The hallway was dim and cold. The torches had burned low, casting long, flickering shadows against the stone walls.
Carlos stood hidden behind a large marble pillar. He held his breath, his eyes fixed on the heavy oak door at the end of the corridor—Marissa's bedchamber.
He had been waiting there for a long time. He wanted to know. He needed to verify the rumors that Senna had screamed at the gates.
Click.
The door handle turned.
Carlos pressed himself deeper into the shadows.
The door opened, and Derek stepped out.
He was wearing his night clothes, his hair messy. He stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, his hand lingering on the wood. Then, he turned and walked away, heading toward his own separate chambers.
Carlos watched him go. A slow, dark smirk spread across his face.
"So," Carlos whispered to the empty hallway. "It is true."
He stepped out from behind the pillar, looking at Derek's retreating back with contempt.
