Dionne
I caught the portrait before it could hit the floor, but the damage was done. A thin crack now ran diagonally across the glass, bisecting the woman's beautiful face. It wasn't shattered, but the damage was visible.
Horror crashed over me in waves as I stared at what I'd done. My hands shook as I quickly tucked the portrait back between the two volumes where I'd found it, before turning to face Margaret.
"I asked you a question," Margaret said coldly, stepping further into the room. "What are you doing snooping through the King's personal belongings?"
"I-I was dusting," I stammered, positioning myself between Margaret and the shelf, my body blocking her view of where I'd hidden the damaged portrait.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Had she seen what I'd dropped? Had she heard the crack of glass? I kept my eyes fixed on her face, terrified that if I looked back at the shelf, I'd draw her attention to it.
