Chapter 59

The morning had worn on without mercy. The sun had climbed high into a cloudless sky, casting too much light onto things Beatrice would rather keep buried.

She spent the better part of the day buried in formalities. A brief meeting with the steward of the treasury, followed by an unbearable garden tea with visiting nobles who fawned over Johanna like she was a crowned saint. Beatrice played her part, lips curved, voice measured. But her mind was somewhere else.

It wasn't until late afternoon that she finally slipped away, retreating into one of the smaller libraries on the third floor. A quiet, book-laden place rarely visited except by academics and people who needed to be forgotten.

She sank into the window seat, the glass warm against her back. Her hands rested in her lap, perfectly still.

Until a voice broke the silence.

"There you are."

Beatrice didn't need to turn to know who it was.