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By the time the unmarked carriage slipped through the heavily guarded side gates of the Marcuset estate, the mid-morning sun was high in the sky.
Heena stepped out of the carriage. She mentally reinforced her walls, locking away the fatigue, the pain, and the lingering nausea. As she walked through the sprawling, manicured courtyards toward her private wing, the passing servants immediately stopped and bowed deeply, entirely intimidated by the cold, majestic aura of their young Madam.
None of them could possibly guess that she had been squatting in a dirty alleyway, fighting for her life just an hour ago.
Heena turned the final corner toward her chambers, longing for nothing more than to strip off her heavy cloak and collapse into her bed.
But as she stepped into her private courtyard, her footsteps came to a dead halt.
Standing right in the middle of the courtyard, bathed in the morning sunlight, was Samuel.
