* * *
Apart from the sensation that her mind was floating away like a balloon, Liliette’s day had been relatively uneventful. She had spent the afternoon dispatching carefully chosen gifts from her estate to the families of the young ladies who had voiced their support for her.
By the time her senses returned, night had already fallen. She had just settled into Ingrid’s bed, basking in the calm glow of the lantern light, when the peace was abruptly shattered.
Ingrid, clad in her nightgown, stormed toward the maid guarding the door, her voice sharp with anger. “What kind of madness is this? Barging in at this hour and spewing such lunacy? Tell that bald old man to leave, or I swear I’ll rip his scalp off!”
A chilly breeze drifted in through the window, making Liliette shiver.
“Please calm down, Your Highness,” another maid protested. “Despite everything, he is the high priest—”
