Isabelle was far too tired and preoccupied to notice Charlotte watching her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Isabelle stirred in her bed, she awoke uneasy, feeling like she was being watched. Suddenly, realising what that could mean she sat bolt upright in bed. Alas, the eyes she met were not the ones she expected. Tired and disappointed, she rubbed her eyes lazily and willed them to open, shaking her head at the stern face which was fixated on her.
Almost swallowed by the darkness, in a high back chair, sat Charlotte Hands. Her hands folded in her lap beneath a blanket, a book on the arm next to her. She looked like she had been sat there for a long time, beady eyes watching the young woman in the bed.
“I don’t need a guard.” Isabelle yawned, pulling the blankets around herself tightly. When Charlotte didn’t answer, she closed her eyes. “Seriously? You have nothing better to do than sit and watch me sleep?” Charlotte remained silent in spite of Isabelle’s best attempt to bait her. Giving up and unable to go back to sleep knowing she was there, Isabelle got out from under the blankets and made her way to the bathroom, pausing at the door she smiled sweetly. “Do you need to come in here too? Or am I okay to use the toilet alone?”
“I’ll be right here, waiting,” Charlotte answered, without a reaction, her tone clipped and unmoving. Isabelle pouted, if she couldn’t even get a rise out of the old woman, she really was in trouble.
In truth, she was panicking now. She was supposed to be packing, getting ready for tomorrow, and how was she supposed to do that with Charlotte sitting vigil? If she had been able to annoy her or provoke a reaction, Isabelle might have been able to wrangle her leaving. But what could she do against her singular determination? And why was she even there? Had Erik ordered her to watch her? What exactly did he think she was going to do?
Escape; the answer was rather obvious. It was exactly what she planned to do.
Isabelle perched on the edge of the bath, trying to come up with an alternative plan. If Charlotte was determined to watch her all night, there was still hope that tomorrow would be like today, in that she would be left to work, alone. Brushing down her nightdress and running the water briefly so it sounded like she was washing her hands, she composed herself.
The window was still broken, open, she could escape right then.
No, Charlotte would realise too quickly, she’d be chased down and end up back in the dungeon. It made more sense to stick to the plan.
“So, how come you drew the short straw, wouldn’t you rather be in your own bed?” Isabelle asked after a long silence in which she realised she wasn’t going to fall asleep. There was too much hinging on tomorrow, exhaustion had served her earlier, but she was no longer exhausted. Her head was a mess of emotions.
Charlotte softened at her question, it surprised Isabelle for a second until she remembered Margaret’s words. She really hadn’t given enough thought to the people living here. Perhaps a little compassion was the key to softening Charlotte’s disposition; except it wasn’t entirely feigned. Isabelle felt awful for ripping Charlotte’s family apart, for turning this into her life. No doubt Charlotte was as devastated by all of this as Isabelle, both her husband and her son were exiled from her.
“There is nobody else.”
“I really am sorry.” Isabelle breathed; her apology barely audible. “I didn’t mean for all of this to happen.” To her surprise, Charlotte shifted uncomfortably, guilt briefly dusted her ageing features.
“You are not entirely to blame in this,” she reasoned gently. “We have all played our part.”
“Why did you stay?” Isabelle sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. “Why didn’t you go with Mr Hands, to the city?”
“The Master cannot cope alone.” Charlotte mused sadly, “and somebody had to stay to keep an eye on you.”
“I thought that was Erik’s job. He’s the one who traded for me, shouldn’t he be the one forced from his bed?” She snipped, but this time Charlotte didn’t look up from her books.
“The Master gets…restless…at this time of year.”
“Restless?” She asked, Charlotte gave a heavy sigh and closed her book. There was a strange mixture of expressions on her face, ones which Isabelle was struggling to decipher. She looked tired, not just because it was late, but of life. As if it were all too much. Isabelle enjoyed her game of manipulation, she would never pretend that she didn’t, but Charlotte looked like it had been eating away at her.
But for how long? Isabelle remembered the picture in Joseph’s office. Was Charlotte centuries old? Had she been there when Erik had been human?
“Yes. April is a difficult month for him at the best of times; he doesn’t always handle it well. There is a lot going on that you don’t know about, perhaps we have been wrong. Keeping you in the dark about it all.” She took a breath and Isabelle held hers. But any hope she had that Charlotte was about to divulge all of their secrets vanished when she spoke again. “But it’s too late now. We make our mistakes and we learn from them, that’s all anybody can do.”
Was she talking about their secret’s? Or was she talking about Isabelle and how things might have been if she hadn’t embarked on a fool’s mission to seduce the beast?
“You can tell me now,” Isabelle suggested, optimistically. Charlotte looked at her with a sadness that made Isabelle’s insides twist terribly.
“Perhaps I could have once, perhaps the die had been cast this way from the moment you arrived. Perhaps this is my penance.”
“Penance for what?” Isabelle hugged her knees tighter against her.
“I am old Isabelle, you don’t live as long as I have without racking up some sins. Do you know what it’s like to want to protect somebody, so fiercely, that you would compromise everything you believed for it?”
Yes. Killing Gauge hadn’t kept her up at night, it had been him or her, she had made the only choice she could. But she had been willing to kill both reporters just to keep Erik safe; she wouldn’t have thought twice if Charlotte hadn’t interrupted her.
“Yes,” Isabelle said softly. Charlotte looked sceptical. “I was going to kill those reporters.” She confessed, unsure why, she’d never told anybody that she was capable of murder before. Charlotte scoffed.
“You’re just a girl, I’m not talking about silly fancies of bravado.”
“It’s not hard to kill a man, no more difficult than putting somebody to sleep or easing their aches and pains.” Isabelle met Charlotte’s eyes and watched as the realisation dawned there. Isabelle’s ‘witchcraft’ extended beyond even that which she knew.
“I see.”
“I would do anything to protect Erik, I know that you all think I’m evil,” she swallowed, uncomfortable even saying the words, “and a witch. But I really do love him. I didn’t mean for that to destroy your lives.”
“Isabelle,” Charlotte spoke softly, “you must not apologise for being here. I have played my part too. It was my idea to bring you here.” Charlotte watched her closely.
“What?”
“I thought.” she stopped. “We have been waiting for a long time, I’d hoped that you would be the key.”
“You brought me here to break Erik’s curse?” Isabelle asked softly. She’d already assumed as much, what she didn’t know was how they expected her to do it. “I can still do it,” Isabelle urged, “just tell me what to do. If it saves Erik I’ll do anything.”
Charlotte held her gaze for a pregnant moment, it seemed as if she were on the very cusp of fitting in the last puzzle piece. When her eyes dropped away, Isabelle’s hope did too.
“I would do anything to protect my husband and Thomas, you must understand that,” Charlotte confessed though it seemed she was talking more to herself than to Isabelle. Guilt washed over the younger girl, she stretched her legs out on the bed, avoiding looking at her. The last thing Isabelle had meant to do was drag Thomas into her mess.
Whatever their mysterious curse was, it was obvious that she had not broken it.<
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“You should be with them, there’s no reason for Erik to keep you locked here too. You’re as much a prisoner as I am.” Isabelle noted, sadly. Charlotte pursed her lips and then shook her head as if shaking away all the doubts she harboured.
“It is too late, the master has locked the gates, we have nowhere to go. I am afraid we are stuck with each other, you and I.”
“He’s locked the gates?” Isabelle’s eyes widened, and she swung her legs off the bed. All worries and compassion for Charlotte evaporated with the rush of pending defeat. “But what about deliveries?”
“Are you expecting a delivery, Isabelle?” There was a wry smugness in her voice and Isabelle swallowed thickly. All the ground she had thought they had gained; Charlotte had known all along that Isabelle planned to escape.
“What about next month?”
“We will see.”
“Is any of this to do with the curse, at all? Or does Erik just delight in the idea of ruining my life?” Isabelle exploded. Charlotte opened her book and started to read again, her lips moved as she read the words.
Isabelle was panicking. Peter wouldn’t be able to rescue her if the gates were locked. Why hadn’t she considered that an option? It ruined everything, it meant that she had no way of escaping, it seemed ridiculous that she had failed to account for such a simple flaw in the plan.
She needed to compose herself, to think, away from Charlotte’s scrutiny. “I’m going to have a bath.” She half expected Charlotte to protest, but when she didn’t, Isabelle padded across the room and locked the bathroom door behind her. She turned the taps on full, as much to warm the room as to create the illusion of bathing.
Why hadn’t she thought about the gates?
The question was stuck on repeat in her brain. It was a stupid oversight, and Isabelle wasn’t stupid. Why did she not think about the gates?
She was barreling towards a life of imprisonment, spending every moment being watched. That wasn’t new, she had been a prisoner since she arrived, but why was all this happening now?
Why did Charlotte need to be in the room with her tonight?
What was she missing?
The gates. Isabelle inhaled sharply, stopping her pacing in frozen triumph.
“They’ve never been locked before.” She announced to the empty room.
Why would he ever lock them, there was no way she would have been able to escape with him around, patrolling the forests, watching her.
The pieces fell into place with a stone-cold clarity.
Erik wasn’t here.
Margaret had said it herself; they’d sent the men from the castle. They didn’t class Erik as a man, but Isabelle did, which meant that even he wasn’t safe from her bewitchment.
They’d sent Erik away too, lest she turn him on them.
Isabelle almost laughed in her hysteria.
Erik was gone.
She could escape!
Granted, with the gates being locked and Charlotte watching her every move, she would need a new plan. But there was actual hope now, hope that she might finally be free.
It all hinged on Peter.
If she could get word to Peter in the city, then Isabelle was sure they would be able to ride out of here and never look back. But how could she get in contact with him when she couldn’t even leave her room?
There was the chance that tomorrow she would be able to sneak out of the front door, but it wasn’t very likely if Charlotte was this worried about her leaving. A breeze made her bare legs break out into goosebumps and she hesitated, turning to look at the windows.
The window.
The broken, open window. It hadn’t been a viable option before, because she had assumed that Erik would be down in the shadowy forest, waiting, watching. But he wasn’t, he was gone, the forest was just a forest.
Isabelle peered out into the blackness. The roof below the window sloped steeply, and she tried to recall exactly what the castle looked like from that side. She hadn’t spent much time admiring the architecture, now she was kicking herself for it. She could drop down from the window, it was about six feet to the roof below and then it was a gentle slope until it cut off at the wall. There was a trellis awning between the first floor and the outer wall of the castle. She had her suspicions that it wouldn’t hold her weight, then again, there wasn’t much of her these days.
Dare she do it?
She would be risking her life.
The alternative was this, forever.
Erik did this every day, he used the castle as a climbing frame, she was smaller sure, but she had nothing to lose. If she fell, she might die, but it was a better option than staying here. Pulling down own of the heavy velvet curtains, Isabelle grabbed some scissors from the sink and cut through it. It took a while, but eventually, it was short enough that she could secure it around herself without it dragging on the floor.
It was at least some protection from the cold night-time air. More than her silk nightgown offered.
She left the bath running, in the hopes that the noise would drown out any sounds of her escape.
Isabelle climbed over the edge of the window, making sure to avoid the jagged spires of glass, and began her descent into the night.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The climb down was dangerous. Isabelle had almost slipped a few times. Though by some gift of fate she made it to the bottom with nothing more than a few scratches and a slightly twisted ankle. Once she was over the wall, she was completely lost in dense forests. She knew that there was a back road, behind the castle which led to the city, but she also knew that if she used the road she’d be found too quickly. Barely a few feet from the wall and it was already pitch black, Isabelle could scarcely see a hand in front of her face. She settled down letting her ankle rest until the sky started lightening. Isabelle had never been so happy to see pre-dawn, or so grateful for the thick weight of the curtain which had kept her from shivering. She set off as soon as the sky was light enough that she could make out the outline of trees.
Isabelle kept close to the looming wall of the castle grounds; she followed the curve of the wall for a long time. When she finally saw the break in the trees, she let herself take one last look at Erik’s castle. Isabelle had known there was a back-gate straight down to the city. She stood in front of them, admiring the castle, a huge black shape against the sky. These gates were nothing compared to the ornate, enormous wrought irons ones which sat before the bridge. They were long rusted, but locked tight none the less. Her fingers ghosted over the thick chains which closed them. Only Erik would have been able to wrap the thick ropes of metal around them.
Isabelle didn’t step onto the road; it was little more than a dirt track. It might have been a definitive road once, but now the forest was on the verge of swallowing it.
So, she had decided it would be stupid to walk along the road, she would be too easily spotted. Instead, Isabelle utilised the forest to disguise herself and gingerly picked her way through the dense foliage a few feet inside the tree line. That way she would be able to hear any carts coming, and she hoped against hope that she would meet Peter on the way.
Her hopes faded as the morning drew on, by noon she was thirsty and exhausted. Her feet were bruised and hurting more with every step. She couldn’t shake the notion that she didn’t seem to be getting any closer to town. There was nothing to mark her progress, just tree after tree. She was going downhill, it should have made it easier, but it didn’t, Isabelle was too exhausted. Maybe staying in the castle would have been the better choice? At least she would have been warm.
No, she rebuked herself for even thinking it, this is your freedom. Your only chance.
How could it possibly be this far away? What if she was going in the wrong direction? Perhaps it was her, maybe she wasn’t making the best pace as she limped along. Feeling sorry for herself she stopped. Leaning against a bent tree, she looked up to try and gauge the time, unfortunately, the ancient canopy obscured the sun. It was then,
in the stillness of the forest, that Isabelle heard a low growl.
She froze.
Not here. Not now. Not when she had come so far.
Isabelle fought the urge to cry, or sob, she scanned her surroundings but saw nothing. No hulking form, no glowing yellow eyes. She couldn’t hide from him, not here, not anywhere. And she couldn’t outrun him. There was a rustle and her head snapped to the side. She almost laughed in hysterical relief. It was just a wolf. An emaciated and desperate wolf.
Dangerous, but not Erik.
Isabelle swallowed and stayed still for a long minute, then she reached slowly for a stick at the bottom of the tree. The movement caused the wolf to lunge, but Isabelle had the stick. She threw her weight behind a swing and the branch crashed into the wolf's head. It retreated with a yip. Taking the opportunity, she moved from the thick forest to the smooth road, where she could at least run.
Isabelle knew that there would be more wolves, though she had no way of knowing how many. Or even how brave they were, this was Erik’s forest after all. Looking behind, she thought she saw the shape of the creature which had attacked her, it hadn't left the safety of the trees. She ran down the steep path as fast as she could, ignoring the pain in her feet and ankle. Eventually, she had to stop, panting for breath, she dared a glimpse back to see if any of them were following her. The voice from behind her almost made her scream. Almost. Instead she stifled it and turned.
“Peter!” She gasped, relief flooding her.
“Isabelle, I...?” He looked at her, her outfit, and then back up the road.
“They locked the gates.” She panted, “I had to escape. Then I saw a bloody wolf, of all things, is the city far?” He didn’t say anything, obviously trying to make sense of the mess he’d gotten himself into. It only took a few moments for his chivalry to kick back in though.
“It’s not far, no, I’m barely fifteen minutes out. I wish I’d brought the cart now, but they’ve blocked off the road. No horses or wagons allowed.”
The Beast Queen Page 19