Mrs. Brennen showed us the kitchen, where a dozen older women were busy preparing all sorts of delicious food. At first glance, the place seemed to be in complete chaos — people shouting, running back and forth — but after watching for a while, I realized how well-coordinated they all were, how smoothly their movements fit together like clockwork.
Next, we went down a set of stairs to the laundry room, where piles of unwashed dishes were stacked high. The next stop was the washhouse, where heaps of clothes, linens, and rags were gathered. The air was thick with the sharp scent of disinfectant, and after a few minutes I began to feel cold — it was freezing down there. The cellar was nearby as well, with one room storing food supplies, and another lined with shelves of dusty wine bottles — perhaps hundreds of them.
Mrs. Brennen talked endlessly, showering us with what she called "important information," though I doubt I remembered even half of what she said. Instead, I focused on memorizing every corner of the castle, already thinking about how I might escape from this place.
By the time noon had passed, we were given a short break to eat in the dining hall reserved for the staff, located beside the kitchen. They served us something like a stew — it was green, with strange black bits floating in it — and a burnt meat patty. I poked at it with my spoon in disgust, frowning as I watched the other girls shovel it eagerly into their mouths. I forced myself to take a small bite, but the moment the taste hit my tongue, I wanted to spit it out. Somehow, I managed to swallow, but there was no way I could eat more than a few bites.
The door suddenly slammed open, and everyone's head snapped in that direction. The old hag — whose name, I later learned, was Mrs. Margaret Cox — entered with her chin held high, gliding through the room as if she owned it. I quickly lowered my head, hoping she wouldn't notice me; for some reason, the crooked-nosed witch had taken a particular dislike to me.
"I see you finally made it here," she said to Mrs. Brennen, who only looked up at her questioningly. "We finished about an hour ago," Margaret added, her tone dripping with mockery as she flashed a smug grin.
"That may be your priority," Mrs. Brennen replied calmly, "but mine is to ensure my students learn everything properly. That takes time."
Margaret snorted angrily, clearly not pleased with the response.
A small smile tugged at my lips — it felt strangely satisfying to see someone put that vile woman in her place.
"Or perhaps they're just slow learners," Margaret said coldly, looking down on her.
The dark-haired woman didn't reply. She simply ignored the jab and continued eating in silence. The old witch walked slowly past the tables, her sharp eyes scanning every face — until she stopped right in front of me.
"Does the food not please you?" she asked, her voice directed squarely at me.
I slowly lifted my head and met her brownish-green eyes, forcing a bright smile onto my face.
"Oh, it's divine," I said sweetly.
For a brief moment, she seemed taken aback — maybe she hadn't expected an answer — but then her lips twisted into the same mocking smirk.
"Then eat up," she said, grinning as she pulled out a chair and sat down, watching me closely. "Unless, of course, you've changed your mind."
The room fell silent. Every pair of eyes was on me. I met her gaze, refusing to look away, then lifted my spoon and started eating the revolting mush. I swallowed every last bite in just a few minutes, forcing myself not to gag. When I was done, I allowed myself a small triumphant smirk — then stood up abruptly and ran straight to the nearest toilet, where I threw it all up.
For a while, I sat on the cold floor, my back against the wall, eyes closed as I tried to steady my breathing.
"Are you alright?" asked a soft, gentle voice.
When I opened my eyes, a brown-haired girl was kneeling beside me, her face filled with concern. She looked familiar — and then I realized she was the same girl the old hag had been gripping by the arm that morning in the bathhouse.
"I think so," I murmured quietly.
She sat down next to me and smiled.
"That was incredible — how you stood up to Margaret like that. You're so brave."
Her words warmed me. No one had ever called me brave before. I'd never thought of myself that way — but perhaps situations like this demanded a kind of courage I hadn't known I possessed.
"That witch won't crush me," I said after a moment. "Though I'm sure it'll get me into trouble eventually. Still — she deserves someone to stand up to her."
"I agree," the girl said, smiling wider. "I'm Julia. What's your name?"
"Carina," I nodded.
"I think we should go — the tour isn't over yet," she sighed, getting to her feet before offering me her hand. I took it, and she helped me up.
When we returned to the others, I was relieved to see that the hag was gone.
Mrs. Brennen led us outside to the courtyard. The group had started to warm up to each other; some girls were laughing at jokes or peppering our guide with curious questions. I walked at the very back. Sometimes Julia drifted beside me, and we exchanged a few quiet words, but mostly I kept to myself.
The fresh air did wonders for my uneasy stomach. The sun was warm — not oppressively so, but pleasantly, its touch tingling softly on my skin. We walked across the green lawn, then turned left and found ourselves in a magnificent garden that seemed to stretch endlessly across the estate.
Everywhere I looked, there were perfectly trimmed hedges and flowerbeds shaped into circles. Blossoms of every color reached up toward the sky — a breathtaking display. My mood lifted just from the sight of it. Then I froze when I saw a pathway lined entirely with roses.
They came in every shade imaginable, their petals glowing in the sunlight. I couldn't decide which one to smell first. I lost myself in their fragrance, moving from bloom to bloom, long after the others had walked on ahead. For a moment, I wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, surrounded by those flowers.
But suddenly, I realized I couldn't hear the others anymore. Their chatter had faded completely. A strange feeling crept over me — unease prickling at the back of my neck. My heart began to pound wildly. I turned around, scanning the bushes, certain that someone was watching me.
There was no one there. Yet the feeling didn't leave — the sense of being watched clung to me like a shadow. I stepped away from the roses and started to follow the others' path, glancing nervously over my shoulder. Then, for some reason, I looked up toward the castle.
A man stood at one of the windows — and he was looking straight at me.
My heart began to race so violently I thought it might burst from my chest. He was too far away for me to see his face clearly, and by the time I blinked, he was gone.
Maybe… maybe I had just imagined the whole thing.