The courtyard was now eerily quiet. The assembled servants, their faces pale with a new terror of their mistress, had vanished like mist, scurrying back to the perceived safety of their duties. The only sounds were the distant call of a bird and the crunch of gravel as the guards, their grim task completed, patrolled the surroundings.
Derek watched Marissa for a long, silent moment. He pushed himself off the stone pillar and began to follow her.
His footsteps on the marble floor were the only sound. Marissa turned, her face a cool, impassive mask, and began to walk towards her bedchamber. She did not wait for him.
He followed her, his hands clasped behind his back, easily keeping pace with her unhurried, graceful strides. They walked through the grand entrance hall, past servants who pressed themselves flat against the walls, their heads bowed so low they were nearly touching their knees, afraid to even breathe in their new mistress's presence.
