The nanny ceased to breathe.
Well, it appeared that way. As soon as the question escaped my lips, all of the color was stripped from her face. Her eyes grew a little larger. Not confusion.
Fear. Real fear. I stared at her. Then, I knew what I knew. Not the full truth. But enough. I knew enough to know that my instincts were right. The child was hooked up to me. Somehow. The nanny glanced at the door, as if in panic. Then back at me.
“My lady—”
I interrupted her, “Don't tell me lies.”
My voice came out sharp and clear. The woman's hands were now shaking visibly.
“What do you mean?” she whispered.
Another lie. A weak one. I stepped closer.
“You answered as soon as I asked.”
She opened her mouth, but replied nothing. There was a battle in her eyes. She wanted to say something. Yet my
