ELYRA.
I paused for a moment, stiff and ready, half expecting the door to burst open or someone to barge in without waiting. My pulse was already racing, anger coiled tight in my chest, plans forming and unforming in my head. Yet the hallway remained quiet. I heard no footsteps. No voices. Just the soft hum of the house settling around me.
With a slow breath, I straightened my shoulders and inhaled.
I pulled the door open gently and a maid stepped inside, young and calm. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen. Her uniform was neat, her posture careful, like she was afraid of taking up too much space.
“Good afternoon, my lady,” she said, bowing slightly. “You have a visitor.”
I paused. “A visitor?”
Just like that, all the anger swirling in my head evaporated. Every sharp thought va
