“I was given the order to bring it,” Ferris says. “So here I am. I’m following orders. I can leave if you want, but you might get into trouble.”
Ferris is doing such a great job.
There’s a pause. The sound of the cloche being lifted. I hear someone chewing. Then the cork being pulled from the wine bottle. A sloshing sound. Someone drinking.
The guard is sampling the food and drink, which is standard practice to ensure that it hasn’t been poisoned.
I grit my teeth when my right calf starts to seize. The muscle tightens into a knot that sends fire up the back of my leg. I want to shift, to stretch, to do anything to relieve the agony. But I can’t move. Any sound, any shift in the trolley’s balance, and it’s over.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek and will the cramp away. It doesn’t help.
“All clear,” the guard finally says. “Go ahead.”
The trolley moves.
We go further down the corridor. Then we stop. Ferris knocks on a door.
My cramp hasn’t let up. The muscles between my shoulder blades have also started to burn from being so folded.
“Who is it?” It’s a female voice.
“Your dessert and wine, Ruler General,” Ferris says.
A pause. “I didn’t order anything.”
My blood goes cold. After everything, she might still send him away. Every muscle in my body screams to move, to get out, to do something.
There is silence, and it lasts long enough for me to count five of my own heartbeats.
“Bring it in,” she says, sounding irritated.
The door opens. The trolley rolls forward over a thick carpet that muffles the wheels. The air changes. It’s warmer and scented with something floral.
“Leave it there,” she says.
“Yes, Ruler General. Have a good evening.”
Ferris’s footsteps retreat. The door closes behind him.
Thank you, my friend.
The Ruler General moves around the room. There’s the sound of wine being poured. A sip is taken, and then the cloche is lifted. A pause as she inspects whatever is beneath it. Then the cloche is replaced with a soft metallic ring.
I stay still. My calf is on fire. My back aches. My legs have gone numb in places, and the numbness is worse than the pain because it means blood isn’t getting where it needs to go.
She moves again. Footsteps crossing the room. Another door opens and partially closes.
I wait, counting to sixty.
When no sound comes from the other room, I ease the tablecloth aside.
Every movement is agony. My legs don’t want to cooperate. I slide out from under the trolley inch by careful inch, lowering myself to the carpet. I stretch my right leg and the cramp releases all at once, a relief so intense I have to bite my tongue to keep from gasping.
I get to my feet. My legs tremble beneath me. Pins and needles race through both calves as the blood finds its way back. I roll my shoulders a few times as I press myself into the darkest corner of the room and wait for the feeling to return to my limbs.
I can see the sitting area from here. The trolley sits where Ferris left it.
I contemplate going in now. Confronting the Ruler General before Isla arrives.
