Philippa sat up in her bed, the moonlight shining through the high windows of her chamber, creating silvery patterns on the stone walls. The slight rustle of the fire in the hearth was the only sound in the room as she tightened the thin blanket around her shoulders. Omar and Abu stood before her, their faces a mix of concern and surprise.
"You cannot be serious," Omar said softly yet urgently. "To sneak out in your condition, and to see a prisoner no less? If anyone catches you, it would be disastrous."
Abu nodded in agreement. "The court is still divided, My Lady. Many would use even the whisper of impropriety against you. This plan... it is madness."
Philippa's eyes glinted with determination as she began unlacing her ornate nightgown. Beneath it, she had donned the plain garb of a maidservant. "Madness?" she countered. "Perhaps. But if I do nothing, the real traitors will continue to plot, unchecked. That prisoner holds the answers I need. And I'll not let fear stop me."
