Silence settled over the chamber like a suffocating fog. It pressed against my ears. Against my chest. Against the fragile edges of my resolve.
Freda did not answer my question. She didn't even look at me again.
She simply turned, heels clicking softly against the stone, and walked away as though none of this concerned her—my pain, my impending death, the corruption festering at the heart of this palace.
The door responded to her presence instantly, parting without touch, without sound, opening as though it recognized her authority.
I watched it with a dull, aching focus. The mechanism fascinated me in a distant, desperate way. It wasn't just a door. It was a system. A spell. A gate woven into the very bones of this place.
It meant escape might be possible.
If I survived long enough to attempt it. If the stake didn't finish dismantling me first.
The queen remained where she was, studying me with open, predatory amusement.
