The sun was high in the sky, spilling golden light across the packhouse and its grounds, but Althea felt none of its warmth. She moved quietly through the halls, keeping her head down, the soft shuffle of her steps nearly drowned out by the buzz of voices.
Whispers.
They were everywhere: slithering through the estate like a cold, invisible wind. Althea couldn’t always make out the exact words, but she knew they were about her. She could feel it in the way conversations died the moment she entered a room, in the quick glances that darted her way before people turned their backs. It was the same look they always gave her, one that said she doesn’t belong here.
Her chest tightened, and she hugged the strap of her satchel closer to her side. She’d grown used to feeling out of place here, bu
