"Home is where the heart is. Mine apparently got lost in transit."
***
The servants would see a loyal maid reassuring her anxious master.
They had no idea they were watching a predator confirm her target.
Henrik pulled open the carriage door. The hinges creaked in the morning quiet. I climbed inside like a man ascending the steps to his own execution. Slowly. Reluctantly. With visible trepidation.
My hand found the brass railing. Fingers wrapped around the cold metal with excessive caution, as though I feared the very act of boarding might result in my immediate death.
I even hesitated on the step. One hand clutched the door frame like I needed it to keep from toppling backward. My face twisted into an expression of poorly concealed fear. Lower lip caught between my teeth.
The performance never stopped when servants were watching.
Especially when servants were watching.
