Lorelei

The first thing I registered was the sound of the door crashing open, followed by a wave of cold air and an even colder presence. I jolted awake, my heart hammering against my ribs, scrambling upright in the tangle of sheets. A woman stood silhouetted in the doorway, her face a mask of pinched displeasure in the dim morning light. It took me a moment to place her—one of the simpering ladies who had flanked the Dowager Queen during my first, disastrous audience.

She didn’t wait for ...