Beatrice barely slept.
The hours bled together in a fog of pacing, cold tea, and the occasional scrape of Elisha darting across the floor. She wasn't sure if it was anger, or fear, or something worse that kept her heart thudding in her ears.
By morning, the palace had tightened around her.
Two guards were stationed outside her door at all times. Meals were brought by nameless stewards who said nothing, did nothing except bow and retreat. Lily was barred from entering, her familiar knock never came.
The isolation gnawed at her faster than she expected.
Beatrice spent the morning listlessly pushing food around her plate, listening to the muted sounds of the court shifting uneasily beyond her walls.
The Da Villes arrived by midday.
