The enormous oak door groaned closed behind Ursula as she entered Jewel's personal quarters cautiously. The lumbering sound reverberated like a last judgment in the quiet air, shattering the golden silence shed by scores of dancing candles. Shadows twisted down the walls of stone like silent observers of untold secrets. The room was opulently furnished—velvety red rugs padded the floor, velvet curtains screened high windows from the night's chill, and highly polished furniture darkly glowed in the faint light—but cold seeped in, curling around Ursula's back.
Jewel had her back to the door, turned toward the hearth where embers nipped at blackened logs. Her arms were clasped tightly over her chest, shoulders tight with tension. The light of the fire lit her shape in amber and gold, but the
