Claire's biggest concern was running into the King. That would only make whatever feud they had going on much worse.
The stairs was empty and mostly dark. She clung to the walls, ready to turn and flee the moment she saw someone coming.
But no one came.
The servant's entrance was through the kitchen from her knowledge of general architecture.
Just as she was about to open the door, it burst open. Two servants, a male cook and a maid, emerged, their hands entwined suspiciously. She pressed herself again the wall, praying that they'd just pass without looking at her.
"I can't wait to be inside you." The man said, pulling her along faster.
Claire rolled her eyes. Sword and sheath, wasn't it?
She moved towards the door again, but the back of her dress caught against something on the wall.
A painting.
Not just any painting. The painting of the late Queen.
