Chapter Thirteen
The corridors are different tonight.
Last time I pushed against the locks, they had burned against my palms and refused me. Tonight, when I twist the handle, the latch clicks open without resistance. The wards hum faintly but do not bite. A chill runs through me.
This isn’t freedom, it’s permission.
I slip into the hall barefoot, the rug muffling my steps. Bella is asleep, curled tight in her bed like our world hasn’t tilted. My stomach twists at leaving her, even for a moment, but something inside me drives me forward. Maybe it’s anger. Maybe it’s the need to understand why William's keeping us here.
The sconces cast soft pools of light. Portraits glare down from their frames as I move. Each door I test now opens — bedrooms, unused sitting rooms, an empty music chamb
