The next morning, Silver Bell was a city draped in blue, with local radio stations abuzz with talk of the Castle of Light massacre.
'Clop-clop.'
A carriage pulled by two horses carried three of us: Joséphine, Lady Beatrice, and me. We were headed to Charlotte's house, Lady Beatrice's friend, whose daughter was lost in the massacre.
"Are you sure it's safe?" I asked Joséphine, whose shoulder was touching mine in the tight carriage as she sat next to me.
She shifted her gaze from the apartment buildings lining the street outside Lady Beatrice's mansion and focused on me. "This carriage is for mail delivery," she explained, "no one would ever suspect a noblewoman to be riding in it."
Lady Beatrice wore a steady smile, her tears now gone and covered by makeup. She sat across from me, clad in a simple black gown and a straw hat. "Cupcake told me you were the one who intercepted the first assassin that approached me," she said.
