The door creaked open.
Elowyn sat frozen on the floor, legs sprawled beneath her, robe clutched close. Her eyes darted to the two figures that entered. Azpen, scanning the room with a strange calm, and Baron, arms folded and brow low.
They paused at the sight of her on the ground.
Azpen was the first to speak.
“You good?”
“What happened?” Baron asked this time his voice oddly calm.
Elowyn scrambled upright, trying to fix her robe extra tight, her face flushed.
“I—I was.... I slipped.”
Azpen narrowed his gaze. His eyes trailed across the open drawer, the disheveled vanity, the tossed blanket. Something wasn’t adding up.
“You been in our rooms?”
“No!” Elowyn cried out but it sounded too fast.
Her voice cracked.
Baron raised a brow, his gaze hardening. Azpen said nothing, but his
