The key was still warm in Marguerite’s hand. When the door opened, she dropped it.
It landed on the cold stone floor between her feet. Something dark had smeared across the metal, catching the candlelight. Red and glistening that appeared to be blood.
Marguerite stared at the key for a moment before looking at the open doorway behind her. She had not intended to open it. All morning, she had told herself she would leave it alone.
Her husband had been very clear.
“You may wander the entire...