Ivy’s POV
I was walking past the eastern hallway when I heard voices from the old linen room.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. Maids often spoke in quiet corners. But something in the tone caught my attention—low, urgent. Like they didn’t want to be heard.
I slowed my steps, heart thudding, and leaned closer to the door.
“—she’s getting too close,” one of them whispered.
“I know,” a second voice replied, hushed and nervous. “But she keeps asking questions. If I back off too fast, she’ll notice.”
My breath froze.
Was this about me?
“Then feed her enough to keep her looking elsewhere. Distract her if you have to. But no more notes. The last one was too risky.”
Notes.
They were talking about the letters.
I didn’t think. I pushed the door open.
The room went silent.
Anya, the
