ORLANDA had been up long before the sun’s sleepy rays crawled across the old wooden floorboards of her hidden prison. She hadn’t slept much, not really. How could she? The fragile thread of hope Queen had dangled in front of her mind had pulled her awake every hour, every minute, every heartbeat.

Today was the day. Two days exactly, just as Queen had promised.

She paced the tiny room like a restless shadow, barefoot, arms wrapped around her thin frame, the silence of dawn pressing in from every corner. Her eyes darted to the door every few steps, as if her sheer longing could pull Queen through it.

At one...