Beatrice sat in the quiet of the royal library, ink smudging the side of her hand as she scribbled furiously in her notebook. The pages were filling up faster than she expected, each line carefully detailing the novel's key events. At least, the ones that hadn't been ruined by her interference.
She had to get everything down before she forgot. Before things changed again.
Her candle flickered slightly, casting shifting shadows across the desk. The library was mostly empty at this hour, save for the occasional servant passing by. It was the perfect place to write without interruption.
Or so she thought.
Footsteps echoed against the marble floors. Steady. Purposeful. Familiar.
Beatrice stiffened.
She barely had time to shove the notebook under a larger tome before Francois stepped into view, dressed as impeccably as ever, his sharp gaze immediately landing on her.
"You're here late," he noted.
Beatrice forced a casual shrug. "So are you."
