Chapter forty nine Strength Lies in Wisdom

Anna stared at her reflection in the dressing mirror, sunlight streaming through the tall windows and casting sharp patterns across the polished glass. The warmth of the afternoon did little to ease the chill tightening in her chest. She had to be more focused now.

She had not seen Roland since the incident between them that fateful night. He had not shown face in the castle ever since nor even at the social ball, she could not tell if his absence was because of anger or embarrassment.

She had dismissed him that night without a second thought, William was the only one her heart could care about when his valet entered—not herself, not Roland either.

She had not summoned the courage to approach him since the kidnapping, nor to investigate their dealings—to spy on them in their secret meetings—in the time that followed.

The memory of her kidnapping still clung to her, raw and unshaken—the binding ropes, the muffled threats.