~Lydia's POV~
"Did she trust you now?" I asked, eyes fixed on my reflection as I combed through my hair, watching the silver teeth glide through dark curls.
Maribel's reflection hovered behind me, her posture small, her fear delicious. "Yes, my lady, she believes I'm helping her. She thinks I'm the only one on her side."
A smile curved my lips. "Good."
She fidgeted with the edge of her apron. "She drank the blood you sent, every drop."
I met her gaze through the mirror. "Excellent. And the letter?"
"I gave it to her and she thinks it's from Tristan. I told her he wants her to run away tonight, when the moon turns crimson."
I paused, comb halfway through a strand. "You told her that?"
"Yes, my lady and she seemed… hopeful."
"Hopeful." I let the word roll off my tongue like something sour. "Perfect, let her hope. Hope makes fools of the weak."
Maribel blinked, unsure whether to nod or hold her breath as I turned on the stool, setting the comb aside with a soft click.
