Living in royalty can't be so bad, right? But... what if you're not technically royal?
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In late eighteenth century Europe, nestled in eastern France, is a peaceful kingdom called Totresia. A carriage wreck disturbs that peace when found by Totr...
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It took an eternity to soothe Miss M. into slumber. To coax her into believing all would be well, no harm would come to her, and Eugene Thatcher wouldn't hunt her down to use her against the Dowager.
But the instant Johanna stepped out of the Study and into the tranquil Mirror Hall, she released a painful breath and slouched against the door.
We are in trouble.
Try as she might to comfort her mistress, Johanna had no doubt the woman was right. An eerie veil of mystery had cloaked the entire evening from the moment it had started. The rumors of intruders, the secret meeting she caught in the kitchen—none of it meant anythinggood.
But she had to keep a straight face and a solid faith to convince Miss M. of the contrary.
Tugging her tresses out of their tight side-braids, Johanna blew out her cheeks. Only one other person would listen to her woes and inform her if something was amiss at the Graduation. An individual who shared her concerns though he was often hard to decipher.
Sir Knowles will figure out what to do.
He would be downstairs, mingling among the visitors, as always, ensuring the Graduates behaved themselves and the buffet had enough food for all. Cringing at the notion of interrupting, Johanna tiptoed down the main stairs, wondering how much longer the after-party would last. Prior years had seen guests howling at the moon in the hours before dawn, and staff members struggling to clean the Ballroom after the messes they made.
Once she reached the foot of the steps, only darkness and silence welcomed her into the Entryway. The hallway was dim and devoid of the usual laughter and clinking glasses that signified festivities. A weak fire lit up a small area of the Parlor, and she heard a few sounds from the kitchen, but that was all.
She peeked at the nighttime guard, perched by the front doors, and he perked up as he noticed her approach. "Is the Ceremony over?"
He snorted, then chuckled. "Surprising, no? Sir Knowles threwthem all out—told them to carry on in town, if they had to imbibe in such manners. He ushered the ladies to bed, including the Graduates."
Chills spilling down her spine, Johanna wrapped her fingers around the railing for support. "Odd. Is he in his office?"
The man shrugged. "I suppose. Though with how annoyed he appeared, he may have retired to his chambers."
She thanked him and scurried up the steps, a gloomy sensation coating her insides. Never had Sir Knowles used his authority as Assistant Director to send off guests; especially the wealthy parents whose dues kept the Academy running.
Miss M. had again proved her hunches were spot on—somethingwas wrong.
Johanna squeezed into the Library, scanning the far wall to check the two doors—the left, Sir Knowles' office, and the right, his bedroom. The latter was closed, and the former open, with a faint but flickering light pouring out.
