Sunlight spilled through the velvet curtains of Anna's chamber, gilding the floor with golden light that didn't match the unease in her chest.
She hadn't slept.
Not a moment of peace. She'd spent the hours between midnight and dawn staring at the canopy above her bed, counting heartbeats like they might drown out the question that burned at the back of her skull:
Where is Rudy's body?
It had been there. Hung perfectly. A neat, tidy little suicide.
Now it was gone.
A sharp knock sounded at the door.
"Enter," Anna said, keeping her voice as composed as ever.
Two of her chambermaids entered cautiously—Sela, the older one with graying braids and sharp eyes, and Mirra, the skittish younger girl who always looked one apology away from tears. They carried a silver tray and the pale blue day gown she'd worn only once before.
She watched them in silence as they entered. They expected coldness. Barked orders. Not conversation.
