Flora’s face transformed from concern to anger in an instant. She grabbed Nox, dragging her into the manor. One hand flattened on her back, the other was wrapped firmly around her wrist as she restrained Nox against the ability to bolt.

She couldn’t have fled even if she’d wanted to. She was stuck.

The moments following Flora’s discovery passed in a blur.

The matron dragged Nox—empty husk though she was—down the hall and toward the main door. She knew without being told that she was being taken to be judged by Agnes. She was in trouble. The happy morning noises didn’t match the severity of the situation. The sounds of breakfast were just starting up in the dining room from the other orphans and attending matrons. The smell of eggs wafted from the kitchen. She knew with some certainty she would not be joining her peers for breakfast.

Flora snatched the pillowcase of food and goods from her arms, lofting them in her own hand as evidence of the pending crime. It seemed quite clear that Nox had been ready to flee. Between her changes of clothes and bag of food, there was no hiding her intention. She’d been caught in a botched attempt at flight, making it no farther than the back door to the orphanage.

The moment they crossed into the courtyard, Flora started, “I caught her—”

Agnes registered Nox’s disheveled state and immediately began to gesture for them to turn and leave. Her face twisted in incomprehensible anguish as she wordlessly urged Flora to turn around. While the nurse had only intended to drag Nox before Agnes’s wrath, the Gray Matron was not alone in the courtyard.

Millicent cut Flora off, waving a hand. The Madame’s temper staved slightly as her gaze explored Nox with cool examination.

Agnes shook her head with a strange intensity. Nox wasn’t quite present enough to comprehend the Gray Matron’s expression, though she knew it wasn’t right. It didn’t fit. There was a panic behind her eyes as if she was silently begging Flora to return Nox to the manor. The Gray Matron’s wrinkles disappeared as her face tightened.

Nox said nothing. She was nothing.

“What have we here?”

“Oh, Madame Millicent, no, this girl—” Agnes began.

Millicent used her hand like a sword, slicing the sentence short with a single, quick gesture. “I won’t be robbed of my down payment, Matron. But this substitute, albeit a disappointing consolation prize, will do.”

Agnes made a strangled sound. She brought a hand to her mouth. The matron fought a peculiar, internal battle that Nox couldn’t bother to dissect as the Madame made her determining proclamation.

“Millicent, she–”

“She is acceptable. Be grateful I don’t pursue further action against your negligence and robbery.”