Page 4 of Gilded Shackles
I push through the roof door and the night air hits me, cool and wide.
But my hands are still shaking, and it has nothing to do with my mother.
It's backto the rooftop for me. Just another day in the exciting life of Elle Donovan, ladies and gentlemen, where every day's the same old thing.
There's a lap pool two floors down I'm allowed to go to, a private gym, a café on the second floor that knows how I like my cappuccino, two full floors of restaurants and bars I'm never allowed to drink in, and a row of boutiques that sell dresses I'm not allowed to wear anywhere real. She even lets me order things online, though every device is tracked and every search is logged. Just enough digital oxygen to keep me from suffocating, never enough to reach anyone real.
That's it. That's my life. Every luxury imaginable, so I'd never need to leave. Build the prison beautiful enough and the girl stops believing she's locked up at all.
And sadly enough, my most beloved spot of them all is the very same rooftop I've just been banished to. At least, from here, I can see the city down below. At least, from here, I can take in a breath of fresh air and feel the sun on my skin.
"Evening, Ellie-girl," Jeffrey says with his hands behind his back, turning to me from where he stands beneath the trellis heavy with climbing roses. He's in his fifties, built like an old oak, with eyes that catalog everything and let go of nothing.
His suit jacket is too warm for the roof, but he wears it anyway, the earpiece coiled against his neck like a tame snake.
“Oh, Ellie,” he sighs. “How bad?”
I touch my fingers to my cheek. “It’s fine.”
“You know how angry she gets.”
"So, you know what I did, huh?" I ask, dropping to my knees beside the herb bed. Dirt is under my fingernails in three seconds flat.
"Yeah. I could hear your mom breathing fire through three inches of steel. Besides, she texted me. She’s suggested I put another guard on you."
I groan and pull my braid over my shoulder to keep it out of the soil, and start pinching basil tips. The rhythm steadies me. Snap, pull, drop. Snap, pull, drop. I want to ask if that’s who the man is I ran into. Is he my new guard?
Hell yeah. Sign me up.
"Tomorrow I'm twenty-six," I say. "Halfway to fossilized and still haven't seen Times Square."
"Times Square is terrible," he says. "You're not missing anything but tourists and giant televisions."
"I want to hate it for myself," I say, and he huffs.
He glances over, his eyes softening. "One day soon."
I snort. "You've been saying 'one day soon' since I was fifteen."
"And I meant it then," he says. "And I mean it now."
"How, Jeffrey? Mother's never going to let me out. Even her rules have rules. I don't know how to talk to people who aren't paid to smile at me. I've been trapped in this tower so long my social skills have moss on them."
He doesn't tease me. He never does when I crack. That's the thing about Jeffrey: he's seen me at my most unraveled and never once used it against me. In a house built onleverage, that makes him the most dangerous person I know.
"You're not stuck, kid," he says gently. "You're just waiting for the right wall to climb."
Jeffrey's been with us since I was twelve. He's the closest thing I have to a friend, which is both sad and true. He taught me things Mother never would have approved of. How to throw a punch. How to hold a knife properly. And once, in the basement range of the building, how to fire a handgun.Just in case,he'd said, and I never asked in case of what. Sometimes I wonder if he was training me for the world, or training me to survive my mother.
"Poetic," I say, flicking dirt at his shoe. "Put that on a mug."
This time around, he snorts. Guess we're making progress.
I pop a tiny tomato from one of the planters into my mouth. It bursts tart and sweet and warm from the day's heat. "She says it's for my own good. Safety, safety, safety. Like the city is a wolf and I'm a lamb on a leash."
"The city is a wolf," he says. "And so are people."
"Maybe I could join a pack."
