Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 96695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Excellent. Then you wouldn’t mind if I gave your son a test.”
“A test?” Jessamine gulped.
“Yes, a little thing. I’ll have him placed in a room filled with straw and a spinning wheel. If he can turn all the straw into gold within twenty-four hours, I will reward him with…oh…let’s say, a lunch with Prince Everand. I’m sure he’d have some useful advice for Mr. Baker on how to find a good husband, and they would undoubtedly have a lovely conversation.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Jessamine murmured.
“But if he fails to spin the straw into gold, your son will be executed for lying to the crown,” Queen Liliana finished in a cold, hard voice.
“What? No, I…” Jessamine gasped, her quavering voice trailing off at the end. Hugo glanced over, and his eyes met his mother’s wide, tear-filled ones. The horror of what her lies had created was finally clear to her. She’d thought it was a lark that would never be tested, even by the queen. She would have done anything to make sure that her son landed the very best possible husband, ensuring they all had a comfortable life. No more char work. No more being looked down on and scraping to get by. He understood her desperation to remain free of that pit and not to allow her children to fall into it.
Hugo’s heart softened. She might have gotten him into this mess, but he would not allow her to fall with him. Dorian and Augustine still needed their mother, and maybe his death would make her more cautious with her other two sons.
“But…I didn’t mean…”
Hugo grabbed one of his mother’s hands and squeezed it tightly as he took a large step in front of her, blocking her from the view of everyone in the room. “Yes, I can do it. I will do it. I’m the one who told my mother I can spin straw into gold, and I will.”
Behind him, his mother clung to his hand with both of hers, her fingers painfully icy.
“Wonderful,” the queen declared and motioned for a servant.
Hugo bowed low to the queen. “Please, Your Majesty, would you send my mother home while I spin the straw? It’s a long time for my younger brothers to be without her, and I don’t want them to worry.”
“Very well. Say your good-byes, and then a servant will take you to where you’ll be working,” the queen commanded, sounding bored with the whole affair.
Hugo turned to face his mother, who looked as if she were mere seconds from bursting into tears. He forced a smile and brushed a kiss to her cheek. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine. I promise.”
“But…” It was the only word left to her.
“Take good care of Dorian and Augustine. I’ll get on well enough here. Everything will be fine.”
Hugo held on to his smile as the butler returned to escort Jessamine through the palace to the waiting carriage. His smile fell away when several guards escorted him to a straw-filled room in the tower.
Five
Hugo held it together until the heavy wooden door banged shut behind him and the guard shoved the iron bolt into the lock. He really was in a tower. Not the tippy-top point of the tower, but it was still very isolated and scary.
His heart raced loudly in his ears, and yet he could barely hear it over his frantic panting. The room was medium sized with four large bales of straw, an old wooden spinning wheel, a stool, and a large basket filled with empty wooden bobbins to catch all the spun gold thread. In one corner, some kind soul had set up a tiny table and placed a pitcher of water and a tin cup on it along with a thick slice of bread. There was also a single empty bucket he could only assume he was supposed to use for his personal business. It wasn’t quite a cell in the dungeon, but it was a prison.
He was trapped. Thoroughly, completely trapped.
What the hell was he supposed to do now? His magic was about making pretty things out of glass. He couldn’t spin straw into gold. No one could.
With fast steps, he crossed to the single window and swung it open to stare down. His stomach sank to his toes. It was a straight drop to the smooth paving stones of the inner bailey.
What were his options? Wait for sunrise when it would be revealed that he had lied about his magical skill and have his head chopped off, or jump out the window now? Which death was more painful?
And if he jumped out the window, should he do it now or wait for dawn? If he waited, his mother and brothers would have a better chance of escaping Buckleford without notice. That was assuming Dorian convinced their mother to escape at all.