Rudy guided Niti down the damp stone corridor, moving away from the washing pavilion with slow, unhurried strides. Large, glistening drops of moisture clung to the rough-hewn obsidian bricks, reflecting the dim torchlight illuminating the basement levels.
Niti kept her chin buried against her chest, her small hands frantically picking at the damp, soap-scented fabric of her stained apron. Every few steps, her gaze flicked to the stone floor, terrified that the heavy clatter of her leather flats might draw unwanted attention.
They had barely crossed the threshold into the main logistical hall when a sharp heel clicked against the flagstones.
A tall, pale vampire wearing a pristine black uniform and holding a heavy silver-embossed clipboard slid into their path. It was Mistress Verna, the senior overseer of the lower palace staff. Directly behind her, Elara paced like a caged animal, her fangs fully bared and her finger pointing aggressively over Verna's shoulder.
