The corridor outside Isabella's suite felt like a living thing listening.
Sophia moved with breath held, pressed to shadow. She had promised to keep watch. She had promised to alert Luca if anyone approached. She'd learned the mansion's small betrayals: a misplaced boot, a different creak in a door, the way a servant's footsteps never fell at random.
She saw the figure slip through the door before it closed all the way.
Maria.
Sophia's heart stuttered. She stepped forward, hand on the rail of the hallway, and then because the girl had to be sure she pushed the door open a fraction.
Maria turned. The older woman's face was slate-calm in the dim light, cloak wrapped tight. For a second Sophia expected warning or panic.
Instead Maria's voice was quiet, almost maternal.
"I'm not here to harm her."
Sophia's shoulders tensed. "Then explain why you're in her room at this hour."
