MADELINE'S POV
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A week of training alone is what has me remaining in bed. The sun is already halfway up to its peak, the sound of the awake mansion shuddering through the walls. I can do nothing but listen as I lay in bed, to the feet moving, to the muffled voices, to the brooms as they sweep, to the clinking of metals and glasses, the sound of water sloshing as the floors are being mopped and the shaking of pipes as water run through them.
But I also focus on the chirping of birds outside, of the sound of leaves rustling as the breeze sends them tumbling from the tree. The dark gray curtains flaring. The same breeze that sends leaves to the ground is now kissing against my skin, cooling me.
The door cracks open, and then closes with a soft thud. Footsteps, heavy and precise, closes
