Morning sunlight spilled across the silken drapes in her room, gilding the chamber in gold. She woke with less fever than yesterday, and a restless energy hummed beneath her skin, itching to get up and do something.
Staying in bed all day was torture. The Duke's mansion was massive, and though her body still felt like a fragile porcelain doll, she thought she could manage a short exploration. She wasn't sure if her maids would approve, though.
Mila had gone to prepare her breakfast, leaving her unattended. Natasha still hadn't returned from the palace, after delivering her letter. She was starting to get worried that she had been caught.
It was only a few hours' ride from here to the palace. Why wasn't she back yet?
Silver scanned the room.
"Perfect," she whispered, slipping her legs over the edge of the bed.
Every step was a battle—her knees kept wobbling despite her will, and it was getting hard to breathe—but sheer tenacity carried her out of the room.
