Lady Roslyn had pulled herself up from the violent collapse to the cold hard stone where she’d lay wasted for nearly a half hour before she felt her body begin to come back to life. Above her now, through a stained glass window, the light from the setting sun reached down, casting a warm red and yellow glow on her slouched shoulders. Her auburn hair gleamed like glowing embers, while her pale face looked sad, but oddly at peace. She refused to think—too dangerous and troubling now.
“Milady,” she heard the familiar voice and looked up, seeing her maid’s pensive face looking down on her. “I am to take you to our quarters. They are done with us for the night.”
“As they should be,” Roslyn replied. She allowed the girl to help her to her feet, and even when she slumped, she used her maid for
