Silently, we tip-toed out of my room with no lamp, light, or any other object to guide our paths. The rain had long since begun to drum on the roof and even though we were quite far from its showers, we could still hear the quiet pitter-patter all around us and it felt as if phantasms and spectres were drifting through the dark, cavernous halls around us.

"Your step, Liz; keep to your toes and shift your weight smoothly when you move."

Adrianne was astonishingly quicker now, with no sign of her former, clumsier self to be seen; she zipped here and there, as if she were a mouse in the undergrowth, hiding from a vicious wildcat. Soon enough, she had stopped near a large niche in the wall, behind a supporting column, about halfway to the corner where the halls intersected.

I was not as swift, attempting to keep her words in mind and it took a good deal longer before I had managed to join her there, squeezing in behind. It would not be less than several years until I had mastered her technique and for every day I suffered learning it, she suffered twice as much in teaching.

"Eliza, have we any cover past this point?"

"The stairs, as well as the landing, are the only two areas where we won’t have any. I’ve been caught there the most times when I snuck out and the memories are not as pleasant as I would have you believe."

My calves ached in that moment, with phantom pains as I recalled images of Mother's sleep-deprived, irritated glare with a long, thin stick in hand; it was etched many, many a time over into my young mind back then. I rubbed my arm, grimacing.

She stifled a chuckle, clearing her throat, "When do the guards return to patrol this area?"

"Last I recall, I'd say we have about an hour."

Adri's eyes gleamed, her brow furrowed in thought, "We will not make the landing in time; we spent far too long in wait," She cursed, muttering something foul under her breath and stunned me before a heavy thunderclap brought me back. The rain was growing worse still; Mother and Father would be unbelievably lucky if it managed to let up by the morrow after dawn. A pit of worry gnawed at me.

"Is there anywhere to hide, then? Just until they pass us by?"

"Look to the left, there, near the corner. There is a small guest room that isn’t being used currently. We could easily hide while the guards pass; the maids always say it is haunted and dare not enter. The guards won’t return for another two hours either, since the West Wing is far larger than the South and with more spaces to seek out - I dare say we might even have three full hours, if we're lucky."

"If it's dusty in there, I might sneeze and we’ll get caught; what will we do then, I wonder?" She chuckled.

I slapped the back of her head, "Quiet, Adri; if I recall correctly, you agreed to this!"

"Ouch! You’re the one who came up with it, you imp!"

"Don’t blame it all on me, fool!"

"Then don’t you blame it on me, toad!"

“I didn’t do such a- what?!”

I was puzzled by that particularly colourful insult, but did not get a chance to retort; Adri froze and frantically whispered, "Hush, someone's coming!"

She squeezed back into me and we waited, motionless.

A few maids, though I do not remember who, passed the hallway in front of us, muttering of something while their lantern grew brighter and brighter and brighter still, then dimmer as they walked past. Another flash of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating the space for a moment. The ceiling felt higher than usual, for some reason, though I cannot exactly place it.

We settled for another five minutes, waiting for the dim light to vanish, before Adri looked at me and nodded. We bolted toward the guest room, skidding around the corner to the left.

The heavy door heaved shut, with what seemed to be the loudest creak known to man and a small wave of dust was kicked up. No one ever chose to clean this room, nor did guests want to stay in here - it was far too dark, even in the daylight and the dust picked up more easily than in any other place; I believe Mother had planned to convert it into a storage area at one point, although it would probably only be used to store the old portraits from the gallery. She never did, though and it remained an old, abandoned room.

Adri sniffled, holding back a sneeze. She let out the quietest 'achoo' imaginable and made me giggle, before the clank of metal armour forced us to freeze; the muted sound of the guards' footsteps echoed closer and she dove into the wardrobe, shoving old coats around to muffle the noise. I paused for a moment, hesitant, but soon the growing echoes of metal-plated footsteps had me jumping in beside her.

Of all the places to hide, why the wretched wardrobe?

My heart began pounding louder, the air becoming more and more cramped; I began wheezing, my heartbeat in my ears as loud as thunder; the crack let in light and air, but it was not enough for me. I began to fear I would pass out again, until Adrianne gripped my arm to steady me.

I am safe here. I can still get out. I can still breathe.

"What was that?" One of the guards paused outside the door, pushing it open with a hand on his broadsword. Adri and I both put our hands to our mouths, muffling our breath.

"Who keeps a broadsword in their lord's manor??" Adrianne whispered to me, peering through the gap between the doors, "He'd be better off using a bastard sword, or a Longes Messer, or even a leaf blade longsword! Why a broadsword?? What is he doing with his life?!"

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

How on earth she managed to recall those various types of sword, or even identify that particular species in the dead of night and in the midst of such an ordeal will forever be beyond me. I suppose it was a given, though and considering her background, she would be far more familiar with swords than I, spending many a day training with the Devienne knights.

"I don't know, now shut up! They'll catch us otherwise!"

We both grew still, trembling with trepidation, before the guard turned back to his companions.

"How on earth His Grace lives with this room in his house is beyond me."

The pause that ensued made Adri and I wonder if they had left, for the crack did not reveal much at all in the first place and the darkness from the storm shrouded what little we could see even more, before the other guard turned to respond to him.

"Silence, Harold; we needn't understand His Grace Hestion to serve our duties and in any case, this place is not of our business. Come, let us move to the West Wing; I heard something clatter there, if I am not mistaken." He seemed annoyed and his patience incredibly worn thin.

That wardrobe was as suffocating as the one I was locked in directly after the incident and I am still surprised that neither Adrianne nor I sneezed again while cooped up there. The only saving grace I had which prevented a full panic attack was her hand on my arm, with a warm grip that kept me steady.

We waited there until three thunderclaps had passed by, the rain never letting up a single time. Soon, once we felt assured the guards had left, we crept out as quietly as possible and the whole time we spent there, in the darkness, I recall taking deep breaths to steady my feet; I feared what would ensue should we ever get caught.

Dashing out of the small room, we bolted left again, this time into the hallway we were meant to take.

"Quickly now!"

We nearly tripped around that corner, almost panting from the sprint and if I am not mistaken, Adrianne seemed to pause once we had reached the landing, her eye catching at a moving shadow in the distance; she was shaking her head, muttering foul words under her breath again and it was hard for me to see what exactly she had been so perplexed by.

"It can't be..."

What is she on about?

We were huffing by the time we reached the second flight of stairs and it was drawing near to the time when the next set of guards were to arrive. I believe the hem of my robe had caught on the railing, for I recall a sharp tug on my leg, nearly sending me tumbling down the incline and a heavy panic set in as the thunder growled in the distance.

"Eliza!" Adrianne whisper-yelled, suddenly conscious of my struggle.

She rushed back to me, grabbing the hem of the dress and pulled fast. Lights flickered at the end of the hallway and voices drew nearer still as Harold and his companion made their way back toward the landing. A sinking feeling permeated my chest, hope fading fast; I should have remembered that, although the West Wing was larger than the South, the guards did not patrol fully to the end of the halls unless there was cause for concern; the two hours I had predicted were in reality, about half an hour in each direction and I had trusted my own blind and conceited faith over reason, like the silly little fool I was.

We're going to get caugh-

Another few tugs from Adri and I had been released, nearly falling over from the recoil; as quickly as I could, I retrieved the fabric still on the railing, then we dashed up the stairs, narrowly escaping the guards' attention. At the moment they appeared around the corner, a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder echoed in the halls, masking the sound of our toil and giving us sufficient cover to escape into the North Wing.

For my young mind, the hallway to the North Wing seemed especially empty, cavernous and dead, with sterile white marble, black trim and few gilded accents. I did not realise until much later that Father, in his adorable, doting manner, had practically tailored the entire manor to suit my preferences, with a lovely quartz interior, golden accents throughout and veins of rose-quartz highlights. Amethysts and onyx stones were also a part of the South Wing, shining like stars in the middle of the night and a beautiful butterfly canopy room was constructed beneath my room for my own personal entertainment, though the butterflies had long since died away. For all his affections though, he did not decorate the North Wing the same and it showed in the cold atmosphere devoid of murals or tapestries. Not even suits of armour could be seen at any point; that hallway was the barest of corridors I had ever seen, with not a single place to hide and everywhere to be found.

Near the entrance to the hallway, with Father's study at the end of the hall and branching to the left, was the worst area of the North Wing - Mother's personal interior garden; it was the place she forbade me from entering the most, more than the studies, or the attics, or kitchens and simultaneously it was the place I loved the most; I still remembered when Mother held me in there as a baby, when it sported bright green grass, silver railings for the soft spring tendrils to grow on and many a hyacinth blossomed wondrously. I remembered those times where she let me crawl amongst the soft grasses and she braided my hair with daisy flowers and when she would lie down and face the ceiling with me as a child. That place soon became a poison to me, after she switched her affections to Marcus and every time I passed by in the years following, I would clench my fist in bitter envy.

We passed by that room, not sparing a single glance, before standing directly in front of the carved mahogany wood, towering over us.

Looking back on that moment, I should have regarded it strange for the study door to be unlocked, open and almost inviting; Adrianne pushed through quite easily and as we peered inside, it seemed to me as if the papers on Father's desk beckoned to us.

Surely there was something we could use to counterfeit Marcus' reports.

As I made my way to the desk set majestically in front of the tall, menacing bookshelves, Adri moved to attend the papers on the coffee table: she found letters to peers, socialites, colleagues and Heaven knows who else, all organised into various brown-coloured folders of manila.

She began picking at one of the seals, using Father's letter opener and a thin cloth over the handle to slide under the wax and gently pushed the fold over. As she scanned the letters, I glossed through the papers on his desk; at least, I was doing so, until one particular paper caught my eye. One laid underneath hastily, with creases and light crumpling marks from where it had been stashed.

"Oh my-" A peal of thunder cut me off and I glanced up, "Adri!"

"Liz? What is it?" Adrianne faced me, whispering from her work.

This cannot be.

I looked down at the file, then back up at her. It was not possible. It could not be possible. It should not be possible.

She quickly crept up beside me, aware of the guards' patrol outside. Peeking at the long, scrawling letters, we read the full file, until finally, she let out a silent gasp.

We looked back up at each other, an unspoken agreement passing between us in the manner of seconds. This was not information Father would have left on his desk; he was, for all his soft-heartedness, a meticulous man and certainly not one to leave an important file such as this precariously open on his desk; I had difficulty finding any birthday letters he hid in Mother's room and any that I did find never showed such hasty imprints, much less something like this.

It meant that someone else had been here, someone who was not fully aware of Father's habits and someone who was digging for classified information. My mind snapped back to the moment Adrianne had paused on the landing, shaking her head and then, it all clicked into place.

We had to get out of here, as soon as possible.