@howell-avagyan .
when night came and everyone retired to their bedrooms , the halls fell silent and there was only the light tremor of each fireplace burning behind each of the doors . it was , perhaps , the most calm agnes felt during her stay in buckingham : her long , stiletto - clad strides guided her swiftly and uninterruptedly down the palace’s stairs , through empty and quiet halls , nodding in recognition to a few maids and butlers , nothing major . it was beautiful , truly , a giant of stone and tapestry to behold when the dust that only comes with age and marvel came down from the ceilings and attempted to settle before anyone else disrupted its peace . agnes , though aware , was in a rush to get out . she had her rented motorbike a few blocks away from the palace and had to get to god - knows - what party under some god - knows - what bridge . then she had to go to a deadend bar to coddle with the big fish , get high and do a couple of lines on marble tables , flirt with the biggest fish of them all and wrap him around her pinky finger like she had to every one . by the end of the night , he’d be handing her wads of cash like it was nobody’s business ( but her own ) .
through the kitchen she wanders down a narrow hall and to the boiler room , then slips out through the backdoor that lands her , perfect , at the gardens . empty , all of it as she walks unfolds with wonder . the cold air reddens her nose readily , she breathes in and feels it puncture her insides with a certain delight . empty , empty , finally alone ------- or nearly . a figure ahead of her catches her attention , the silhoutette a cutout of darkness in the light that pours down from a lamplight . and yet she knows who it is . the feeling of her stomach , her whole body trembling , the previous day has agnes walking more decidedly in his direction . he is , at the very least , inbetween her and the door . nearly soundlessly except for the gravel ground rattling softly beneath her every step , agnes falls into step with howell . ‘ it’s not very princely to sneak out in the dead of night , liefje1 . ‘
1 ) liefje : little dear .