A knock at the door broke her thoughts.
The door to her chambers opened, and Sir Locke entered quietly, bowing low as she announced, "Lady Evelyn, your presence is requested downstairs."
Evelyn didn't respond immediately. Her mind was still racing, still entangled in the web Nathaniel had woven for her. But she knew, deep down, that this was not a request—it was another command. Another way to remind her that she was not in control, no matter how much she wished it.
She turned to face him, her expression carefully neutral. "I will be down shortly," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
Evelyn inhaled deeply, her fingers tightening slightly around the bed's carved frame. Another demand. She straightened her posture, pushing down the unease that had settled in her chest. She would not let him see her falter.
