AMAYA
The halls at night are too quiet. Not peaceful quiet, the kind that helps to clear your head and organise your thoughts, but this quiet was laced with a kind of heaviness, like the house itself is holding its breath.
Every soft click of my boots on the stone feels like it echoes down the corridors. I carry a tray of neatly folded linens back toward the servants' quarters. My shoulders were aching, and my arms stiff from a day of work Evelara had piled onto me with that smug little smile of hers.
At this point, I have gotten used to Evelara's torture, but tonight I just want to drop these off and collapse into bed.
I round a corner and stop dead.
Lucian is there. Leaning against the wall as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to be loitering in a shadowed hallway near mi
