Chapter Forty Two
The Kitchen at Midnight
The mansion never truly slept, but at three in the morning, it grew cold. The central heating hummed a low, robotic tune through the vents, and the security cameras in the hallways blinked their tiny red eyes every six seconds.
I sat up in the dark, my skin slick with sweat from a dream about the forest. In the dream, the pine trees were burning, and Chase was calling for me from inside the smoke, but my feet were glued to a floor of solid gold. I pulled the heavy silk blanket off my legs and swung my feet onto the hardwood. My throat felt like sand.
I did not want to call for a servant. To call for someone meant waking up a house that already watched me too closely. I slipped on a simple cotton robe, bypassed the slippers, and walked out into
