The quiet mansion echoed faintly with the sound of small, uneven footsteps. Liliette didn’t get far before her legs gave out beneath her, sending her crumpling to the floor. Even lying there, her limbs trembled uncontrollably. It was a small mercy that no servants were around to witness her collapse.
Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting cross-shaped shadows across the cold marble floor. The golden spring light poured over her face, blinding her. Its radiance mocked her sorrow, the beauty of the season a cruel contrast to the hollow ache inside her chest.
The pain was sharp and searing as if she had carved out a piece of her own flesh. She knew she had done the right thing by cutting away a festering wound, but that knowledge didn’t dull the agony. As cold sweat beaded on her forehead and dampened her palms, she shook her head and forced herself to move.
