Chapter 6: Christiana

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        "Be good while I'm gone," Margaret says. "Get your chores done! Bye, Christiana."

        I wait until I can't see her anymore before I begin my search for those papers. I upturn the entire house. The papers are nowhere to be seen.

        "Christiana?"

        It's Margaret. She's back already.

        "Christiana?" she calls again. "What happened in here? Are you alright?"

        That's when I spot it. There's a loose floorboard under the bed. I slide under and pull up the board. I pluck the papers from the hole and stick them in my dress, out of sight. I'll read them later.

        "Christiana?" Margaret calls. She's up in the loft now.

        I go to the foot of the ladder. "I'm here!"

        She climbs down the ladder. "Where were you?" She slaps me across the face.

        I wince and my hand flies instantly to my cheek. Just then, the papers fall out onto the floor. Margaret gasps and scoops them up.

        "Where did you find these? You stupid child! Clean up the house. NOW!"

        I nod and she slaps me again. When I'm done restoring everything to it's original place, I flop down at the table, exhausted.

        "Are you done? comes Margaret's voice. It's cold as ice.

        "Yes, ma'am."

        She grabs her whip and slashes it across my back twelve times. Each time, I wince and let out a little yelp.

        "Why did you have my papers?"

        "I stumbled across them. That's all!"

        "Never touch my belongings again. I could have been executed if you found out what was on those papers. Her Majesty would be furious. Promise me that you'll never go snooping about the house for the rest of your sorry little excuse of a life."

        I stare at her, shocked. Margaret works for the Queen. Somehow those papers involve me. There's something I can't know. Something the Queen doesn't want me to know. But why would Margaret be executed if I found out? None of this makes sense.

        "Do you understand?" Margaret screams.

        "Yes, ma'am."

        "Good. Now go to bed. Immediatley."

        "Yes, ma'am."

        I hurry up the ladder to the loft. I strip off my dress. The skin is covered in bloody red cuts. I dip a cloth in a bucket of water and lay it on my back, cleaning off the blood. I grab a small container of ointment and apply it to the cuts. Then I wrap my torso in bandages and collapse on my bed. My back is in so much pain.

        Then I remember the papers. How would I be connected with the Queen of Astheia? I've never even been out of the house, let alone met the Queen. It just doesn't make any sense.

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