She considered the various possibilities. Only one explanation made sense. Someone had taken her bag. To wash the clothes, iron them, burn them—who knew why?
A castle had to have a large staff. She would flag someone down and ask how to contact Mare, the maid who had taken Izzy to the room.
Izzy poked her head out into the hallway. It was empty. Waiting for someone to appear, she shoved her hands into the deep pockets of the robe. No one came.
“Is anyone out there?” she half whispered.
No reply.
Come on. Izzy grew impatient. Maids and butlers should be running around, but no one appeared. That meant she would have to find someone herself. She tightened the belt of her robe.
Stepping into the hallway, Izzy left the door open to remember which room was hers.
The farther she moved away
