Then she turned, crossed the room in near silence, and slipped out the way she had come. The door closed with a muted click, and the chamber fell silent once more.
She waited and counted to five. Then ten. Only when she was certain the maid's footsteps had faded far down the corridor did she open her eyes.
The room looked unchanged as the fire in the hearth gave a low crackle and the moonlight traced pale lines across the floor. Her pulse, however, refused to slow when slowly, she pushed the blanket aside and swung her legs over the bed.
The floor was cold beneath her feet, and the chill grounded her in a way the warmth had not been. Lucrezia stood carefully, as if sudden movement might bring the distortion back and crossed the room toward the tall wardrobe near the far wall.
It was carved with climbing ivy and crowned with a narrow mirror. Anyone watching would think she meant to fetch a shawl.
