She held the girl's gaze.
"If anyone asks where you've been, you were fetching my bath oils from the lower storeroom. You got lost. You're new. You're stupid. Can you do that?"
Maren swallowed hard. "I'm not stupid, my lady."
"I know you're not. That's why I'm trusting you with this."
The girl looked down at the letter in her hand. Then back up at Elyra. Something passed between them — not affection exactly, but something close. The quiet understanding of two women who knew what it meant to be overlooked and underestimated.
"I'll go now," Maren whispered. "Before they lock the passages."
"Go."
Maren slipped out. The door closed behind her with a soft click.
Elyra sat alone in the candlelight, surrounded by the ash of two burned letters and the empty spaces where her jewelry had been. She looked at the vanity mirror again. Same tired eyes. Same bare throat. Same woman.
