Sisters of String and Glass, Part 139

Chapter Thirty-Five – continued

Muriel came into the room, bearing a tray and a smile. Camille had to stifle the desire to take a deep breath. She could smell Helene’s delicious herb-rubbed roasted chicken that was surely accompanied by browned potatoes slathered in fresh butter and asparagus steamed to a perfect green color. She could also smell freshly baked bread that made her think of her sister.

The slam of the door and the sound of a key brought her back. The small smirk on Muriel’s face had Camille’s eyes dropping to the woman’s feet, where she’d dropped the letter opener earlier.

“Your dinner, daughter,” Muriel said, mockery lacing her voice as she placed the tray on a table as close to the door and as far from Camille as she could get it.

“What are you doing?” Camille demanded, a thundercloud on her brow and her hands clenched into fists. 

Muriel raised an eyebrow. “Why, just bringing you supper.”

Camille growled deep in her throat. “I mean, what are you doing by imprisoning me? What’s your grand scheme? I’ll be sure to inform my father of this.”

At that, Muriel gave her a pitying look. “I forgot. You don’t know.”

Camille’s eyes narrowed and her fingers twitched. Her voice was low and dangerous as she spoke, but Muriel only cocked a slight smile. “Know what?”

Instead of answering, Muriel’s hands fluttered and she looked around her waist, patting at her hips. “Now where did I put them?”

“Muriel!” Camille barked, but the woman ignored her. Her jaw clenched, she fought the urge to throw herself across the room and grab that letter opener twinkling at her from just behind where Muriel stood.

Ignoring her, Muriel drew some folded papers from a pocket and held them up triumphantly. A smile Camille did not like had spread across her face. It turned into a smirk as she darted forward and rested the papers on top of the tray.

“If you ever want to leave these chambers, I advise you sign those.”

Camille’s teeth ground together, reluctant to give Muriel the satisfaction of hearing her ask what the papers were for. The slipping of Muriel’s smile told her she was right.

With her lips pressed together and a steely look in her eyes, Muriel turned and reached out to knock lightly against the door. As it opened, she started to inch her way out.

Camille thought that would be that, that Muriel would slip out and she wouldn’t see the woman again. Instead, Muriel glanced back at her and her eyes softened for just a moment.

“I’m sorry, Camille, but your father is dead.”

Stunned, Camille’s jaw dropped and she stared at the door as it clicked shut and the lock turned.

“No,” Camille whispered, her hand flying to the glass around her neck, her fingers turning numb as a chill spread through her chest.

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