Chapter 50 - An Unexpected Ally

Alaric stood in the small, prison-like room that had been Isabella's entire world for so many years, his jaw clenched as he examined another of her paintings. The skill evident in her work was remarkable, especially considering her circumstances. Each brushstroke spoke of both talent and deep emotional pain.

"You deserved better than this," I muttered, running my fingers over the canvas.

The room was barely larger than a servant's quarters—a bed too small for comfort, a tiny desk positioned to catch what little natural light came through the window, and bare walls save for a few sketches. It resembled a holding cell more than a noblewoman's bedchamber.

I set down the painting and moved to examine the lock on her door, installed not to protect her but to protect her mother's possessions from her thieving half-sister. My fingers traced the splintered wood where Clara had tried to force her way in.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.

"Enter," I called, turning toward the door.