The nights had started blending together since Madam Kaelene’s training began.
Every evening after she dismissed me, Mira, the quiet maid assigned to my room, would take my hands, massage in some fragrant cream, then slip warm silk gloves over my fingers.
It was strange, looking at my hands now. They didn’t look like the hands that once scrubbed muddy boots or bled from hauling buckets. They looked… royal.
But while my hands were getting used to this new life, my head was a mess.
Dinner with the royal family was two days away. Which meant meeting Derek’s mother.
And every time her name came up, Lyra and Madam Kaelene exchanged that strange look, like they knew something I didn’t.
I kept replaying that first time I saw Derek’s expression change when the woman’s name was mentioned.
