KATHERINE

Night had already fallen. I was drenched in water, covered in the dust from the road, and utterly exhausted—more mentally than physically.

I stepped into a small sitting room, adorned with lavish furniture and a tea service table.

The décor was exquisite: paintings, heavy drapes, finely crafted hardwood furniture—even the ceiling had intricate detailing.

Everything was beautiful, but if you looked closely, certain details stood out—the cobwebs half-hidden in the corners, the dust poorly wiped away.

When I opened the bedroom door, the stale, damp smell hit my nose, despite the clean sheets.

Whoever was in charge of cleaning this room did everything but clean properly.

At least they had left the fireplace burning in the cold room.

When I opened the enormous wooden wardrobe, I almost expected bats to come flying out like from a cave.

That thing hadn’t taken a single breath of air in all this time.

“Well, what a pathetic excuse for a Duchess you were, dear sister,” I murmured wi