Nerine moved slowly about her chambers, gathering the last of her belongings with deliberate care. She told herself she was going home—but not to her father's house. No, her heart tugged toward Madam Helen's place, a home that still held warmth, even if it was temporary.
As she folded her coat, her mind betrayed her and returned to the morning. Kael had seen her in the corridor, his expression unreadable, his tone as cold and formal as ever. He had spoken to her as though nothing had happened between them yesterday—no nearness, no intimacy, not even a question about her fainting.
Her lips pressed together. Had he truly been the one to send that porridge? Or was it just Clara's kindness, cloaked in his name? The doubt stung more than she wished to admit.
"Everything is ready, my lady," Clara's voice cut softly through her thoughts.
Nerine gave a faint nod, then hesitated. "Hold on. I want to check on Lady Penelope first."
