The hour was creeping closer to midnight, and the Sexton tower bell would soon chime softly to announce the late hour.
Inside the room where Ruelle had fled hours ago, June sat stiffly on the edge of her bed. Stupid Ruelle, she thought, as the memory of her roommate stabbing Alanna resurfaced. There was still a flicker of worry—Alanna had stormed off in fury, but neither she nor Ruelle had returned. Would she have to face the consequences for letting Ruelle escape?
Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots thudded down the corridor, growing louder with every step. June turned wary, nervously smiling as the door swung open, but it wasn't Alanna.
A guard stood in the doorway—tall, stoic, his face unreadable. His eyes scanned the room before he questioned,
"Ruelle Belmont. Which are her belongings?"
June blinked in confusion, her mind catching up to the moment. "Her belongings?" she repeated, her tone bordering on doubt.
