Meanwhile,
The castle was quiet that night. Too quiet.
The soft murmur of night insects whispered through the open stone corridors, and the distant flicker of torchlight painted long shadows against the walls.
Most of the castle slept, but Emma did not.
She stood just outside the maid's quarters, her heart hammering in her chest.
The other maids were fast asleep, their breathing steady, but she barely dared to breathe herself. One last glance over her shoulder—no one stirred.
And then, with a deep breath, she slipped out.
The cool night air rushed against her face, and her simple cotton dress swayed around her ankles as she hurried across the back courtyard, keeping to the shadows.
Her pulse thrummed with excitement, nerves, and… something warm that had been growing in her chest since yesterday.
Jaefel was waiting.
The knight leaned casually against the stone wall, arms crossed, his cloak draped loosely around his shoulders.
