Ophelia closed the door to her suite with a soft click, then stood there for a moment, listening. Nothing. The hush of the corridor beyond was too quiet to be soothing. She pressed her back against the polished wood and let out a shaky breath, her fingers clutching her small clutch bag more tightly than necessary. Her nails dug into the fabric, but she did not stop.
She moved slowly, trying not to look at the mirrored panels along the walls; Serathine had eyes everywhere. But not here. Not in her private room. Not inside the drawer beneath the second vanity, hidden behind the fake bottom that only she could pull up with a sharp twist of her thumb.
Her fingers fumbled on the first try.
"Come on," she muttered, biting the inside of her cheek.
