Chapter 11 CHAPTER 11
The silence that followed felt heavier than before, pressing in around me as I stared at the door, my chest tight and my thoughts racing. I didn’t know how long I stayed like that, sitting on the bed with my hands still clenched, my body too tense to relax and too exhausted to move. At some point, the weight of everything caught up to me, and despite the fear still sitting in my chest, sleep pulled me under.
When I woke, the room felt different. The fire had burned lower, its light softer now, casting long shadows across the stone walls. For a moment, I lay still, my mind slow and unfocused as I tried to remember where I was, what had happened, until it all came rushing back at once.
My eyes shifted across the room.
That was when I saw it, a tray sat on the small table near the bed.
I pushed myself up slowly, wincing as pain pulled through my ribs, my gaze locked on it as if it might disappear if I looked away. Food. Real food. Bread, still slightly warm, and something else beside it, along with a cup of water.
My stomach tightened painfully at the sight, hunger hitting me all at once after two days of nothing.
I glanced toward the door. It was still closed. Still locked, and no sound from the other side.
Carefully, I shifted off the bed, my bare feet touching the cold stone floor as I stood. Every movement felt cautious, uncertain, as if I expected him to step back in at any moment. But nothing happened.
I took a step toward the table, then another, my eyes never leaving the tray.
He had said I would eat.
My hands trembled slightly as I reached for the bread, the warmth of it surprising against my cold fingers. For a moment, I hesitated, doubt creeping in, but my stomach growled loudly, sharp and demanding, making the decision for me.
I brought it to my lips, and took a bite. “Oh, God…” The words slipped out before I could stop them as I took another bite. This had to be the best bread I had ever tasted. It was soft and warm, almost melting in my mouth like butter, and for a moment I forgot where I was, forgot everything except the taste.
I wasn’t a good cook. The bread I usually baked came out thick and hard, something you had to force down with water or milk just to get it past your throat. But this… this was different. It was light, soft, and rich in a way I had never experienced before. I could eat an entire loaf in one sitting without even thinking about it.
Or maybe that was just the hunger talking. After two days without food, anything would probably taste like this.
I swallowed, and the movement sent a sharp pain through my ribs, stealing the breath from my lungs. My hand immediately moved to my side, pressing gently against the sore spot as I tried to steady myself.
“Slow down, Vera,” I muttered under my breath. “Small bites. The food isn’t going to run away.”
I forced myself to listen to my own advise, taking a smaller bite this time before reaching for the water. The cool liquid eased the dryness in my throat, and I took a careful sip, my eyes lifting as I finally allowed myself to really look at my surroundings.
The sleeping chamber was huge. No… not just huge, unnaturally huge.
I couldn’t understand why anyone would need this much space just to sleep. Back at the cottage, everything had been in one room, our bed, the kitchen, even the small space we sat in. There had never been room for anything extra. But this… this felt like a place made for someone important. Someone who wanted space.
The walls were made of stone, old and worn, with cracks running through them and dust settled along the edges of the furniture that remained. It didn’t feel abandoned, but it didn’t feel cared for either. Still, even with the damage and the neglect, I could see what it must have once been, grand and beautiful.
Soft hints of blue and faded gold lined parts of the room, barely visible beneath the wear, like the remains of something grand that time had slowly stripped away. If the broken furniture was gone, if the dust was cleared, I could almost imagine how it once looked—clean, warm, and filled with life.
My gaze moved slowly across the space, taking in every detail. Even the bed I had been lying in was larger than the entire kitchen back home. Thick fur was draped over the grey-blue bedding, soft and heavy, adding that comfort touch of warmth for the winter.
my eyes swept through the room, then my eyes caught it... a balcony.
The word formed in my mind before I could stop it, my eyes locking onto the large doors at the far side of the room. They stood slightly open, just enough for the cold air to slip through, carrying with it the faint scent of clean air and freshly fallen snow.
“How did I not see that before…” I whispered.
Hope flickered through me. I carefully set the bread and water aside, pushing myself to the edge of the bed. Pain shot through my ribs as I shifted, making me wince as I slowly placed one foot on the cold stone floor, then the other.
For a moment, I just stood there, breathing shallow breaths to ease the discomforting pain.
When I finally straightened, I took a few slow breaths, trying not to inhale too deeply, trying to keep the pain from getting worse. My body protested every movement, but I ignored it.
I hesitated before taking my first step, because I knew it was going to hurt, but I did it anyway. I had to, because if there was even the smallest chance that balcony led to a way out…I was going to take it.
Rose bushes had grown over the edge of the balcony, their vines thick and wild, covered in long, sharp thorns that curled around the stone like they had claimed it for themselves. Some of them had pushed their way through the cracks, forcing themselves into the room, as if nature had slowly begun taking this place back.
It was strange. I never saw roses that could survive the cold of winter, not even the trees made it through the bitter unsettling cold.
I stepped closer, careful with each movement, and glanced over the edge.
My breath caught.
The ground was far below, the drop steep enough to make my stomach twist. The castle stood against the side of what looked like a cliff, high and isolated, with nothing but snow-covered land stretching out in every direction. From where I stood, I could see just how far up I was, and it was terrifyingly high.