A relentless snowstorm had buried the palace beneath a thick blanket of snow, piling nearly to the tops of our doors. Guards on duty kept shovelling pathways tirelessly, clearing the main palace grounds and, likely on my brother's orders, ensuring the snow was removed from my own entrances as well.
It had been days since the assassination attempt, and I neither saw Soren nor Margarette. Without his return, I'd settled a little easier, though his betrayal was never far from my mind. Any noises, slight or loud, made me startle and look over my shoulder. Theo tried to relax me with shoulder and head massages, but they didn't work.
The moment I felt too relaxed, I forced myself to become alert. Theo seemed to become increasingly concerned and suspicious of me—he kept asking me if I was keeping something from him. My hard denial proved he was correct. Still, I would not tell him about Soren. I needed it confirmed first.
