Grumio lets out a loud, unintelligible scream that I'm sure could be heard even outside the castle's walls.

My blood turns to ice. "Shhh! Keep quiet!"

But he doesn’t.

"Help!" he shouts. "Guards! Guards!"

I act before I think. As he draws air for another yell, I step forward. In a flash, my fist connects with his left cheek. He flies back to the wall and slides down. I grab him before he hits the floor. Holding his limp body, I turn and find Oliver next to me, a dagger in his hand. We pause, looking up the stairs, hoping against reason that nobody has heard this. Then, we hear the door opening above us, and a noise of multiple feet.

"Fuck!" someone says. "What's with all the water?"

My mind is racing. They will come down and find us. We can't open the door. We're done, and poor Grumio will pay, too, for his stupid twin's actions.

Twin. An idea flashes through my mind. It's crazy, but it's the only one I have.

I push Grumio into Oliver's arms. He frowns at me confusedly. I point for him to hide in the corner. Then, I grab the bucket and rush up the stairs.

There's four guards on the landing, and one of them has already begun to descend. I run past him up to the landing. There, I drop to my knees and bow my head.

They pause, and I can feel their eyes on me.

They will know. Slaves are trained for most of their lives, and I'm an outsider. It's written all over me that I don't know what I'm doing. Slaves are supposed to kneel when facing the guards, I know that much, but am I allowed to speak to them? Look at them? It's death penalty for looking at the members of the royal family—at least if you raise your eyes above the knee level. I think it's less strict with the knights, but once again, all we know is second hand information. Slaves don't exactly leave the castle to share their experience.

"Well, well," says one of the guards, and his brown leather boots stop in front of me. "And this is?.."

"Grumio." The one I passed on the stairs returns to the landing. "He must have dropped the bucket. A strong one, but dumb as a rock."

My fingers begin to curl into fists, but I force them to remain open around the bucket. Grumio was never dumb. He was the smart one. He could do everything better than I.

"Yes, but why did he yell like that?" Brown Boots prods my thigh with a butt of his spear. I clench my teeth and bow even lower, so that all I can see are the polished grey stones of the floor.

"The bucket," I mutter. "It fell…on my foot. It…hurt."

"Oh, he's talkative today," says someone, and then something hits me on the head with surprising force. I fall to my side, clutching the empty bucket to my chest. They laugh. My first instinct is to get up and fight, but against four armed men, my chances are slim. I remain on the floor, hiding my face.

"Get up, you worm." A foot kicks me in the back, and I groan in pain. "Where's the second bucket? Didn’t you carry two? Or did you drop it as well?"

I shake my head.

"Get up and deliver the second one, then. His highness needs another bath."

They chuckle and I can only assume there's some insiders joke here. I get to my knees, then up to my feet, still looking down, water drippings from my clothes.

Then, a noise comes from the downstairs.

"Wait, what was that?" says Brown Boots. "Did you hear that?"

His feet move out of my field of vision and he begins to descend the stairs.

I step back, positioning my back against the wall. This is it. We’re busted. Oliver has a dagger, so he'll take care of Brown Boots, but I will have to handle the remaining three. In the narrow stairway, their long swords won’t be very useful. Yet even if I succeed, how will we leave the castle?

I expect a shout of alert or the sounds of a fight to come from downstairs, but it’s still quiet. Then, Brown Boots comes back.

"Nothing," he says. "Couple logs must have dropped to the floor."

I breath out. He couldn’t have missed Oliver and my brother in that small space. That can mean only one thing—that they aren’t there anymore. Oliver must have found a way to open the door. He and Grumio are safe for now.

I wish I could say that about myself.

"Up you go," says Brown Boots. "What are you waiting for? The Whore Prince is waiting for his bath."

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