The corridor outside the servant's quarters was silent except for the rustle of skirts and the faint crackle of torches. Elisa stood rigid, her apron wrinkled in her hands. She had been summoned after the ball alone, in the middle of the night and she already knew who was waiting.
Vivienne stepped out of the shadows, her scent sweet but sharp, like flowers left too long in water.
"You've been hiding," the Countess said softly.
Elisa lowered her head. "I—I didn't know where to go, my lady. The advisor, Sir Adrian, instructed the guards to let me go but–"
Vivienne's tone was pleasant. "Oh, but you did what I asked, didn't you? You played your part beautifully."
Elisa's throat was dry. "I told them what you said to tell them. That the Queen ordered it. But now—now everyone thinks—"
Vivienne's hand shot out, gripping the girl's chin, forcing her to look up. "Everyone thinks exactly what they were meant to think."
Tears welled in Elisa's eyes. "They'll hang her, my lady."
