As much as she didn’t want to be in the dining room, she felt the absence of the safety it provided. But she wasn’t going to be a mouse and slink back because things were quiet. Going to her room was something she would have to do sooner or later, and maybe it was best to do it when all the people here were in the dining room. Unless it was a member of the staff responsible. Either way, walking around the hotel was a risk.
With hurried steps, she entered the hallway, seeing two neat rows of closed doors. Lanterns were spaced, close enough to provide sufficient light down the hallway, but it was hardly bright.
A creak had her freezing and stopping, and she quickly turned to see if anyone was sneaking up behind her, but there was nothing there. Nothing had changed in the hallway, no doors had opened, and no one was walking behind her. Then she looked back the way she’d been walking and there still wasn’t anyone.
Her heart was in her throat and that creeping feeling of dread reasserted itself. The stairway was only a few yards away, but she feared meeting someone on it. A place where she had no sight until she actually got there.
As quietly as she could, she stepped over to it. The upper story felt even more remote. Someone could attack her there and the others wouldn’t even hear. Now her strategy to shift to her room when everyone was in the dining room seemed stupid. This was the perfect time to subdue her and carry her away. No one would notice, and the staff were busy with the supper service.
Taking a deep breath, she drew herself together. No point standing there. If someone was going to attack her, they were going to. Either go back or continue. She felt torn. Looking up the stairs, she saw only darkness, the merest light coming from the landing upstairs. Really, why couldn’t they put more lighting in the hallways at a time like this?
Pulling up her skirt, she started up the staircase, fear dripping off her. She tried to ignore it—pretended she wasn’t scared, but she was trembling if one looked close enough.
At the landing, she peeked around the corner and saw nothing, then she ran to her room, stopping when she got there and remembered she had to get her key out. Why hadn’t she prepared?
The damned thing seemed stuck in her reticule and her fingers were clumsy. The moment of looking down made her feel exposed and intermittently, her eyes searched each direction of the corridor—aware there was a spot behind her that was unguarded.
The key fell from her fingers and she almost cried in frustration as she quickly bent to pick it up. Shoving it in the keyhole, she unlocked the door and slipped inside, quickly re-locking the door again. She’d made it. A deep breath accompanied her relief. Now she stared into the warm room that was only lit by the fire. It had been tended to.
Never in her life had she been disturbed by servants coming and going, but now she was intensely aware that someone had been in her room. As before, she lodged the chair under the handle, which had her giving up her usual seat by the fire. The feeling of safety was worth it.
Putting the reticule down, she took off her shoes. It really wasn’t good staying here. She’d been attacked, and she feared for her life. Why was she torturing herself like this? Because she’d want Oliver to do that for her if the tables were reversed. Maybe he wouldn’t have, she wondered. How would she know he would? She barely knew him.
Exhaustion nipped at her. It had been a trying day. A day so long. She’d been accused, disparaged, beaten and helpless. Each day, it seemed that her mood and disposition sank lower and lower, as well as her situation. The constable wasn’t making things better, and now she truly needed help from the rational world she knew back home.
Feeling despondent, she undressed and then unpinned her hair. Oliver’s toothbrush still sat by hers, waiting for him to return. It made her sad seeing it forgotten and forlorn.
The sheets were cold as she got in, but her body was grateful to lie down. It felt as though she could sleep forever. Right now, she didn’t know if her dreams or her reality was worse.
Sleep took her quickly.
The familiar scene of the battleground surrounded her. The earth charred, bodies unrecognizable beyond a simple form. She didn’t want to be here, but knew there was no walking away from it.
Carefully, she placed her feet on earth and not something else. Fear sat deeply in her belly like a weight. She wasn’t welcome here—this wasn’t a place for her.
Mist formed and undulated around her, making everything seem far and distant. There were others, beings she didn’t want to meet—beings she feared. Over to the left, such a being, clad in rags, was searching through the bodies for loot. A crow picked. Clemmie watched it, the familiar shiny black eyes watching her. There was intelligence there, and she feared the crow would squawk and draw attention to her.
Mist enveloped her and she couldn’t see anything for a moment. Then faded to reveal the hill of bodies, and the Roman standing on top of it with his spear, and the red cape. With his broad, stern face, he surveyed the land. What he saw from up there, she had no idea. Maybe he was looking for a way out too. Clearly, he hadn’t found it in all this time.
As she feared he would, his eyes shifted down to her. “I told you not to come here.”
“I am trying to find a way
