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Chapter 8 - Myrtle

  As it were, an opportunity presented itself sooner than she’d hoped.

  One morning, the kitchen was abuzz with complaints, the slop bucket was overflowing again, stinking up the entire hall.

  “I can take care of the compost,” Minnie offered quickly. “I’d love a breath of fresh air.”

  The Head Cook gave her a sharp look, and Minnie groaned inwardly. Letting the strict woman suspect she wasn’t already overburdened with work was not a good idea, but there was no avoiding it.

  Sure enough, the Head Cook’s mouth flattened.

  “Fine,” she said. “You’re compost now.”

  And just like that, Minnie earned herself a permanent new duty, in addition to her runner rounds. The other maids exhaled in relief. Hauling that heavy, sloshing bucket of spoiled greens and scraps was a thankless, stomach-turning job, and they were all glad to be rid of it.

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  Minnie was also pleased with the assignment. Although it meant more work, and the "fresh air" of the courtyard smelled worse than the kitchen, it was probably the only place within the castle limits where a maid could have a view of the sky. Back in Greengrove, she had loved watching the sky, by day or at night. But it had always been there, constant and unquestioned, and she assumed it always would be. Now, after nearly a month in the castle’s dimly lit halls and corridors, seeing the sky again was almost heart-breaking. She hadn’t realized how much it mattered until that moment.

  For the next few days, she made the compost her business, checking the pail between her runs, trudging out whenever the bucket was full, keeping the Head Cook complacent. And she always lingered a little longer than she had to. Just a few seconds. Long enough to steal a look at the sky. And at the green tangle of myrtle by the drain. She moved carefully, but with purpose, slow enough to seem tired, but not lazy or suspicious.

  And then, once the sharp eyes of the Head Cook stopped following her around whenever she went out, she took a couple of seconds more to pluck a sturdy and fragrant twig from one of the myrtle bushes and hid it inside her apron. She hurried back inside before anyone thought to ask why she had tarried.

  One task down. Two to go.

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