Camilla pov...
The silence in my suite was fragile. Then it shattered.
Shouting. From below. A woman's sharp cry, then a lower, furious rumble. My heart hammered. I listened.
"Do you want Mr. Thorne to kill me?" Mrs. Cavy's voice. "I will die if he gets back and she has not eaten. Make her come down."
"I tried." Sophia's voice, thin. "She did not want to."
"Then try harder!"
I didn't think. I ran. Barefoot, in a silk towel, hair wild. I shoved past the guards at the door. "Move."
Something in my eyes worked. They fell back.
I took the servants' stairs, down into the kitchen. The voices came from the pantry. I stepped into the doorway.
Mrs. Cavy froze. Her face went pale. "Miss Camilla! You are not dressed—"
"I don't care." I looked at Sophia. Then at Mrs. Cavy. "From now on, no one treats her like a maid."
"Pardon?"
"She is my sister." My voice was quiet, hard. "She does not bow. She does not knock. She does not serve. She is my family. Do you understand?"
