Their eyes met and he half smiled, exhaling his relief.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Alice paced back and forth, rehearsing aloud how she planned to apologise to Grace. It was the middle of the night, but she dared not sleep for fear that she’d forget everything and have to remember it all over again in the morning. She couldn’t bear the thought of those few sleepy seconds of blissful ignorance before her world caved in once more.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She pulled a heavy black velvet overcoat on over her nightgown but left her feet bare; she didn’t want to risk the heavy thud of her boots betraying her. Grabbing the bronze candlestick, which had a candle in it that still burned brightly, she fled her room and tiptoed down the corridor. If she could get past the rooms in this part of the lair, she’d be away from the sleeping quarters and, thus, away from any prying eyes.

The smell of bubbling porridge and rich chocolate filled the air, and Alice knew she was approaching the kitchens. She pressed herself tightly against the wall and peered round the corner, checking for any other midnight wanderers, but she was entirely alone.

A few more tiptoed steps and she pushed open the door to the kitchens as gently as she could. As she suspected, the porridge was bubbling unattended on the stove, with a vat of warm chocolate drink by its side.

Rolling thunder sent dust dancing down from the stone ceiling. She hated storms. Alice paused, shivering, listening out for any signs that she’d been followed. She allowed herself a few deep, calming breaths and her heart slowed its ceaseless hammering. That was when she heard the trickle of rain. Drip. Drip. Drip.

She hadn’t heard rain, or any weather, since arriving at the lair. The stone was thick and all-encompassing; they lived in their own isolated kingdom without any hint of the existence of the outside world. So why could she suddenly hear the storm?

Placing the candlestick down on the worktop, Alice followed the sound of the rain. And then she saw it. There was a round vent close to the ceiling, hidden from view by the shelves upon shelves of kitchen ingredients. And it was swinging open on its hinges.

Before her courage could desert her, Alice hitched up her nightgown and began the precarious climb onto the worktop and then up the sturdy shelves towards the vent. The smell of the falling rain and the fresh, fresh air gave her the strength to ignore how high up she was; she was glad that all those years spent climbing trees hadn’t gone to waste.

Just as she thought her muscles might give up on her, she heaved herself up and out through the vent, stumbling onto the saturated, mossy ground. She lay there on the damp floor for a few moments, enjoying the feel of the cool water hitting her face. She closed her eyes and could almost imagine she was back at the cabin by the brook, when it was warm enough to swim even in a rainstorm.