Isadora woke with a faint ache in her head. She sat up slowly, blinking at the unfamiliar room. For a few seconds, she simply stared at the soft drapes and polished furniture, trying to remember how she had gotten here.
Bits of the previous night came back—voices, candlelight—but not clearly. Something felt off. The bed, the arrangement of the room, even the air… none of it matched what she remembered from the D'Aragon mansion.
She swung her legs over the side and stood, moving quietly toward the door. Before she could reach it, two maids entered carrying folded garments.
Without a word, they guided her back to the bed and began changing her into a new gown. The work was done in silence, the sound of rustling fabric the only thing filling the air. Nearly half an hour passed before they stepped back.
Isadora glanced at them, trying to keep her tone light. "Where exactly are we?"
