Yvonne stormed down the corridor like a storm barely contained in human skin, bare feet slapping against cold marble, the half-laced corset flapping loosely around her waist. The chemise clung to her sweat-dampened body, doing almost nothing to hide the curves beneath. Behind her, a flock of wide-eyed ladies-in-waiting and maids hurried after her in a rustle of silk and panicked whispers.
"My lady, please, slow down!"
"You are not properly dressed!"
Yvonne didn't slow. She didn't even glance back. Her mind was a whirlwind of rage, fear, and the sharp, metallic taste of betrayal still lingering on her tongue.
She shoved open the doors to her chambers with enough force that they bounced against the walls. The few servants already inside startled, dropping whatever they were holding.
"Everyone out!" she snarled in Spanish, voice cracking like a whip. "Now!"
