Rhysand’s POV

The housekeeper sat across from me with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Too neatly. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, her chin lowered just enough to suggest fear, but her breathing was controlled. Measured.

I had seen real terror many times before—raw, uneven, leaking through every crack in the body. This wasn’t that. This was rehearsal. She kept her eyes on the floor as if looking at me would be too much, but she answered every question immediately.

No hesitation. ...