The search for Romana and Benvolio continues with little progress. One by one, Lord Capulet has the servants and maids questioned, but as none know the answers he seeks, he grows more frustrated and determined to make Chimere talk.

The sound of Tybalt’s voice as he talks to the guards outside the dungeon sends a shiver down Chimere’s spine.

“We just finished searching Chimere’s room, milord.”

“And?” Tybalt says.

“We didn’t find anything of note.”

“Search again, and be sure to search the other maids’ chambers as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had help hiding evidence.”

“Right away, milord!”

She hears the squeak of the door and looks up as he stops before her cell. Tybalt has always been imposing, but since being locked away, the meer sound of him strikes fear in her heart. The horrible memory of the sting of his hands as he slapped her around and Lord Capulet’s closing around her neck, stealing her breath, haunt her dreams. She scoots further away as he enters the cell.

“Just how long are you willing to hold that tongue of yours?” Tybalt says coldly. “Do you enjoy being beaten?”

“N-no, milord,” Chimere says weakly. “Truly, I don’t know where milady is.” Tears blur her vision. “I would never wish Lady Romana harm. Never. She is like a sister to me.”

“If that were truly the case, you wouldn’t have aided in her kidnapping,” Tybalt sneers. “Just what were you offered to betray your lady so?”

Chimere holds her tongue, biting her lip hard. 

Tybalt tosses a paper and pen on the ground. 

“We know you know something, Chimere,” he says, “and we’ll get it out of you one way or another. When you’ve had enough, write everything you know down. Maybe then Lord Capulet will consider mercy.”

He slams the door to the cell shut as he leaves.

“Cut her food supply,” he barks to the guards. “We’ll see if hunger will make her talk.”

“As you wish, milord!”

Chimere curls in on herself as the sound of his imposing footsteps fade. She wonders how much longer she will be made to endure this hell. Was there an escape? After all, there is no guarantee that even after Romana’s return, Lord Capulet will forgive her transgressions. She eyes the paper and pen. Her mind turns to Julius. 

He should be by Romana’s side right at this moment as she receives treatment. If only Chimere had thought to ask to be taken too. Hope lights in her chest. Perhaps it isn’t too late. Surely if she were to get a letter to Julius, he would come for her. Fueled by hope, Chimere grabs the pen and paper and writes a letter to Julius. Hot tears stream down her cheeks, but she quickly dashes them away in an effort to keep them from smudging the words on the page.

With her letter done, she carefully folds it and waits for the time to pass. Soon, between waking and dreaming, she hears humming outside her barred window. She scrambles to the bars, calling out to the maid. 

“Wait!” she hisses. “Please!” She slips the paper through the bars. “Pass this to Friar Laurence.”

“It is dangerous to do this, Chimere,” the maid hisses back.

“I’m begging you,” she pleads.

A moment of silence before a sigh.

“Fine,” the maid says. “But this is the last favor I will grant you. Any more and I risk the dungeons. The Lord’s mood has been most foul these days.”

“Thank you,” Chimere says, sliding to the ground. “Thank you.”

⬥⬥⬥

Romana sits in bed, finishing the porridge Julius has given her and daydreaming about her future. She wonders where Benvolio will take her. Perhaps they’ll go to the countryside where the air is fresh and the hills go on for miles. Or maybe they’ll go to another city where no one knows their names. Where they can start fresh and truly build a life of love and freedom. She thinks about all the things she’ll get to do and see, and her heart is full to bursting with happiness.

Julius enters the room and smiles at the sight of her.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” he says, taking her empty bowl. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. I’m feeling much better, but that’s not what's making me so happy.”

Julius chuckles as he passes her a mug.

“Would you care to share?”

“I was just thinking about my life with Benvolio.”

Julius’ jaw tightens though his cheerful expression stays in place.

“Oh?”

“The possibilities are endless,” Romana gushes. “We could go anywhere and do anything and there will be nothing and no one to stop us.” She sighs. “But I think the best part of all is that I’ll have him by my side to experience it with.”

“Are you sure there won’t be anything you’ll miss?” Julius asks. “Verona is your home after all.”

“And I’ve hardly seen it.” Romana shakes her head. “I’ll miss Father and Chimere, but I can’t give up this chance for them.” She chuckles. “I’m sure Chimere would never forgive me if I did.”

“What about me? Won’t you miss me?” He drops his gaze to the ground. “I’ll be terribly lonely without you. Who will comfort me when Father is too much?”

“Oh, Julius.” She grabs his hands and pulls him beside her. “We’ll see each other again. It’ll have to be in secret, of course, and I don’t know how often we could manage it, but—” She squeezes his hands. “I’ll write to you. You’ll know where I am and how I’m doing and you can tell me the same. It’ll be like old times. You’ll see.”

Julius offers her a weak smile, all the while his anger is growing by the minute. He just barely contains it as he rises to his feet.

“You should get some more rest,” he says, struggling to keep the irritation out of his voice. “You’re still recovering.”

“Julius,” she calls as he heads out the door. “Thank you for everything you’re doing for me and Benvolio. Truly. You’re such a good friend.”

He smiles.

“All I want is your happiness, Romana.”

He closes the door, his grip tight on the handle as he locks it.

“And you’ll realize soon enough that your happiness is with me,” he growls under his breath to the empty air. 

⬥⬥⬥

“Mercutio!” Friar Laurence says as he notices him at the market.  “Just the man I was hoping to see.”

“F-friar Laurence,” Mercutio stutters. “Good day.”

“Yes, yes. Let’s skip the pleasantries. Pass this to your master will you?” He hands Mercutio a letter. “I would give it to him myself, but I’m much too busy.”

“O-oh, well—”

“Excellent.” The Friar waves, already heading on his way. “Give the young Montague my regards.”

Mercutio stares at the letter, recognizing Chimere’s handwriting. Having heard word of her arrest, he suspects the letter is asking for help. He sighs. Julius will not answer her pleas. Mercutio wonders if he should even bother to deliver it. If he didn’t deliver it and Julius found out somehow—he shudders at the thought. It would just be best to hand it over, he thinks to himself, and resumes his shopping.

Elsewhere in the market, careful not to draw suspicion, Benvolio moves through the shadows, eyeing the crowd. While he looks for leads to the poison Romana was given, he pays attention to the conversations around him, hoping he’ll hear something of interest. All the while, he thinks of Romana. Who would do this to her? If he had to say, his first suspect would be Chimere, but he finds it hard to believe she would do such a thing. From everything Romana told him of her, they are like sisters. He refuses to believe someone who cared for her that deeply could betray her in such a way. As he tries to put the pieces together, he spots a familiar face.

Mercutio.

He was in the room when Lord Montague confronted Benvolio about his involvement with the Capulets. Mercutio was the only one he told his secret; he didn’t want to believe he betrayed him, but he was never given the chance to question him. Now is probably as good a time as any. He follows behind Mercutio, hood pulled low, and calls out to him as he heads down the road toward the Montague manor.

Mercutio’s shoulders jump, his heart racing. 

“M-master Ben—”

Benvolio places a hand over his mouth, glancing around.

“There could be ears listening,” he says, voice low. “I'm a wanted man, in case you haven’t heard.”

Mercutio nods his understanding and moves to distance himself once Benvolio releases him.

“R-right. Forgive me.”

“I must speak with you,” Benvolio says gravely.

“Y-yes? How may I help you?”

“Not here.”

Mercutio tightens his hold on his shopping.

“I’m afraid milord is expecting me soon,” he says hastily. “If this could wait until a later time—”

“Wait! Tell me, why were you in Lord Montague’s study that day? Why did you betray me?”

Mercutio’s heart sinks. It is getting harder to breathe. He can feel his world closing in. What would happen if Benvolio found out the truth? Would he have pity on him? Or would he berate and beat him as Julius does?

You’re just like Julius.

Recalling Benvolio’s words, any courage he may have had leaves him, replaced with fear. Without a word, Mercutio runs as fast as he can.

“Mercutio!”

As Benvolio prepares to give chase, he notices a piece of paper falling from Mercutio’s pocket. He doesn’t recognize the handwriting, but as he reads, his mind races as he finally starts to understand that Julius may have a few secrets of his own.

When Mercutio returns from shopping, he tries his best to appear as though nothing is amiss lest Julius get suspicious.

“You got everything on the list, I trust?” Julius says, going through the bag.

“Yes, milord,” Mercutio says, head bowed. 

He remembers the letter, and reaches in his pocket. His heart sinks. He searches his other pocket and comes up empty. As he searches his person in vain, Julius notices Mercutio’s panic. His eyes narrow.

“What?” he growls.

“N-nothing, milord,” Mercutio says quickly, straightening. 

“Nothing?” Julius turns his full attention to Mercutio. “You wouldn’t be fidgeting around for nothing. So tell me,” he folds his arms, “what happened?”

Mercutio bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I was given a letter. . .fr-from Chimere.”

“And?”

“I-I lost it, milord.”

Mercutio jumps as Julius slams his fist onto his desk.

“How?” Julius says coldly.

“I-I-I—”

“Out with it!”

“I was running away from Benvolio, milord,” Mercutio says hastily. “I-I must have dropped it then.”

Mercutio’s world tilts, his body slamming into the ground, the side of his face on fire. He can taste blood on his tongue. His eyes rise to meet Julius standing over him, his fists clenched.

“Why were you running from Benvolio?” Julius hisses. “What does he know?”

“N-nothing, milord! I swear! He only suspects—”

Julius punches Mercutio again, his head slamming into the floor. He groans, his nose bleeding. He feels Julius’ tight grip in his hair.

“What did you tell him?” Julius demands. “Tell me!”

“N-nothing!”

Julius slams his head into the ground once more before tossing him aside. He hurries to his desk, and grabs a bag of gold and his cloak. Without a glance, he locks Mercutio inside his chambers and hurries into town.