CHAPTER 58
"Why are you out of bed?" Clara hissed.
Isabella froze, her breath hitching in her throat as the sudden confrontation sent a jolt of adrenaline through her weakened frame.
The corridor, which had felt like a vast, empty tunnel only seconds ago, now seemed to shrink around her.
Clara stood rooted to the spot, her arms overflowing with a stack of heavy, leather-bound books that looked nearly as old as the walls themselves.
The witch's sharp gaze swept over Isabella, lingering with a mixture of shock and undisguised disdain on the oversized silk shirt and the glowing mark on her neck
"Why are you out of bed?" Clara hissed, her voice low but sharp enough to cut through the silence.
Isabella didn't answer immediately. Her brain felt foggy, the double-beat of her heart thudding slowly against her ribs, but her eyes didn't waver.
