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soul go? She could imagine leaving her body behind and flying right out the window. Somehow, that thought gave her an inner peace she hadn’t believed possible, and her mood brightened.
    Clare came with her dinner, setting it on the table with a flourish. “I don’t know what you did to the king, but he’s been in a foul mood all day. You’re lucky to be out of his way. From how he’s been carrying on, he may keep you locked up for a week.”
    That brought a small smile to her lips, and she was grateful it hadn’t been all for nothing. At least she had caused him some humiliation. Then she imagined how upset it would make him to find her dead, and raw satisfaction made her smile even bigger.
    “I hope you think it was worth it,” Clare said.
    Teya glanced at her with surprise. “It was.”
    Clare sat down beside Teya, surprising her even more, and patted her hand. “You never heard this from me,” she whispered. “But I’m glad you did it, and so are plenty of others. You’re not alone. This may come as a surprise, but there are people on your side. Don’t give up.”
    With that Clare swept out of the room, locking the door behind her. Teya’s breath caught. What did she mean by that? Would someone risk their life to rescue her? Impossible! It was a fool’s errand that would only result in death.
    Long buried hope rose in her chest, but Teya tamped it down. She couldn’t allow hope to change her plans. Nothing would come of it. How could it? She was too closely guarded, and allowing herself to believe she could escape would only bring her more pain.
    She sighed deeply and glanced at the tray of food. She was starving, and realized that planning her death had given her an appetite. Why not enjoy her last meal? Picking up her fork, she dove in and ate the light fare with enjoyment.
    However, as the evening passed her euphoria wore off. Thoughts of killing herself were quite different from actually doing it. Without something sharp, the only choices she had to accomplish the task was to either hang herself, or set her clothes on fire. Neither sounded like a good way to go. She’d much rather slit her wrists.
    She spent the next hour looking for something she could use to achieve that, but the only thing she could find was a knitting needle. Would that work? Possibly, but it would take a lot of resolve to shove it through her skin deep enough to do the job. Maybe hanging would be better after all.
    A sheet would do, but figuring out where to hang it was another problem. She opened the closet door and shoved her clothes to either side, exposing the wooden dowel that held them. It was about two inches in diameter, but still didn’t seem strong enough to hold her weight. But what did she know unless she tried it out?
    She pulled the top sheet from her bed and tied the end to the dowel, then held on and lifted her feet. The dowel sagged, but didn’t break. Still, she’d have to tie the sheet around her neck close to the dowel for it to work, and her feet might still touch the ground, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. At last, she had it ready, and stood back to admire her handiwork.
    Not long now and she’d be free. As enticing as that sounded, she wasn’t quite ready to be dead yet. One last look at the stars seemed in order, so she blew out all the candles in the room, leaving the one on the mantle to cast a warm glow.
    She moved to the broad windowsill and made a bed out of her pillows, then sat with her back against the recessed wall. The cool night air wafted over her, and she stared up, hoping to see one last shooting star before she died.
    Her eyelids drooped. Half asleep, she didn’t hear the door to her room open. It shut with a soft click, startling her. She jerked to her feet and found a cloaked man standing inside her room. In the dim light, she recognized the Ambassador from Braemar, and gasped.
    “Shh.” He held a gloved finger to his lips and waited like a coiled spring for several