The palace at night was quieter than a church. The stone halls swallowed sound, the air heavy with candle smoke and secrets.
She walked barefoot this time, the hem of her nightdress brushing her ankles. She had tried to pretend after what happened in the princess’s chamber. She had tried to work as if nothing had changed. But she had felt the princess’s fingers long after she returned to her room. The scent of silk and skin still clung to her like a bruise.
When the bell from the royal wing rang again, she knew.
The servants only used that bell for emergencies. The princess used it for her.
She followed the glow of the lanterns to the bathhouse at the far end of the palace. The heavy wooden door was cracked open, warm steam spilling out like mist.
Inside, the air smelled like rose wat
