The air in the corridor leading from the pavilion felt different, denser, like secrets clung to the walls. Lucien walked ahead, and for once, Liora didn't trail behind like a passive shadow. She walked beside him.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked, still gripping the cracked hairpin. It felt heavier than it should.
"To the lower wing," he said. "There's something you should see."
They passed through several locked doors, Edgar following at a distance, his expression unreadable. Down a spiral staircase, into a cold corridor lit only by wall sconces. The deeper they descended, the more the scent changed from lilacs and sun to dust and secrets.
"This part of the palace was sealed years ago," Lucien murmured. "After the incident."
Liora's steps slowed. "What incident?"
"My brother's first wife," he said. "The one whose death was pinned on me."
