The house had smelled of wet rocks and metal when all this came to pass. Isla awoke to a day of the same familiar things, except with guards standing like statues in each of the corners. She had grown used to being watched constantly and the suffocating silence. But today, something was off in the air. The walls had been too close, and the sounds outside her door had been too rapid.
She could feel it before she saw it.
A young servant, likely seventeen, came out into the hallway from her room with a tray. He looked around uneasily, at the guardsmen and at her door. He carried bread, cheese, and wine, but his action told her something was wrong. When his hand shook, a small piece of folded paper fell from under the napkin. It landed just inside her door, against the dark rug.
Isla gasped briefly.