Something inside me was changing and I no longer knew whether I should be frightened or fascinated.
Every morning brought another strange difference and I had started noticing things that would have been impossible only weeks earlier. I could hear servants speaking several rooms away, I could distinguish individual footsteps among crowded corridors and I could even hear the faint scratching of a quill against parchment when someone was writing behind a closed door.
At breakfast that morning, I sat across from Draven while Lyra poured tea and I found myself listening to conversations happening beyond the dining chamber.
Two guards were discussing a patrol near the eastern tower and a servant was complaining about a broken water jug.
Someone in the corridor was quietly humming and I coul
