15 The Maids (2)

"Oh, you are awake, Princess," a maid said, her voice gentle, as she opened the door to Ingrid's room. "Do you want anything?"

The sheets rustled softly as Ingrid slowly sat up, her eyes still heavy with sleep. "Have you seen Jaquelyn? Or Lorraine," she asked, her voice laced with worry. 

The servant hesitated, avoiding eye contact and staring at the floor. "Princess, you see..." She struggled for words, her voice trailing off uncertainly.

Ingrid looked at her. "Continue," she said, her gaze unwavering.

"I... I have been assigned as your new personal maid, Princess. And..." the maid paused and looked up, meeting Ingrid's gaze. "You... you must know what this means."

In that moment, silence enveloped the room, broken only by the subtle sound of their breaths. Ingrid's fingers tightened on the edge of the bed, her mind racing with unvoiced questions. 

Ingrid's lips parted, but no words came out. She took a deep breathe and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cool floor, but it wasn't enough to send shivers up her spine.

"Princess?" the maid's voice quivered with concern as Ingrid slowly approached the door, her eyes clouded and unfocused.

Ignoring the question, Ingrid pushed the door open, her gaze fixed on an unseen point in the distance as she whispered, "I need to find them."

She started walking, her strides gaining speed, each step barely making noise on the surface of the marble floor. Ingrid was still in her silk nightgown, her hair disheveled and cascading down her back like a flowing river. Climbing down the stairs, her hurried footsteps drew the shocked gazes of servants who watched her in disbelief.

"Princess? Where are you going?" they called after her, their voices filled with concern. "Please be careful!"

Arriving at the foyer, Ingrid found a servant coming from outside, the cool morning breeze tousling her hair.

"Huh? Princess, what are you—"

"Where is Mr. Wilson?" Ingrid's voice cut through the air, urgency coloring her words as she gripped a servant's shoulders tightly, her nails lightly digging into the fabric of their uniform.

"M-Mister Wilson must still be outside—" the servant stammered, her eyes widening in shock.

Ingrid dashed away before the servant could stop her, her feet swiftly hitting the rough stone path leading out of the building.

"P-Princess!" the servant shouted, her voice frantic. "Oh my gosh! Someone hurry and bring footwear! The princess is barefoot!"

The gravel bit into Ingrid's feet as she ran, the pain barely registering in her mind. Her heart thudded in her chest like a war drum, driving her forward with a fierce determination. The world around her blurred, the gardens and sculptures she had admired countless times now reduced to mere streaks of color.

As Ingrid approached the gate, the guards sprang to attention, their eyes widening in surprise at the sight of the disheveled princess in her nightgown.

They promptly stood at attention, their weapons blocking her way. "Your Highness, why have you come here?" they inquired. Their attention fell on her feet, now red and wounded.

"Y-Your Highness, your feet are bleeding!" exclaimed one of them.

Ingrid's breaths tore through her lungs, each inhalation a sharp gasp that burned her throat. She ignored the pain in her feet, her determination overriding the physical discomfort. 

Her eyes, usually pools of royal poise, were wide and wild, fixated on the guards before her. 

"Please, I need to find Mr. Wilson," her voice, though strained, cut through the tension like a dagger. It was a fierce whisper, laden with desperation and fear, her vulnerability laid bare for anyone to see.

The guards exchanged hesitant glances.

"We understand your concern, Princess," the guard's voice was gruff, but there was a flicker of empathy in his eyes. "But you need to turn back. We will call the caretaker to the palace. You should tend to your wounds—"

"I don't care!" Her shout shattered the stillness of the early morning, echoing off the stone walls. Her voice cracked with intensity, tears glimmering in her eyes but unshed. "Please... I need to find Mr. Wilson."

"Open the gates for the Grand Commander!" a voice suddenly shouted behind the massive wrought-iron gates.