Baldwin, walking late with Aimery, furrowed his brow as the cloaked maid hurried away. Something about her was unsettling. Aimery, noticing his master's expression, asked, "Something wrong, my lord?"
Baldwin hesitated, then shook his head. "I need to check on something." Without another word, he turned sharply and bolted down the hall, his heart pounding as a realization crept in. If his suspicions were correct, the queen was far from resting in her bed.
Baldwin moved swiftly through the corridors, his mind racing. The way the maid had spoken, the way she carried herself—it gnawed at him. It was too deliberate, too careful. And that voice...
He reached the end of the hallway and glanced around. The figure had disappeared into the shadows, but Baldwin wasn't one to be easily deceived.
"Aimery," he called over his shoulder, his voice low but firm.
His companion was quick to catch up. "You truly think it was someone important?"
