Page 31 of Tangwystle
She wore a shift dress, something I had left out for her days ago when I tried to tempt her out of bed. Her curls were freshly washed, the golden hue illuminated by the one lamp in my room.
She held a pillow to her chest and stepped into my room, not waiting for permission. Her head tilted all around, and I tracked her gaze.
My little room sat under the servants’ staircase, the door just on the other side of the kitchen. It meant I was nearby but somewhat tucked away, giving me much needed space from my typical work zone. The stairs creaked, but I appreciated the heads up if someone ever came into the kitchen. Though it used to be that no master of Blackwell Manor would have ever used the servants’ stairs.
The room itself was cramped but neat thanks to my tidiness. A narrow bed, the linens folded down, ready for bed. I’d gotten lucky to find a rug years ago in the basement and rolled it out to cover the cold stone floor. There was no fireplace, but thekitchen and lower floor were a snug, warm place to begin with, and I benefited from it.
Gretel slowly turned in a circle, taking it all in. “You don’t have much stuff.”
A book sat on the one night stand. There wasn’t room for a full-sized desk.
“There’s no window,” Gretel noted.
“No,” I huffed. “What are you doing here?”
Gretel hugged the pillow to her chest, and I realized the shift she wore wasn’t the one I had left out but another one. One meant for sleeping.
“If I’m working here, I can’t keep living in the guest bedroom,” she said.
The guest room was triple the size of this tiny room. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d wanted to stay up there, with its pretty windows and giant bed with an oak frame. My mattress was lumpy in comparison.
“Is this where I’ll stay?” Gretel asked, rolling her shoulders back. The healing ointment we’d applied yesterday had already taken effect.
I frowned so hard I thought my face would crack. “There are other rooms.”
Blackwell Manor was the largest in the neighborhood. Even Clinemell had to admire it. While in recent years, only two servants kept the place up, it’d once housed dozens.
But until that moment, I hadn’t realized none of those old rooms were made up.
It was an awful oversight on my own part. I’d known for days Gretel would be staying. And I’d cleaned almost every inch of the kitchen in preparation, yet somehow I’d forgotten to fix up a room for her.
“You’ll have to stay in the guest room for one more night.”
Gretel dropped her pillow onto my bed with a thump.
“You aren’t sleeping here!”
Gretel fluffed up the pillow. “Why not? It’s big enough.”
“It’s my bed.” I couldn’t share my bed with Gretel.
“Do you want me to make up a bed on the floor?”
“There are other rooms,” I huffed again.
“If I’m going to stay and help you,” she said, smoothing her hand over her pillow, “then I’ll sleep down here with you.”
“You could stay one more night in your old room.”
“It’s not fair,” she said, her curls shaking as she shook her head. “And I’m ready to go back to normal.”
“You’re willingly giving up your much nicer bed to sleep in the servants quarters?”
She lifted her chin, brightening in that sweet Gretel way of hers. “I want to sleep where you sleep.”
Something in me startled. “The bed isn’t big enough!”
She considered this. “I think it will be okay. But if you wish, I’ll sleep on the floor.”
