And then, a rustle. Bilhah freezes. She blinks, trying to stare through the shifting shadows and the blackness. Someone is out here, with her
The woman who guards the entrance of the sleeping hall does not know what happens deep within the chamber. She does not see Bilhah as she climbs up onto the window ledge and slowly lowers herself down, clutching the ledge while her body hangs into the darkness. She has no idea that Bilhah has become adept at gently kicking herself away from the wall as she releases her hands.
Bilhah lands gently on the mossy grass below.
She pauses, catches her breath, and flicks the leaves from her skirts before she sets off into the night. The dew-soaked grass soaks her thin slippers but the night is warm, and the air filled with moisture, so that soon she is wiping the damp from her forehead.
For the last three nights, she has been exploring the perimeter of the Imperial Palace. It is hopeless: the palace gardens are a sprawling labyrinth surrounded by brick and iron, walls and gates that tower far above her head. Guards patrol the boundary.
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