Petra shoved the things at her through the bars. Sophie grabbed the food but couldn’t catch the stick before it clattered to the stone floor. She almost laughed.
“Oh, Petra, you mustn’t be seen! I couldn’t bear it if you were punished for helping me.”
“Nonsense, child.” Petra stuffed her hand through the bars and squeezed Sophie’s arm. “I would do much more for you, my dear.”
Sophie saw tears in Petra’s eyes as her bottom lip quivered. Then Petra jumped to her feet and hurried away.
“Thank you, God,” Sophie whispered. “Thank you for Mama Petra and Roslind.”
She set about to eat her food as quickly as she could. If she got rid of the evidence, perhaps her friends wouldn’t get caught and punished for helping her. Although it seemed as if Duchess Ermengard had eyes everywhere and could see through the very walls.
The sound of a key grating in the door lock made her jerk away from the window. She shrank into the dark corner, clutching the half-eaten food to her chest.
The door creaked open and something came sailing through it, landing on the floor. Then the door slammed shut again, the key grating once more.
Sophie crept over to see what had been thrown in.
A blanket of gray wool. She picked it up. It smelled clean, so she wrapped it around her shoulders, unable to hold back the smile on her face. “Who could have done this?” she whispered to herself. Most likely, the old guard Walther. Sophie had helped care for his sick child when everyone else was too afraid to come near, frightened of catching the strange fever that had been accompanied by a rash. Sophie suspected he had a soft heart for her because of it.
The scratching of the rats came closer, reminding her to eat. She bit into the hunk of cheese, then her bread. It was still fresh and soft. She sighed as she chewed.
“Sophie.” This time a large, dark form knelt at the window.
Lorencz. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized him. He’d paid a lot of attention to her lately, and she couldn’t help but wonder why.
And now he was kneeling by the dungeon window, calling her name.
Ever on her guard around anyone connected to Duchess Ermengard, Sophie asked stiffly, “What do you want?”
She heard a confidant laugh. “Come and see.”
Slowly, Sophie stepped closer, dropping the blanket to the floor and flipping her apron up over her food to hide it.
As he watched her, she studied his face, which was hard and flinty, with sharp angles. A short, stubbly, light-colored beard covered his chin and jaw, and a small scar cut a line under one eye. But he was undeniably handsome, especially a moment later when he flashed his smile, showing perfect, white teeth.
“See what I brought you?” He held out a flask.
“What is it?” She shouldn’t let him think she trusted him.
“Some wine. I heard you were here and thought you may need the refreshment. I know the duchess forbid you to have water, but she never said anything about other ways to quench your thirst.”
Sophie stared at the flask. She had no desire to indebt herself to him by accepting his gift, but two days and nights without anything to drink was a dreadful thought. Still, she made no move to receive it. She wasn’t dying of thirst yet.
“Perhaps I can convince the duchess to let you out after one day instead of two.” He quirked his eyebrows up.
Sophie chewed her lip. Why was he being kind to her and offering to help? Or was he pretending? Sophie had learned early in life that she was unprotected in this cruel world, and the way to survive was to be suspicious of everyone’s motives and intentions until proven otherwise, especially if they had more power and freedom than she had.
“Will you accept my gift?” He held the wine flask up to the bars.
Sophie hesitated. She reasoned that perhaps this was God’s way of providing. Perhaps God had sent him. She would like to believe this man was the answer to her prayers. But she didn’t dare; a deep part of her warned that his gift came from an ulterior motive.
Then she remembered the pain of thirst, the sharp, raw ache in her throat after one day without water, the horror and desperation of the second day.
Sophie slowly reached her hand toward the window. Lorencz slipped the flask through the bars into her open palm.
“Thank you.”
“It is my pleasure. Have I told you how comely you are?”
“Once or twice.” She forced a hard, sarcastic edge into her voice.
“You should go for a picnic with me tomorrow.”
“Even if I were to agree, that would be impossible. I will still be in this dungeon tomorrow.” She tapped one of the bars for emphasis.
“Not if I get you released early.”
“How do you plan to manage that?”
“I have my ways.” His eyes flashed mischeviously.
“A personal favorite of the duchess, are you?”
“You might say that.” His voice was deep and smooth.
“I see.”
“I like you, Sophie. You’re not like the other servant girls.”