Page 115 of King of the Crease

“No. Just wanted to stroll.”

“Stroll. Yes. Certainly, Mr. Rush.” She stays behind while I continue walking around, wondering how the heck I’m going to fit in here.

I turn down a side corridor, mostly because it’s empty, and I need a second to breathe. The air shifts as I go, cooler, a little damp. Less polished. Less perfect.

And then I hear it.

A soft, steady drip.

I stop.

There it is again. Under the hum of palace hubbub. Drip. Drip. Drip.

It’s a small, ordinary sound, but it cuts straight through all this grandeur like a crack in glass.

I run back to Leslie. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what, Mr. Rush?”

“A dripping sound?”

We pause, and I watch her strain to hear it. She laughs it off. “We hear noises like that all the time around here. It’s an old castle.”

“You’ve heard this dripping sound before?”

“Is it a drip? I think it’s just the walls creaking?”

“That’s definitely a drip. I’ve heard enough of them in my life.”

I follow the faint sound, instincts kicking in before I even think about it, down another narrower hall to a door halfway down. Unlike the beautiful, well-crafted entrances in the palace, this plain, metal door is meant to be ignored.

“Mr. Rush, where are you going?” Leslie jogs to catch up to me.

Inside is a maintenance room—or at least something close to it. Not pretty. Not gilded. Pipes run along the walls, some old, some newer, all of them doing their job quietly.

Except one.

Water beads along a joint in the pipe, gathering before dropping to the floor with that same steady rhythm. There’s already a small dark stain spreading beneath it.

I huff out a breath before I can stop myself, something in my chest loosening for the first time since I walked in.

“Sir.” Leslie stops at the door.

“Well,” I murmur, stepping closer. “There you are.”

I crouch down, leaning in to get a better look. It’s not bad. Loose fitting, maybe a worn seal. The kind of thing that’s a few weeks away from turning into a bigger problem if left alone.

For a second, I just stay there, staring at it, and I feel ridiculous, maybe, for how relieved I am. Out there, everything is perfect in a way I don’t understand. In here, something’s wrong in a way I do.

Footsteps echo behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to see Agnes hovering uncertainly in the doorway.

“Mr. Rush! What are you doing? Is everything alright, sir?”

I almost laugh at the sir.

“Yeah,” I say, pushing to my feet and wiping my hands on my pants out of habit. “Actually, no. You’ve got a leak here.” I nod toward the pipe. “Nothing catastrophic yet, but it’ll get worse if it sits.”

She and Leslie step closer, frowning slightly like they can see it now that I’ve pointed it out.