Beatrice's breath hitched.
She sat frozen in place, eyes locked on the candle's flickering flame, ears straining for any sound beyond the steady thrum of her own heartbeat.
The library was silent. Too silent.
Her fingers twitched over the cover of her notebook. She swallowed, forcing herself to turn her head. Slowly, carefully, and towards the door.
Nothing.
The door was still shut, the handle unmoved.
But she couldn't shake the feeling. The presence of something, someone, just beyond her line of sight. It was ridiculous. The logical part of her mind told her that.
Francois had left, and no one else had entered. The library was empty.
And yet, she felt like being watched. Beatrice exhaled, forcing a laugh under her breath.
"Losing it," she muttered, shaking her head. "Absolutely losing it."
She pressed a hand to her temple, willing herself to focus. It had been a long day. No, a long week. And the exhaustion was finally catching up to her. That was all this was.
