She ignored him in favor of assessing her surroundings: Windows, and a balcony behind Malfoy’s bent form. A luxurious bed nearly suffocating her with its linens. A bed canopy of black, gauzy curtains, stirring gently in a breeze from the open balcony. A pretty prison—far more generous than the dungeon, and much more richly appointed than the Celestial Houses the Order’s regiments occupied. 