Chapter 11
Aria’s POV.
My hands shook as I stared at the crumpled note, the bold words; "Meet me by the garden" burning into my mind. Who sent it? My heart raced, a wild beat that drowned out the quiet of my room.
Fear and curiosity twisted together, sharp and heavy in my chest. I couldn’t let anyone find this. Not Celeste, not Mother, not the maids who might whisper.
My fingers tore the paper into tiny pieces, each rip a small act of defiance against the unknown threat. I grabbed a candle from the bedside table, its flame flickering, and held the shreds over it.
The fire caught fast, curling the edges black, the ashes drifting to the floor like dead leaves. I stomped them into nothing, my breath shaky. No one would know. No one could.
I crossed to the wardrobe, my bare feet cold on the wooden floor, and pulled out a dark regalia with a hooded cloak.
The fabric was heavy, its deep green folds swallowing the dim light. I slipped it on, the hood shielding half my face, hiding the makeup that made me look like Celeste.
My reflection in the mirror was a stranger; neither Aria nor Celeste, just a shadow caught between lies. I tightened the cloak’s ties, my fingers fumbling, and left the room, locking the door behind me.
The packhouse was quiet, its halls lit by faint torchlight, the air thick with the scent of cedar and wax.
Every creak of the floorboards made me flinch, my eyes darting to the shadows. Whoever sent that note knew something. I had to find out what.
The garden was at the edge of the packhouse, a maze of roses and ivy tucked away from prying eyes.