Hope

The torches are low tonight—good. Less chance someone sees the panel shift.

I press my palm to the groove behind the corner of the stone wall opposite the bed, just like a few nights before. The wall gives a soft groan, cool air wafting out. The scent of damp stone and something older—like burned herbs and ash—rises to meet me.

I spare one last glance at the door to my room. The small separation between the floor and the door gives me a faint view of light and shadow. I know guards are out there, but I’m also certain they’ll have no reason to step inside as long as...