaining chip.
Uncurling from my pity ball, I pace over to the window. It’s still daytime, and ironically, it’s a bright and sunny day. Who would have thought a place called the Shadow Realm would get sunshine? A brochure would have been nice.
Unlike the Council’s castle, there’s no city wrapped around Morgana’s place. At least not on the side that my room is facing. Instead, green hills extend out from the castle walls until they meet a massive forest. The forest stretches over the horizon.
That could work.
Looking down, a quick count of windows reveals I’m on the third story. It’s too high to jump but not too high to get creative.
I test the latch, and the window swings open without issue. Turning, my pulse starts to pick up. I might be a sorry excuse for a ghost whisperer and thief, but maybe I can cut it as a prison breaker.
I might not have any real-world experience with most situations, but I’ve read enough books to have mad survival skills.
At least, in theory I do. Whether those skills translate into real life will be another matter entirely.
My focus lands on the pile of blankets on my bed. I’m going to assume that fabricating a rope out of bed sheets is cliché for a reason. The sheets are a soft cotton, but they must be high quality because my measly muscles can’t tear them.
Bummer.
Rolling my lips between my teeth, I look around the room for something sharp. Sin was probably smart enough to remove all the knives and scissors in the room before I woke up. But if he didn’t think to put bars on my window, then he’s underestimated me.
Big mistake on his part.
My eyes lock on the still-open bathroom door, and a grin breaks across my face. Mirrors can be sharp.
Pulling the pillowcase off the bed, I wrap it around my hand as I dart back to the bathroom. I almost snort when I remember that breaking a mirror is supposed to give you seven years of bad luck. Considering my shitty past and most recent break from normality, I don’t think anything I do will change my relationship with lady luck.
I’m already on her bad side.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I punch the mirror. After a sickening crunch, I peek, only to see it’s the mirror that cracked and not my fist. My hand aches, and I flex it a few times. I don’t have any broken bones, but that hit is probably going to leave me with another wicked bruise.
Yet again, I hold my breath, waiting to see if someone will barge into the room and catch me. For all I know, the only reason Sin walked away from my room was because he had a guard stationed outside of it.
Nothing happens.
Bingo.
Gingerly picking out the largest mirror shard, I get to work. I think movies may have downplayed the effort that goes into making ropes from blankets. The seconds stretch into what feels like hours as I tug the mirror shard through the sheets. With every ripping sound, my eyes dart back to the door, waiting to be caught red-handed. And I mean literally red-handed. I should not be trusted with sharp objects. Blood coats my hands from the dozens of cuts I’ve managed to give myself.
Finally, my blood, sweat and tears are rewarded when I hold up a braided rope. I’m not sure it’s strong enough to hold me, but I’m ready to risk it.
The only person I can trust is myself. Beyond my glaring issues with Leon, I have no faith in the Council or the person who voluntold me to be Leon’s Keeper.
I’m positive Need deceived me on purpose. She made it sound as though Sin and Morgana had only just escaped when she roped me into her supernatural affairs. And no part of me has forgotten what Leon told me about Sin’s powers. Sin specializes in mind control.
I refuse to have my free will influenced again.
With my rope ready, I move to the end of the bed but pause when I glance at the chest. I probably should have checked it before I made my rope. Maybe the chest will have something warmer to wear or shoes. Shoes would be great.
As I open it, the hinges make a loud squeak, and I cringe at the sound. If someone is guarding my door, there’s no way they didn’t hear that. But again, nothing happens. Exhaling, I look inside.
The chest’s contents confirm my suspicions that Sin didn’t leave any weapons for me to find. It’s mostly full of empty journals, and to my delight, there’s also a warm cloak. My chances of freezing to death just got marginally smaller.
Grabbing the cloak, I also think to shove one of the journals into a pocket, so I can use the pages to start a fire. How I’ll make fire is a mystery, but I am focusing on one problem at a time.
With my new supplies tucked away, I get to work on tying off my rope to the foot of my four-poster bed. Hopefully, the bed is heavy enough that it won’t drag across the floor once it’s supporting my weight.
Is knotting the rope four times considered overkill?
