Robin
Iwake up feeling guilty.
For a moment I lie still, staring up at the canopy overhead. The carved wooden posts on all four corners seem to loom over me like prison bars.
You knew better. You weren’t supposed to let her in again.
But I still feel bad for what I said. For walking out when she was trying so hard.
Trying is not enough, I remind myself. Not anywhere near enough.
But try as I might, the hollowness in my chest aches more than I want to admit. I throw off the covers and get out of bed. The castle feels different this morning—more oppressive, the shadows deeper. Or maybe that’s just me, seeing everything through the lens of disappointment.
With a deep sigh, I accept the inevitable: I’m going to feel bad until I apologize for walking out on her last night.
I find Eva in her study even before breakfast, hunched over contracts like some strangely beautiful gargoyle. Her black hair falls in perfect waves over one shoulder, and she’s dressed in a crisp white shirt that makes the shadows around her look darker. She doesn’t look up when I enter, even though I know she heard me.
“Did you need something?” Her voice is neutral, businesslike.
I stare at her, waiting for her to look up, to give me something—even irritation would be better than this cold indifference. But she keeps her eyes on her papers, her pen moving in quick, sharp strokes as she signs her name.
“Seriously?” I snap at last. “We’re back to this?”
Finally, she glances up. Those amber eyes that burned for me last night are now flat, distant. “I have work to do, Robin.”
I shake my head and turn on my heel, slamming the door behind me with enough force to rattle the frame. The noise echoes through the hallway, louder than I expected, but I’m not about to go back and apologize.
Let her sit in her study and be miserable.
See if I care.
“Will you still accompany me to the village cemetery today?”
Stefan’s warm voice is a balm after Eva’s arctic treatment. He’s already seated at the breakfast table in the smaller dining room, coffee steaming beside a plate of fresh pastries. When he smiles, the lines around his eyes crinkle with genuine warmth.
Eva’s chair is empty, her crystal goblet unused, napkin still folded.
“I’d like that,” I say, settling into the chair Stefan pulls out for me in an old-world gesture of courtesy.
Stefan pours me coffee from an ornate silver service. “I trust Eva hasn’t been too…difficult this morning?”
I take a sip of the perfectly brewed coffee and study his face. Stefan Novak is everything his niece isn’t—warm where she’s cold, talkative where she’s guarded, friendly where she’s aloof. I suspect he has the same sharp intelligence, but it’s wrapped in charm instead of ice.
“We had some difficult business discussions last night,” he goes on when I say nothing. “That’s why I ask.”
“She’s fine,” I lie smoothly. “Just busy, I guess.”
Stefan’s knowing look tells me he doesn’t believe it for a second, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he lifts a croissant with the delicate silver tongs and places it on my plate. “A pleasant walk down to the village will do us both good.”
As he sips his coffee, I find myself relaxing for the first time since I woke up. This is whatordinaryfeels like, even in some gothic castle—breakfast conversation, genuine smiles, the absence of power games and emotional manipulation. It makes the ache in my chest ease, just a little.
The air outside is crisp and clean, and I can smell spring in the air, even though it’s still cold. We make our way down thewinding road that leads from the castle to the village below. The trees are budding now, making the forests seem less grim.
I pull my coat tighter and breathe deeply, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. Away from the castle’s oppressive halls, away from Eva’s moods and having to guesswhichEva I’ll be presented with at any given moment, I can almost pretend I’m just a normal woman taking a walk with a new friend.
“You seem lighter away from the castle,” Stefan observes, his hands clasped behind his back as we walk.
“It’s beautiful out here,” I say, which is true but not the whole truth. The whole truth is that the castle feels like a prison sometimes, beautiful and luxurious, but still a jail. And after last night, after Eva’s failure to tell me what I needed to hear, the bars feel tighter than ever.
