The orphan girl named isabelle

Previously

…I backed away, my eyes never leaving his. The rocking horse continued its mournful creaking, the only sound besides our ragged breaths. "You don't understand," he whispered, his voice taking on a pleading tone. "It's my inheritance. My birthright. They took it from me. They took everything." The knife glinted again. He lunged. Instinct took over. I turned and ran, not back the way I came, but deeper into the west wing, the locket a burning weight in my palm. I heard him stumble, his rasping breath close behind me. The maze of the west wing, once a prison, now offered a desperate hope of escape. The chase was not over. It had only just begun.