Chapter 8

Charlotte walked to the window, smiling. She wondered why the knight had come.

The window was closed. And though she could open it with a little effort, she noticed that the heavy iron bars had only been installed recently.

"Why are you here?" She asked him.

"I thought we could start our investigation, but I see that you are… tied up." He answered, smiling.

"I won't be for long, I know a way out." She said, remembering the old tunnels. She hoped she could still fit in them. "Where did you want to start?"

"The dungeons. They have the guard that did it down there, we could speak to him." He said, watching for her reaction.

"How would we get to the dungeons?" she asked him.

"I thought you would know." 

"And how did you get up here?" she asked, remembering how high up the windows on this side of the palace were.

"I climb," he answered proudly. "Are we going or should I just continue hanging around?" he was smiling.

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that she would get a chance to speak with the person who had killed her friend. She was not sure how she felt about it. She was afraid she would be irrational if she saw him. She was afraid of her anger.

"Charlotte, maybe I should go alone…?" The knight asked, noticing her sudden silence, the screws turning in her head.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said laughing. "Why would I let this opportunity to leave my prison pass? Besides, you need me to go in."

"Will you be okay in his presence?" There was concern in his voice. Charlotte ignored it.

"I'm sure I can take him in a fight." She said, smiling. "I'll meet you outside." She said and shut the window before waiting to hear his response.

She turned towards the bookshelf, hoping no one had thought to seal the opening to the tunnels behind it.

She managed to move the bookshelf between huffs and puffs, only to find that the wall had been repainted, and the opening along with it. Making it hard to notice the little cracks that signified a movable slab that led to the tunnels. She could spend hours pushing a solid wall before she found it.

She sighed, the only way to open this tunnel would be from the other side. The only other way out would have been the window, but the new bars prevented anything larger than a cat from passing through.

She was almost giving up when her eyes fell upon the door that joined her room to Oliver's. She realized that this door too had only been installed recently. It had not been there when they were kids.

She wondered what the purpose of the door was, but didn't care enough to think about it for too long as she realized she could use it to leave. If the door was open, she could escape through the window in the other room.

There was only one problem. Oliver, whom she had just attacked and hurt, was probably on the other side. She wondered if he would open the door for her if it was locked. She imagined that perhaps he had already left, but she knew that she would've heard his doors open and close.

She wondered whether he knew that she was locked in her room, and if he would let her escape through his. He was probably very angry with her, but she felt very little remorse for the way she had reacted. He had not answered her question, and as cruel as the king was, he never would have forced his son to marry anyone. 

He was the one who insisted Frederick remain a bachelor until he was ready despite the council's repeated advice to secure the throne. She knew that despite his cold heart, the king cared for his son's favor. At least he had cared for Frederick's.

He had never really bothered about Oliver. Her heart hurt for him, but only for a second. Though she loved him, she would not marry him if she could help it. And if she couldn't, she preferred to die instead. If only she was sure that the king wouldn't hurt the people she cared about.

She locked her doors from the inside, ensuring she would know if someone had come in while she was gone, and stood before the connecting door, trying to muster enough courage and audacity to try it.

Taking a deep breath, she crossed her fingers, put her hand on the door, and turned the lock. It was not locked. She peered into the room and found it empty.

She let out a breath of relief, going in and shutting the door softly behind her.

She was tiptoeing towards his window, when his bathroom door opened and he stepped out, freezing at his door and staring at her in disbelief.

Charlotte smiled weakly, waiting for an action to determine her reaction, but Oliver just stood there, staring at her. It took a solid half a minute for Charlotte to realize that he was half naked, with only a small towel around his waist.

A second later, his two maids joined them, with his robes and oils in their hands. They too froze, unsure of what to do.

Charlotte found herself staring. Noticing little details she never would have thought to look for before. She noticed the way his wet hair fell and clung to his face, how much darker it was while wet, contrasting beautifully with his pale skin, his busted lip, where she had punched him.

Her eyes trailed down to his smooth, muscled chest. Had he been this toned before? She noticed the angry purple bruise where her knee had met his abdomen and winced, coming back to reality, and lifting her eyes to meet his curious look.

'Sorry about earlier,' she wanted to say, instead, she pointed to the maids. "I'll go my way and let these beautiful ladies dress you," she said and turned the window. There was a hint of jealousy in her voice everyone in the room except her noticed.

She grabbed a sword by his bed and turned to him, the maids' horrified looks brought a wicked smile to her face. She sheathed the sword and clamped it to her waist before any of them could scream.

"I'll have to borrow this for a while," she said, before squeezing through the window and dropping down to the bushes below.

She did not notice Oliver's amused smile as she left.