Inside Arielle’s chambers, a soft, tentative knock broke the stillness.

"Lady Arielle?"

It was Drusilla.

No answer.

She knocked again, firmer this time. “Lady Arielle…?”

Still nothing.

A crease formed between Drusilla’s brows. That was unusual.

She eased the door open and stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room. She held a small wooden treatment kit, the scent of antiseptic and clean linen trailing after her.

“Lady Arielle?” she called again, her voice was thin, carrying a ...