The next morning, the sound of approaching footsteps outside the door pulled Christiana from her uneasy sleep.
She had spent the entire night curled on the cold wooden floor, her back pressed against the door as if sheer will alone could force it open. The position had left her body stiff and aching. When she stirred, a dull pain spread through her shoulders and down her spine.
With a soft groan, she pushed herself upright.
Her muscles protested immediately. She rolled her neck slightly, wincing as it cracked, and lifted a hand to rub her temple. Her head pounded from exhaustion and dehydration.
A quiet whine slipped from her lips as she yawned, her mind still clouded with sleep.
For a moment, she sat there in a daze, trying to gather her thoughts.
She had barely noticed that the door had opened.
Before she could fully process what was happening, someone quickly stepped inside and placed a tray on the small table near the bed. The entire action happened so swiftly and silently that Christiana only registered movement from the corner of her eye.
By the time her mind caught up with reality—
SLAM.
The door had already closed.
The loud sound snapped her fully awake.
Christiana's eyes widened as she turned sharply toward the door.
"What—?"
She scrambled to her feet and rushed forward, grabbing the handle and pulling it with urgency. But the door refused to move.
Locked.
Again.
"Hello?!" she called out desperately, shaking the handle harder. "Please let me out!"
Her voice echoed weakly down the empty corridor beyond.
But deep down, she already knew the truth.
Whoever had brought the tray had already left.
Slowly, her grip loosened.
Defeated, she stepped away from the door.
Only then did she notice the tray sitting quietly on the small table beside the bed.
Her eyes lingered on it.
Fresh bread, warm porridge, fruit, and a cup of steaming tea had been arranged neatly, as though she were a guest rather than a prisoner.
There was also a folded piece of paper resting beside the plate.
Curiosity overcame her frustration.
She walked over and picked up the note first.
Unfolding it carefully, she read the message written in neat handwriting.
Apologies for my rude behaviour yesterday. Enjoy this token of my sincerest apology. There are soaps in the washroom and dresses in the wardrobe.
— A friend, Robert.
The moment she finished reading it, her expression hardened.
"A friend?" she muttered bitterly.
Her fingers crumpled the paper tightly before she tossed it aside.
She moved to the bed and sat down heavily, both hands pushing into her hair as frustration and exhaustion weighed down on her mind.
Her thoughts spun in circles.
Who was this Robert?
Why was she locked here?
And why did he think food and a note would make any of this better?
As she sat there, she suddenly caught a faint smell.
Her nose wrinkled slightly.
She lifted her arm and sniffed cautiously.
Immediately, she recoiled.
A terrible stench clung to her clothes and skin after spending an entire night on the floor without washing.
Before she could dwell on it further, her stomach growled loudly.
The sound was so sudden that it startled her.
Christiana looked back toward the tray of food.
For a moment she hesitated, pride fighting against hunger.
But hunger won quickly.
She rushed to the table, grabbed the bread first, and began eating with little restraint. The porridge followed, then the fruit, and finally the tea.
Within minutes, the tray was completely empty.
She waited a few minutes after eating, allowing the food to settle in her stomach. The warmth from the meal slowly spread through her body, easing the weakness she had felt earlier.
Only then did she remember the last line in the note.
There are soaps in the washroom and dresses in the wardrobe.
Christiana stood from the bed and glanced around the room until her eyes landed on another door tucked into the corner. Curiosity mixed with caution as she walked toward it.
When she reached it, she hesitated for a brief moment before pulling it open.
The sight that greeted her made her stop in place.
The washroom was far more luxurious than anything she had ever seen.
In fact, it looked less like a simple bathing room and more like something built for royalty.
The floor was covered with polished marble tiles arranged in delicate patterns, their pale surface reflecting the soft glow of candlelight from several brass wall sconces. The light flickered gently, casting warm golden hues across the room.
Against one wall stood a large porcelain bathtub with elegant clawed feet made of shining brass. The tub was wide and deep, its smooth white surface decorated with delicate floral engravings along the rim. A small wooden stool stood beside it, clearly meant for servants who would usually assist in preparing the bath.
Next to the tub sat a polished washstand with a wide porcelain basin resting on top. A matching pitcher stood beside it, filled with fresh water. The stand itself had been carved from dark mahogany wood, its legs curved and detailed with intricate Victorian patterns of vines and leaves.
Above the washstand hung an oval mirror framed in gold.
The frame was decorated with small sculpted roses and twisting vines, giving it an elegant, almost regal appearance.
Shelves lined one side of the wall, neatly arranged with fine soaps wrapped in delicate paper, soft linen towels, glass bottles of scented oils, and small jars containing powders and bath salts. The faint scent of lavender and rosewater filled the air, creating a calming atmosphere.
A tall wooden wardrobe cabinet stood near the corner, likely holding fresh bathing cloths and garments.
Even the smallest details spoke of luxury. The brass fixtures gleamed under the candlelight, and the towels looked softer than anything Christiana had ever touched before.
For a moment, she simply stood there staring.
It was the kind of washroom made for a princess—built not only for cleanliness, but for comfort, beauty, and status.
Christiana slowly stepped inside, still taking in the elegant space.
For someone who was supposed to be a prisoner…
The castle was treating her with an almost unsettling level of care.
It took nearly a full hour before Christiana finally stepped out of the washroom.
The warm bath had washed away the grime and exhaustion of the previous night. She had taken her time, carefully scrubbing every inch of her skin as if trying to remove not only the dirt, but also the fear and helplessness that had clung to her since she had been locked in the room. She had washed her hair thoroughly as well, letting the scented soap foam through the long strands before rinsing it away with warm water.
Now, her skin felt clean and refreshed, and her tense shoulders had finally relaxed.
Her damp hair hung loosely down her back as she stepped into the room, glancing around for the wardrobe mentioned in the note.
Her eyes swept slowly across the chamber.
At first, she saw nothing.
Then her gaze landed on a tall wooden door she hadn't noticed before, tucked neatly beside the wall as though it had blended with the rest of the furniture.
Curious, she walked toward it and reached for the handle.
The moment she pulled the door open, a small gasp escaped her lips.
Inside was not just a wardrobe.
It was an entire collection of garments fit for royalty.
Rows of dresses hung neatly on polished wooden rods, arranged carefully by colour and style. The fabrics alone were breathtaking—silk, satin, velvet, and fine lace, each one shimmering softly under the light that filtered in from the room.
There were gowns in delicate shades of ivory, cream, rose pink, deep emerald, royal blue, and soft lavender. Some were simple and elegant, while others were far more elaborate, decorated with embroidered flowers, silver thread, and tiny pearls stitched carefully along the bodices.
Each dress looked as though it had been made for a princess.
The skirts were full and flowing, designed to cascade gracefully when worn, while the sleeves varied from long and delicate to short and adorned with lace trimming.
Below the hanging dresses were neatly arranged shelves filled with shoes.
Christiana stepped closer, her eyes widening as she saw them.
Elegant shoes made from fine leather and silk sat in pairs—small heeled boots, delicate slippers, and embroidered ballroom shoes. Some were decorated with tiny ribbons or pearl buttons, while others carried gold stitching along their edges.
On the upper shelves were velvet-lined boxes.
Curiosity drew her hand toward one of them.
When she opened it, the inside revealed sparkling jewelry.
Necklaces made from strings of pearls rested beside silver chains carrying small gemstones. There were bracelets set with tiny rubies, sapphire earrings shaped like flowers, and rings that glittered softly whenever they caught the light.
Each piece looked expensive enough to belong in the royal treasury.
Christiana slowly closed the box, still staring at the wardrobe in disbelief.
This wasn't simply clothing.
It was the wardrobe of someone meant to live in luxury—someone important enough to dress like nobility every day.
And yet…
She was placed in the room.