Marie's Journey (Ginecean Chronicles) Read Free Page B

celebrating, but it sure beat sitting the whole day on a three-legged stool. She gave the list another look and sighed. This is not what I thought it would be. She busied herself with her second meal of the day. She had woken so early she was hungry again, but it was a nervous hunger, an ache that didn’t start from her stomach, but from her chest and left her lightheaded. She wolfed down two pancakes, then went to take her place by the corner where the potatoes were waiting for her.
    When a pile of potato peelings reached as high as the now-empty bucket, she was grateful for the opportunity to leave the kitchen if only to run an errand. “Where are the cellars?” she asked the first person she saw. The room had populated while she was going through the whole barrel. She had noticed the hustle, but the helpers were so quiet it was unnatural. Not a laugh, not a word of gossip to be heard, just the clicking of the copper potteries and the stirring of spoons against ceramic surfaces. And the pleasant smell of fresh-baked bread and pastries.
    “First door on the right, two floors down, follow the corridor.” A small girl, no older than Marie, answered her question, barely raising her head from the stove where she was preparing what looked like egg cream custard. “Remember, two floors down, not one or you’ll risk interrupting Captain Callista’s training sessions. And you don’t want that.”
    “I don’t want that,” Marie repeated, bringing her index and middle finger together to her forehead to give the girl a mock salute. “Thanks.” She left the kitchen in a breeze and descended the flight of stairs, taking longer than necessary, anything to delay going back to that room. She reached the corridor with a heavy heart, thinking she felt less alone down there, where there was nobody, than in that kitchen full of silent, busy people. The cellar door was an imposing, scary piece of dark wood carved with a décor that must have at one time been nice, but was now faded and mutilated. She pushed the wood and it creaked on its hinges. Darkness engulfed her, and a slight sense of panic pressed on her chest. “I am not afraid of dark.” Following the usual mantra, she breathed in and out while her right hand probed the wall by the door, looking for a switch. Muffled voices filtered through the walls and echoed inside the place. Her heart jumped.
    “Who’s there?” The voices—male voices, she realized—didn’t stop talking. Her fingers touched the switch and the cellar was illuminated in a crude, too-bright, white light. She shielded her eyes for a moment, then looked around. The place was empty. The workers were in the adjacent room.
    She should’ve run away anyway. Instead, she followed the sound and walked toward the farthest wall at the end of the cellar, but lost them somewhere in the middle of the walk. The opulent sight of the cellar’s bounty stole her attention. Shelves full of fruits and vegetables, cheeses, meat in various stages of being cured, and bottles of wine lined the walls. The place was stocked with food, more than she’d ever seen in one place. At the Institute, girls never went hungry, but portions were rationed and desserts were reserved for special occasions. Madame Carla ate the same diet as her pupils, which had probably contributed to her slender figure. For a moment, Marie was tempted to hide a piece of marzipan under her shirt and feast on it later. She reached out to the closer shelf where she had spotted the treat, thrilled by her daring, when a sudden noise startled her. Her outstretched fingers froze in midair.
    “Don’t do it!” a deep, male voice commanded.
    “I bet your dinner you won’t do it,” a second voice said. A younger man.
    “And what if I do?” Another male voice, as young as the first.
    Marie’s head snapped to the right where the voices sounded clearer and closer. The men were on the other side of the cellar’s wall. She thought she should’ve run back to