Phoebe's POV
Sleep wouldn't come. That's how I knew the instant someone slipped into my bedroom—but the corridor outside stayed eerily silent.
Two guards stood watch at my door. If an intruder had forced their way to me, I'd have heard the clash of steel, the sound of a struggle.
The silence left only two possibilities racing through my mind: either the guards recognized whoever had entered, or...
They were one of the surviving Movement members—those who'd burrowed so deep into the palace that even the king's bloody purge had missed them.
I couldn't bear to consider the second option. It was too terrifying. Because it meant this person had come to kill me.
My mind was spiraling, but I couldn't stop it. Not after everything I'd endured.
Without hesitation, I rolled out of bed, snatched the fruit knife from my nightstand, and dove underneath. I curled into the smallest ball possible, wishing I could simply vanish.
