*** Ariana’s POV
The door clicks shut behind me, and I turn automatically, scanning for a lock. My fingers skim the edges of the wood, searching the smooth surface in vain. Nothing. Not even a latch to bar the door from the inside.
I exhale in irritation, stepping back to take in the room, my gaze darting from the chest against the far wall to the chair near the fire. Both seem flimsy options to block the door, but I’m already calculating how much noise they’d make if someone tried to come in uninvited.
At least I’d have a warning.
Pivoting quickly, my breath catches—no, halts altogether. There’s someone sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Elara?” I blurt, my voice sharp as I take a reflexive step back. “What the hell?”
The woman perched before me doesn’t flinch, her head tilting slightly as if I were the intruder.
“Miss Ariana,” she says softly, her lips curling into a small, fragile smile. It’s disarming, but only because it doesn’t erase the dark circles under her eyes or the hollows i
