I stand outside of Mortimer’s room feeling resigned. I don’t want to go in, I don’t want to stand here, I don’t know what I want to do. I put my ear to the door, wondering if Barthlew is there, but the doors are too thick and I cannot hear a thing. Even if someone is in the room I wouldn’t know.

I rap my knuckles on the door. There is no response. I dig my feet into the carpet and make little circles on the floor, wondering if I should enter. I count to ten, knock again, then with my sweaty palms I slowly open the door.

I hear whispering the moment the door cracks slightly open. Harsh whispering. The kind that parents make around their children if they don’t want them to see their fight. I should know, I’ve heard my own parents do the same whispers thousands of times. Usually something to do with money though, which was why I was sent here in the first place.

The whisperings stops when the door opens wider. Two heads turn and stare as I enter the room.

The room is large. The largest of all the guest rooms the castle has to offer. Mortimer was well loved by the previous king. Very few have the privilege to stay unconditionally in a guest room like he does. When Mortimer married Sue the king gifted them this guest room. It was large enough to be a house on its own, with its own bathroom attached to it.

I recognise the two arguing. It is Barthlew and a maid. So he is here. I should probably wait until he is alone before I...

The maid walks quickly towards me. 

“Why did you do it?” She says grabbing me by my lapel. I look at her confused. Spit flies into my face. I try to hold back my thoughts as I feel my feet lift off the floor. 

“Miranda, stop. You don’t know if he did anything or not. Let the boy be.”

“Why else would he be here except to see his handiwork?” She screams back at Barthlew. "He has no right to even be in this room!" 

Barthlew walks to her and gently removes her hands from me. My knees feel like jelly as my legs touch ground. 

“Why did you do it? Where is he? What did you do to Mikail? Everybody knows that you hate him! Jealous of him! What did you do to him! Bring him back this instant! Bring him back!”

With all my own thoughts and things that have happened, I almost forgot that this was what everybody thought of me. 

Why did everyone assume that I did something to Mikail? That I was capable of doing something to him? That I wanted to? 

But did I want to? 

I don't know what I want now. 

“Miranda, calm down. You don't know any of this. Really. Just hush. Calm down. Let's just go alright?” He shuffles her out of the room. I stand still and say nothing. I know the girl as one of Mikail’s girls. The girls that swoon all over him. “I’m sorry, I'll see to her,” Barthlew mumbles to me while getting her out of the room. “I’ll deal with this, you can … see to Mortimer,” he says awkwardly and shuts the door behind him. Leaving me alone with the comatose man.