Julian
I spun around, my hand instinctively moving to the sword at my hip before I remembered I'd left it in my quarters. The figure at the entrance of the servant corridor stepped forward into the faint torchlight, and the face that emerged from the shadows was the last one I'd expected.
Jennifer.
She looked like a ghost of the woman I'd seen at the ball earlier — her hair pinned loosely, her gown slightly rumpled, her face carrying that same gaunt, hollowed-out look she'd been wearing for days. But her eyes were sharp and alert, and from the glint in them, it seemed she'd been waiting for this exact moment.
