The refurbishments are well underway. Most of the changes are cosmetic, involving new fabrics, wallpapers, and furniture, but a few areas require some remodeling. Thanks to the deep pockets of the LaVelle Duchy, mages are working alongside the designers, greatly expediting the process.

It's still a disruptive process, but it could be worse. I could still be cursed, for example. Or stuck in Finery Boutique all day again, like yesterday.

Today, I itch. And not in a way that I can scratch. 

After pacing one of the few hallways not occupied by designers or mages, I finally realize what’s wrong with me—I’m restless. I feel trapped within the walls of the annex and my body wants to move, to escape.

In the hellscape, I was always on the run. The maids told me that I constantly thrashed about in my bed and that they had to strap me down to prevent me from harming myself and them. Whenever I moved around in my nightmares, I moved around in real life, too. The hellscape hadn't been entirely contained within my mind.

I was used to running and jumping and kneeling and climbing. 

I had done all that and more to try and outrun the Toad Man and the Claw Woman, two of my most frequent apparitions, not that I ever succeeded. I hid under charred branches and sooty rocks, crawled on my belly under fallen logs and debris, and even swam in water as thick as soup. I'd rolled down rocky hills, crouched in high, dry grass, and pressed myself into jagged crevices more times than I could count, all to try to escape the horrors of the hellscape.

My shoulders twitch—my body needs to move.

Can I sneak away from the maids? Even if I do…I glance down at the dress and realize how impractical it is for exercise. In the hellscape, had I worn anything? I can’t recall any clothing ever snagging...it's useless to push further, because whenever I think of myself in that place, I only ever recall shadow.

“What can I wear…?” I ask myself, wandering down the hall. I stop and glance out the window. 

Aha!

 ♥♥♥⸸

Despite the restrictive, ostentatious dress I’m wearing, I am still able to steal some of the stable boys’ livery from their closet. Maybe somebody saw me, but if they did, they knew better than to blab about it.

I change clothes in one of the smaller guest rooms that had already been refurbished, leaving my dress and underskirts behind. Unfortunately, the corset has to stay. My hair, already up in some kind of ladylike style, is shoved under a cap to the best of my ability, but some peeks out no matter how much I shove. 

“It’ll have to do,” I mutter, staring into my reflection, the restlessness rising within me. The boots, too, are not ideal, but they are better than the heeled monstrosities the maids normally try to force me into. They’ll likely be ruined during my expedition, but I can always buy more with the very generous allowance father has granted me. 

Now I just had to sneak out.

I’m good at sneaking. I press my ear to the door, then open it a crack. Seeing nobody, I dash to the end of the hall to the servants' stairs and run down, then out the back, hunched over through the garden, and to the old path my sister and I had discovered as children. I had banked on it still being there and thankfully it is. It eventually leads to a crumbled section of wall that a grown person can climb over easily.

But once I get to the wall, I stop. This short jaunt outside already feels good, so do I need to take it further? Over this wall is LaVelle land, so I wouldn’t be trespassing...but it is a forest. It isn’t as protected as well as the grounds. 

If something happens to me, nobody will know. Likely, nobody would care to look for me, possibly for several days. 

“Gah!” I shout, the anger shooting up through me. I leap over the wall and sprint along the earthen path, barely visible as it winds through the trees. 

That’s right—nobody would care if I disappeared. It might even be better if I did! 

Each step into the soft earth pounds that thought deeper and deeper into my brain. Gerald might care, but nobody else would. 

I thought I was done with the tears, but they start to fall again while I run, blurring my vision.

Do I care? No. My feet must run. My legs must rid themselves of this wretched restlessness that’s plagued me for days. 

“Ah!” Something snatches at my head and I trip—pain shoots through my knee as it sinks into the earth. 

“What…?” I wipe my eyes on my sleeve, trying to clear my vision.

My cap hangs from a slim tree branch, swaying from the impact.

“Is that how it is?” I ask the tree, snatching my cap back. A sharp, broken-off limb had ripped it down the center. “Oh.”

That could’ve been my forehead had I been an inch or two taller. 

“Darn it all,” I mutter, shoving the useless cap into a pocket.

Thankfully, my knee doesn’t hurt too badly. Fifteen minutes of walking is all I need to feel better, then I can continue my run. I don’t care how far I must go—I will go until I no longer feel like I will fly into a thousand pieces. 

The walk back will be fine, I tell myself, there is plenty of daylight left and nobody will miss me.

I run again, listening to the rhythm of my breath and the strong beat of my heart swooshing in my ears against the backdrop of the wind shuffling through the leaves and creaking through the branches. 

There is no warning before a high pitch swoop flies past my ear followed by a thunk as the arrow hits the tree in front of me. I don’t think, I just move, relying on my years of instinct in the hellscape to get low and roll off the path onto my belly in the high grass. 

Were they aiming at me? Me?? 

“We’ve got you surrounded, intruder,” a voice calls out. “That was a warning shot. Ye best come out with your hands up before we start poking the grass with our swords.”

Intruder?? Me?!? There seems to be a horrible misunderstanding!

My breath comes in fast pants, so I swallow several times, crouching in the grass until I’m calm enough to raise my hands, hoping they won’t get shot with arrows or stabbed.

When they don’t, I peek my head out to see I am, in fact, surrounded by men. Some are on horses but most are on foot.

None of them are wearing LaVelle colors. Darn it.

“What do we have here?” one of them says.

“A misunderstanding,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster. “I’m Lady Florence LaVelle, so if you’ll simply escort me back home, I can reward you for your efforts.”

The man snorts. “You? Lady Florence?” He looks around at his men and they all chuckle. “Unlikely. That evil witch has been asleep for seven years. Besides, she’s a redhead, and you’re a…say, what are you?”

I glare at him. “I am Lady Florence LaVelle. I woke up last week,” I reply as coldly as possible. “This ‘evil witch’ as you call me has been through hell the past seven years, which included losing my natural hair, and you dare to call me an ‘evil witch’ to my face? Forget a reward, you’ll be lucky my father doesn’t arrest you all for slander and pursue the most severe punishment once he finds out how you treated me.” 

The chuckles start to die down. 

“At least do me the courtesy of telling me where I am,” I press. “All I was doing was following this path from the LaVelle lands.” I point to the direction I came from. 

“That’s another thing,” the man says, his brows drawn in concentration. “If you are a lady, then what are you doing dressed like that, all the way out here alone, running, and slithering off the road like a snake?”

“Unbelievable! Now I’m a snake?” I glare at him with a bravado I do not feel. “I was restless. Believe it or not, while I was ‘asleep’ for seven years, I was not actually sleeping as you would at night. In my mind, I was very much awake. I had to keep myself safe from…you know what, I do not owe the likes of you an explanation. Now, I demand you return me to Duke LaVelle.”

The men, all much taller than me, glance at each other, then silently agree to split. Half of them watch me while the other half break off and walk away to discuss me.

I cross my arms and try to look as unbothered as possible, but inside my heart is racing faster than when I had been running, and I feel like I might vomit. 

“Does anyone have a sip of water?” I ask, glancing around the group. 

One of them walks over to the other group and I watch as a man with black hair hands him a waterskin. The water is warm, but it helps.

Finally, the discussion group disperses, and a tall, blonde man from the other group walks over.

“If you’ll come with me, Lady Florence, I’ll take you home,” he says, offering a slight bow. My cheeks redden slightly because I can’t tell if he’s mocking me or not. He brings me to a tall horse and I stare at it with large eyes. “May I help you…”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. He easily picks me up and places me in front, then mounts and settles in behind me.

“You’re small enough, we both fit,” he comments as we start to move. 

“What’s your name?” I ask.

He pauses before answering. “I’ll tell you when we get there, my lady,” he says, guarded.

So, they still don’t believe I am who I say I am. I look down at my hands.

I suppose if all they know of “Evil Lady LaVelle” is that she has red hair and that she has been asleep for seven years (and counting), someone like me claiming to be her would be rather suspicious. Perhaps people have already claimed to be me. 

That doesn’t make it sting any less.