Mirelle moved through the quiet corridors with measured steps, careful to keep the tray steady in her hands as she made her way toward Circe's bedchambers. The halls were quiet, broken only by the faint echo of her footsteps against the polished floors. Sunlight filtered weakly through the tall windows, casting long, pale streaks across the walls as she passed.
Ever since Circe had returned home with Rowen, Mirelle had harbored a growing suspicion that the unthinkable had already happened, despite everything she had secretly done to prevent it. The very thought gnawed at her but she forced herself to set it aside. It hardly mattered now. What was done could not be undone.
Still, Mirelle reassured herself with a steely resolve. Everything would soon be set to rights. There was no better day than this to execute her plan, especially with the prince away on official duties. The absence of Ragnar created an opportunity too perfect to ignore, one she had no intention of wasting.
