His mother never left Owen’s thoughts. He had not returned to see her since the last time, wary of alerting the guards. Worry gnawed at him. He had to rescue her as swiftly as possible. It was time to prepare.

  His plan gradually took shape. Yet one crucial question remained: where could they go to be safe? How could they escape his father? Perhaps there existed a place so hidden that even his father could no longer reach them.

  During his lessons, he questioned his tutor, scoured the books, and thought he had finally discovered what he needed.

  Days passed, and he had now grown to the size of a seven-year-old child.

  ???

  The girl had spent an entire month in the dungeon. Her face was drawn, dark circles under her eyes a testament to her mental and physical exhaustion. Her body was cold. Her clothes were torn and filthy, her hair unkempt and tangled; nothing hinted at the slightest care having been afforded her in some time. The squalor had left its mark upon both body and mind.

  The door opened with a loud creak. Her eyes half-closed, the dim light demanding great effort to discern the visitor, she did not lift them. Every movement cost the little energy she had left.

  A shadow approached her cell, bending down in backlight, silent. Motionless, it seemed to watch her for long, tense minutes. Then, a voice she would never forget rose in a whisper, chilling her to the bone:

  “Thy time shall soon come. Be thou ready.”

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  The figure left without saying anything more, leaving her alone with those words. But she no longer had the strength to reflect on their meaning.

  ???

  Later that day, her meal was brought. She had not touched food for several days. Yet this time, something was different. The handmaiden, permitted to enter the cell for the very first time, carried a large basin of hot water brought by a guard. She had him hang drapes across the bars.

  The guard locked the door behind him and left, leaving the two women in private. The handmaiden helped the girl to her feet. Weak and dizzy, she barely stood, yet she allowed the care to proceed without flinching. Shivering, she did not respond to the little attention she was finally given.

  The handmaiden worked methodically, washing the girl with a damp cloth, rubbing energetically. The touch of the warm water made her shiver, offering a faint physical comfort despite her condition.

  After cleaning her thoroughly, the handmaiden helped her into clean clothes, then had her sit on the floor and gently combed her hair. Each slow, deliberate motion conveyed care. The handmaiden whispered softly into her ear:

  “Be strong, My Lady. It will soon be over.”

  The girl heard the words but could not sort through her thoughts. After a long pause, she murmured:

  “What will happen to me…?”

  “I do not truly know… I was ordered to care for you today. Is that not somewhat good news? He has not forgotten you, during these past two years…”

  Two years. She had turned twenty in that very cell. Staring into the distance, she said nothing.

  After tidying her hair, the handmaiden stood and called the guard. He opened the door, removed the drapes, the tattered clothes, and the now-dark basin of water. Once again, they left her to her fate. Sitting there, her gaze and mind adrift, she had not noticed the apologetic look her handmaiden cast upon her as she departed.