The house was dark already at nine.

The pacing of the guards had finally ceased. The hallways were silent. And all that remained was the creaking of settling old wood.

That's when Leya departed.

Night after night, for three weeks running.

Hair back. Blue jeans, unmarked. Two-sizes-too-big hoodie. She slipped out the back servants' door—where the cameras hadn't worked in decades and nobody cared enough to replace them.

She didn't stay in Blackwood's home.

But she ...