Thud.
The door closed.
The sound was small, ordinary, like wood kissing its frame. Yet to Luna's ears, it struck louder than thunder. It rippled through her chest, a tremor that made her heart quiver and stumble.
Her golden eyes widened—no, they shook. She had seen it. Aiden, the servant, the outsider who should never have been allowed to rise above the dust on his boots… slowly pushing the door shut behind her, arms still wrapped around her—The viscountess herself.
Her aunt.
For a suspended second her breath abandoned her, and the world slowed. She pressed her hand against her mouth, fingertips trembling so violently she thought they might tear her lips apart.
What had she seen? No—what had she really seen?
She wanted to scream, to break the silence of the hall with all the voice she had left inside her, but a fear, sharp and cold, kept her throat tight. What if they heard? What if Aunt Catherine noticed? What if the wrong word slipped free and everything turned against her?
