The maids and guards gaped at the arrival of Duke Kleo, making a way over them, carrying the sleeping Lyra in his strong arms. Their brows furrowed, questioning where their master would take her to.
"His Grace isn't going to execute Miss Lyra tonight, is he?" asked one of the maids, squeezing the fabric in her hand, almost in tears.
No one was able to answer her question, even Mrs. Melisa was silent, seeing this tense and confusing situation.
"Are we going to witness someone we know and care about being executed again?" asked another maid, sobbing, collapsing, and being carried by her friends.
Sighing, Mrs. Melisa calmed the anxiety that welled up in her chest, following in the direction of Duke Kleo striding through the dim night lit by the orange-yellow torchlights.
