“E–Enrique,” Giselle stuttered, her voice catching before she could keep it in control. Her hand was still on the door handle.
Instinct had her scanning the hallway immediately, her eyes darting left and right, checking for movement, for witnesses, for anyone who might have overheard. The servants’ quarters were quiet at this hour, the corridors dimly lit and hushed.
But somehow, the silence made this moment a lot louder.
“W–what are you…” She swallowed. “…what are you doing here?”
Enrique stood a few steps away from her, half in shadow, half caught by the low torchlight lining the walls. He hadn’t moved closer, hadn’t reached for her or blocked her path, but with the way he stood, staring her down, it felt as though the space between them had shrunk anyway. His posture was loose, al
