The light creeped in from the crack of curtains, and she gripped the wheel’s edge. The young woman glimpsed the stain of blood on her finger and stopped the spin. An eerie feeling came over her as if the lord of the manor was watching her. She whirled around to see a dark figure looming from the doorway. Suddenly his voice boomed out, “I wouldn’t slack in my duties if I were you. I’m sure you know I still have your father imprisoned below. She curled her sore finger inside her thumb, careful not to let it drip on the golden thread.



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