Straw stood outside waiting. She did not pace, did not fidget, but her stillness was forced. Her hands were clasped together in front of her, fingers pressing into each other hard enough to sting. She kept her gaze forward, even though there was nothing in particular to look at.
She did not know why the princess had called for her, or why she had been asked to enter a carriage. The guards had said nothing more than that she was expected. That alone made her uneasy. Expected sounded too formal.
Everything that had happened earlier that day still sat heavy in her chest. The blood. The screams. The way Berryanna had looked afterward. That distant, cold focus in her eyes. She swallowed, forcing the memory down, but it refused to settle.
The carriage was already on the way, wheels faintly audible in the distance, when Straw felt a presence behind her.
It was not a sound. It was not a touch. It was instinct. She turned. Berryanna stood there.
