*Isla*

My stomach is tangled in knots as I stare across the room at the tray of table Poppy has brought me. She keeps bringing me things to eat that I’m too nervous to touch.

Poppy putters around the room, rehanging clothes, moving things from one place to another that don’t need to be moved. She’s cleaning the same surfaces over and over, too, as if she has nothing better to do but also doesn’t want to leave me alone.

Her sources, the other staff in the castle, ...