A soft knock roused me from sleep. For a moment I didn’t move, half-hoping it was a dream. But then it came again, steady, polite, tugging me out of the fog I had wrapped myself in.
“Rain?” A girl’s voice. Gentle, deferential. Not Clara. “I was sent to prepare you for breakfast.”
My heart sank. Breakfast. I didn’t escape after all.
I sighed pushing myself upright, the blanket slipping from my shoulders. My hair was a pale tumble around me, knotted from sleep, my skin still warm from the fire that had burned low through the night. The room smelled faintly of smoke and lavender soap, but underneath, the heavy musk of wolves lingered, reminding me where I was.
“Come in,” I said softly, my voice still rough.
The door creaked open and a young maid stepped inside, balancing a folded gown ov
