Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales #3)(55)

I shut my eyes and make myself get a grip. Ridiculous. Elle will find Edward and he’ll rescue me, that’s for sure. I did not come back to Athelia, only to be sentenced to death before I could be reunited with Edward.

I’m not sure how much time passed before we enter the prison, and I find myself being pushed in front of a large woman who’s as tall as the policeman. There’s a frown on her face which looks like it's perpetually etched, and as she comes towards us, the jingle of keys coming from her pocket is audible.

“What’s this?” She wrinkles her brow. “Why’re you bringing a lady in here?”

“She’s no lady, Gemma,” the policeman says. “She tried to impersonate Princess Katriona. Heard she wanted to get her hands on a house off Longbourne Street in the princess’s name.”

She gives a low whistle. “You don’t say! How did they find out she ain’t the real one? She looks lady enough for me.”

“Seems that the real one came along when she was almost done. She could have gotten away with it. I saw Princess Katriona and couldn’t tell them apart. They’re as alike as peas in a pod.”

The matron, Gemma, looks intrigued and even slightly impressed. “So what’s she got—deportation or hanging? Better not be long-term imprisonment. We’ve been getting so many, this place’ll fill up soon.”

“She ain’t got a sentence yet,” the policeman extracts a paper and hands it to Gemma. “Got to wait till the trial.”

“I warrant the magistrate won’t go easy on her,” Gemma snorts. “You know the woman who’s hanged right now? She was a maid who passed forgery notes for her employer. He got off, placing the blame on her.”

I make a noise of incredulity. Gemma’s sharp ears didn’t miss me.

“If I didn’t learn you tried to steal from the princess, I’d take you for an innocent. Things like that happen every day—you can get away with anything as long as you can pay for it.”

The policeman seems to remember something when she utters the last sentence. He does a weird gesture with his hands—some secret code between them—and she nods.

“Let’s get the girl to her cell first.” She fishes out a large bunch of keys from her pocket, looks over them with squinted eyes, and selects one. “Bring her along.”

I’m led to a tiny room that doesn’t have any windows. On the way, I’ve passed a miserable sight—women of all ages huddled behind bars, most of them with sullen looks and hollow expressions. A few of them even have babies.

“No one could afford to take care of ‘em, so they had to bring the little ones along,” Gemma says, when I pause before a woman prisoner feeding a baby in her arms, and two more lying at her feet. “Move along, we don’t have all day.”

However horrified I am, I believe it’s worth coming here. However Edward cares about his people, it’s unlikely he’d try to visit a prison. And even if he did, Gemma mayn’t let him see the real thing. He’s a person of importance. If he reports of the ugliness of the prison, Gemma could lose her job.

I also notice that most women prisoners are wearing shapeless gray uniforms of some coarse material. Will they also force me to strip off Elle’s expensive gown (possibly the nicest one she owns)? Another shiver runs down my spine.

Then a hand shoves on my back and I stumble into a tiny room. It reeks of an odor I’d rather not speculate, the floor littered with rat droppings—I’ve never seen rat droppings, but I guessed it from the vanishing tail of a rodent that scurried away when we entered.

“Is the room to your liking, Your Highness?” Gemma makes a mock bow, and I avert my eyes. “Consider yourself lucky that you get a cell to yourself. If it weren’t for Lady Elle’s generosity, I’d throw you in with the others. We ain’t got space for everyone.”

I know I should be thankful. But still, the tiny cell makes Mary’s cottage look like a five-star hotel. The lack of windows accounts for the horrid smell. The bed looks hard, the blankets have holes, and the mattress is filthy. There’s a waste bucket that’s equally filthy. I shrink away and my back meets cold hard stone.

Gemma ignores me; she’s probably used to prisoners looking horrified at their lot. Seizing my chain with a strength that could rival a man's, she links the end to an iron ring jutting out of the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t escape.” She snaps the chains in place, the click of iron sounding ominous in the room. “Lady Elle paid for an upgrade, but Lady Pembroke also requested for extra surveillance. I ain’t risking my neck over a prisoner.”

I’m reminded of my escape from Jér?me’s chamber. If Jér?me had chained me to the bed, I couldn't have escaped. I couldn't have met Edward in the masque and returned to Athelia.

“Well then.” Gemma inspects the padlock on the door, then fixes me a stern gaze. “Don’t try anything funny, or I could have you whipped. You hear me?”

I nod. What else can I do?

“Have a good night, Your Highness.” She giggles (got to say it’s pretty disturbing), and the door clangs shut, followed by the ominous sound of the key turning in the lock, sealing my doom. I’m plunged into darkness, except for the light filtering through the slit under the door.