Dominic found himself staring not at the horizon but at her. Perfect. Yes, that was the word.
"Come with me," she said suddenly, extending her hand. "There's something I want to show you."
Before he could answer, she turned and ran through the flowers, her skirts gathered in one hand, her laughter trailing behind her like a ribbon. The saffron blooms parted for her, closing again in her wake as if eager to embrace her passing.
"June, wait!" he called, amused by her unexpected playfulness. This was not the sharp-tongued, proud woman who had challenged him at every turn. This was someone freer, unburdened by the weight of past hurts or societal expectations.
He stepped forward to follow, his heart light in his chest.
One step. That was all it took.
Pain seized him without warning—a crushing, vicious vise around his heart that stole his breath and bent him double. His knees struck the ground hard, crushed saffron releasing its scent into the air around him.
No, not now. Not here. Not with her.
He tried to call out, but no sound emerged. The brilliant colors of sunset warped and twisted before his eyes, bleeding into one another like watercolors in rain. He clutched at his chest, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if he could physically pry away the agony.
June turned, her smile fading as she saw him kneeling among the flowers.
"Dominic?" Her voice seemed to come from a great distance, though she was running back toward him now, her expression transforming from joy to horror. "Dominic!"
He tried to reach for her, but his arm would not obey. The blue of the sky deepened, darkened, pressing down upon him like a physical weight. Saffron blooms crowded his vision, their cheerful yellow now somehow sinister, suffocating.
I am drowning in flowers, he thought with strange detachment. What a peculiar way to die.
June reached him, falling to her knees beside him, her hands fluttering around his face, his shoulders, his chest. "What's wrong? Tell me what to do!"
But he could not answer. Could not move. Could only watch as tears filled her beautiful eyes, spilling over to trace silver paths down her cheeks. She was speaking still, her lips forming his name over and over, but he could hear nothing now except the slowing drum of his own heart.
Thud... thud... thud...
Each beat fainter than the last, the spaces between growing longer, until?—
Silence.
Darkness swallowed him whole, June's terrified face the last thing he saw before the void claimed him entirely.
Dominic sat bolt upright in bed, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat. His nightshirt clung to his skin, soaked through with cold sweat. The darkness of his chamber pressed in around him, broken only by a sliver of moonlight that crept between the curtains.
His hand flew to his chest, feeling the frantic, panicked rhythm beneath his palm. Too fast, too hard—a desperate animal caged within his ribs, battering itself against the bones that imprisoned it.
For a moment, he could not recall where he was. The dream—it had seemed so real. He could still smell the saffron, still see June's face transformed by terror as he collapsed before her.
But he was here, alive, in his bedchamber at Stone's estate. The clock on the mantel ticked steadily, marking the passage of seconds, minutes, hours—each one bringing him closer to what he knew awaited him. What had claimed his father at two and thirty. His grandfather at thirty-five.
The cruel irony was not lost on him: the very proof of his life—this heart hammering away in his chest—felt like a timer. How many beats remained?
Dominic swung his legs over the side of the bed, pressing his bare feet against the cool wooden floor. He would not sleep again tonight. Could not bear to return to that field, to see June's smile transform once more into horror and grief.
It was only a dream,he told himself, rising to pour a glass of water from the pitcher on his washstand. The liquid caught in his throat, nearly choking him before he forced it down.
Only a dream, yes. But also a portent, a shadow creeping closer with each minute that passed.
He moved to the window, drawing back the heavy velvet curtain to stare into the night.
The night air bit at Dominic's skin as he led his stallion from the stables. The massive beast, sensing his master's agitation, tossed its head and stamped one powerful hoof against the cobblestones.
Dominic soothed him with a firm hand along his neck, though there was no gentleness in the touch. Neither of them required tenderness tonight. What they needed was speed, distance, the punishing rhythm of hooves against earth—anything to outpace the shadow of mortality that clung to him like a shroud.
