Her mother was gone.

The outer door crashed shut. Shouting followed. Boots thundered past.

She clutched the cloth-wrapped blade tighter as her heart pounded in her ears.

A scream ripped through the hall—her mother’s, choked and cut short.

Sorcha moved before thought could catch her, tearing free of the tapestry and bolting down the corridor barefoot, breath ragged, smoke stinging her eyes. A shadow passed ahead, and she saw her.