She gathered up the loose sheets with trembling hands, stacking them again upon the table as best she could. The truth could not be destroyed. Though she left the papers, it existed now inside of her, etched in her soul.
Her legs were unsteady as she climbed the spiral staircase. Each step was heavier than the last, but she kept going, driven by a need to escape the dampness of the library. Finally, when she burst out into the palace's central corridors, the world above felt alien, too light, too still.
The corridors were empty at such a late time. Only the soft light of torches guided her. She hurried, folding arms about herself, as if she encircled her body against the push of betrayal.
She walked into her room and shut the door on her heels, she leaned back against the door, her brea
