Gisela stepped back from the window so her stepmother and stepsisters couldn’t see and gloat over her. The carriage rolled away, and tears once again fell from her eyes. But she couldn’t be crying. She had to do something. But what? She had tried everything she knew, everything she could think of, and she was well and truly trapped.
God had helped her before. Many times in the past, when she prayed for God’s intervention, something unexpected would happen. Once when Evfemia was trying to sell Kaeleb, the man who wanted to buy him changed his mind. And when her stepmother tried to marry Gisela off to an odious man from another town, that man couldn’t raise the money she was asking for, and he didn’t come back.
Not that Gisela would have married him. She had planned to run away to Hagenheim Castle and beg them to give her a job as a servant, a scullery maid, anything. She might have run away anyway, but she couldn’t bear to leave her horses, and she still held out hope that somehow, some way, Evfemia would leave, would perhaps remarry and take her ugly daughters with her. Then Gisela would no longer be a nobody, she would be the owner of the Mueller house.
But instead of waiting around for Evfemia to come to some bad end, she should have left. She should have done anything rather than let her trap her like this.
Once when she was a child, she’d imagined her stepmother being killed by a band of knights for her cruelty to Gisela. But she had frightened herself with that dark thought and asked God to forgive her.
Perhaps now she was being punished for having those murderous thoughts.
But no. God was not like that. Evfemia was like that. She’d punish a person even after they had repented, but God would not. Besides, God had done good things for her in the past two weeks. Valten had come to her aid when she was accosted by Ruexner in the street. And she had been in the right place at the right time to see Ruexner’s squire put deadly water hemlock in Sieger’s food, so that she was able to save him.
And best of all, Valten had worn her colors and chosen her as the Queen of Beauty and Love.
But … it was all for nothing if she couldn’t get away. It was more pain than she could bear, to think of Valten waiting for her and not seeing her, of Evfemia lying to him and saying that she had run away with another man. She imagined what he would think of her and she doubled over, pressing her forehead against the floor.
“Oh, God, am I destined for pain?” Her tears fell on her long-sleeved chemise. “God, what will happen to me when Ruexner gets here? I’d rather be nobody than married to him.”
Someone was whistling outside her window. She jumped to her feet and stuck her head out.
A boy, one of Ava’s servants, whistled as he walked near Wido’s flowers.
“Boy! You there!”
The boy looked up, craning his neck back, as he was directly beneath her window.
“Help me, please!”
“You need my help?” The boy’s eyes were big and round.
“Yes! Please don’t go. I am trapped here in my chamber. I need you to come inside and let me out.”
His eyes grew even bigger. “I’m scared of Frau Evfemia. She doesn’t like me.”
“She isn’t here. She’s gone and won’t be back for a long time. Please. I won’t tell anyone you helped me.”
“I think I should go tell my mistress, Frau Ava, first.” He turned as if to go.
“No, don’t go! You must not leave me!” Ruexner could arrive at any moment. Gisela gripped the windowsill so hard a piece of the stone ledge crumbled off into her hand. In desperation, she screamed in her hoarse voice, “I beg you, and I charge you by the Most High God to come and let me out!” She must have heard the words at a miracle play. In her desperation, they must have popped into her mind — and out of her mouth.
The little boy looked hesitant, but finally he nodded. “I am coming.” He ran around the side of the house.
Gisela’s heart soared. “O God, thank you, thank you!”
Please let the front door be open. She thought she heard it click and creak open. Of course Evfemia would have left it open for Ruexner.
She was only wearing her underdress. She grabbed up the beautiful red gown and pulled it over her head. As she was wriggling into it, she heard the boy’s footsteps on the stairs.
“I’m here, I’m here!” she shouted, hoping the sound of her voice would guide him to her room. “Can you hear me?”
“I hear you!” he shouted back. He was now at the door, and she heard him grunting, trying to open the door. Let the crossbar not be stuck.
She pulled her dress into place and dug around in the trunk until she found the leather pouch that contained her money, the money her father had made her hide before he died. Then she yanked out the brick in the fireplace, took out her father’s picture, and put it in the pouch.
A sound like wood scraping metal came from the other side of the door. The door began to open, creaking slowly, and revealed the boy from Ava’s household.
His mouth fell open as he stared at her, looking her up and down.
Gisela squeezed his arm. “Thank you! You saved me.” An ecstatic, slightly hysterical laugh escaped her as she looked down at him. “What is your name?”