Chapter Twenty-Seven – continued
She entered into a dim, tiled hallway and surmised it was a rarely used servant entrance. It seemed practically abandoned, other than a few barrels and crates practically coming apart where they sat. Her footsteps echoed softly, but none of the doors opened. Shrugging, she hurried along, curious to see where she would end up.
The sound of low groans and pained moans met her ears first.
Ah, she thought, the makeshift infirmary. Abigail had said it sprawled across nearly an entire wing of the castle.
Finally, she stepped into a hallway full of brilliant light. Men and women dressed in bloodied gray clothing rushed back and forth. Not a hair was in disarray, but their aprons were full of bloodied handprints and swishes.
One young woman stopped suddenly in front of her. Her dark hair was poking out from under the netting it had been tucked under, but her dark eyes flashed with purpose.
“Are you here to work in the infirmary?” she asked, her voice slightly accented and clipped.
“Er, yes,” Camille said quickly.
The woman looked her up and down before giving her a tight nod. “Come with me.”
Compared to Violet, this woman walked at a stroll. Still, Camille found herself flying down the hallway after the woman. Almost out of the blue, the woman swerved right through an open doorway, making Camille have to backtrack a few steps to follow her.
It looked more like a large linen closet than a room. Makeshift shelves had been pushed along the walls and were filled with the same gray clothing and aprons as well as bed linens and towels.
Without ceremony, the woman dumped a set of gray and white in her arms and left Camille to figure out what to do with them. A little stunned at the whirlwind, she slowly made her way to one side of the room, where other cloaks had been hung. The gray robe proved to be something she could just pull over her gown and the white apron covered her from neckline to knee. As for her hair, she hoped the simple braid she’d put it into would be good enough. She didn’t see anything like the netting the woman had been wearing or, indeed, anything else she could use to tie back her hair.
Unsure of what to do or where to go, she left the room and wandered down the hall. She had no idea what this wing used to contain, but, from the looks of some of them, they could have been the quarters or offices of the court. A smile curved her lips upward at the thought.
Without warning, the woman who had left her in the room came up behind her and grabbed her arm. She bit off a shriek of surprise as the woman pulled her down the hall, past open doors where men and women groaned and moaned in pain. She caught glimpses of brightly colored hair that marked some of the people in there as the fae attending to the wounded.
“In here,” the woman said, stopping suddenly at the doorway of a quiet room before she turned and walked away.
“What am I supposed to do?” she called after her, but the woman didn’t respond.
She whirled around and came face to face with her sister.
“Abigail!” she cried out, throwing her arms around a startled Abigail.
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3 thoughts on “Sisters of String and Glass, Part 115”
I for some reason pictured Camille picking up some of the linens and then wandering around with them…then wondered if she threw them to embrace her sister. I had to go back and reread to figure out she never picked anything up to begin with 🤦♀️.
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Oops! I’ll have to go back and clarify that. Though that could also work for a task given to her…
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