Catherine -
Morning light crept across my bed like a gentle interrogation, warm fingers of sun that seemed determined to coax me back to consciousness despite my body's protests. I'd slept poorly—not because the bed wasn't comfortable, but because comfort felt like betrayal when my family was worried sick and I was trapped in a castle that operated by rules I didn't understand.
But you did sleep, my conscience reminded me. Eventually. In silk sheets and down pillows while your captivity was dressed in luxury.
The knock at my door came precisely as the clock tower chimed eight—punctuality that suggested this wasn't a casual social call but another choreographed element of whatever performance Lord MacAllister was staging.
"Come in," I called, sitting up and drawing the coverlet around m
