RAVYN'S POV
The curtain fluttered—just once—stirred by a draft or a shift in magic. I remained perfectly still, sunk beneath the water, the surface broken only by my eyes and the crown of my head. The bath, once warm and soothing, now felt too quiet. The scent of eucalyptus clung to the air, no longer calming, but sharp and invasive. My pulse was a steady hammer beneath my skin, its beat reverberating in my temples.
Then, the soft shuffling of slippered feet against stone.
Two figures emerged into the chamber—girls, dancers like me, their silhouettes familiar in the pale light filtering from the stained-glass window. Their corseted tops were half-laced and boots half-buckled, like they'd rushed here straight from gossip. Their movements were careful but eager, like cats on the hunt.
They did not see me.
But I saw them.
They paused near the benches, eyes scanning the steam-hazed space. "Where is she?" one of them hissed, her voice sharp as flint.
