Jayla adjusts her afro puffs, smoothing a few stray coils beside her cat-eye glasses. She blinks eyes traced in gold winged liner. She chats with Demetri, who sits beside her in a sharp gray suit, before she rises from her chair. The gold-trimmed A-line dress Jayla is wearing is made of a soft lavender fabric that shimmers in different shades of purple as she approaches.
“Emma,” she says finally, her voice soft but urgent. “Can we talk outside?”
Malcolm gives her a crooked smile, like he’s excited that she wants to talk to me. I stand, smoothing the cascading folds of my champagne-colored satin gown. The sequins across my bodice glimmer like scattered stars, reflecting the soft light of the chandeliers above.
“Of course,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the knot tightening in my chest. I look at Malcolm warmly and mouth,Be right back.
Our heels click against the polished marble floor as I lead her through the grand hallway. The mirrors lining the walls reflect restless, flickering light from the gas sconces. Between the mirrors hang stern-faced portraits of my ancestors, their painted eyes watching us pass. The air feels heavy here, the sound of music echoing through the house.
The moment we step onto the porch, the summer night wraps around us, warm and thick. The mansion’s gleaming columns and ornate iron lace porches are bathed in the faint glow of ground torches. A breeze stirs the bows tied along the hedges, but the yard beyond is quiet as a fog rolls in low through the grass.
Jayla leans against the railing, her fingers twisting a coil of her afro puffs tight. She doesn’t look at me right away. Instead, her gaze paints the yard like she’s searching for something—or someone.
“Thanks for coming out here with me,” she says quietly.
“Of course.” I watch her, the soft light dancing on her beautiful doll-like face and highlighting the gold shimmer of her winged eyeliner. “Is something wrong?”
She shakes her head. “No. It’s just…” Her fingers are still on the railing. “Lady Lauryn of the Hill always warned us about people who use others’kindness as their ammunition. But you’re not like that. I was wrong about you. I’m sorry.”
Her apology catches me off guard. “It’s okay,” I say quickly. Her words make my chest warm in a way I wasn’t expecting.
Jayla sighs, gripping the railing tighter. “Emma, I’m protective of my brother because I already lost one. And Malcolm? He’s my day one. Nah, my before day one. My womb mate. My twin means everything to me.” Her voice trembles slightly, and she swallows hard before adding, “I love my family real deep. So if you really love Malcolm—and if my brother loves you enough to sacrifice everything for you—I’ll tolerate you.”
I giggle. Her words are soft and steadying, even if they hold a sharp edge. A playful smirk crosses her face, but there’s sincerity under it.
“It’ll be nice to get to know you,” she adds, stepping closer. “Maybe gain another sister.”
Tears swell in my eyes, and I nod, my voice shaking. “Thanks. That… that means a lot, Jayla.”
She hugs me tightly, knocking the air out of my lungs. “Thanks for saving Malcolm,” she whispers into my ear. “I don’t know how I’d live without his stupid face irritating me at the dinner table.” She steps back, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry about the whole ‘threatening to kill you’ thing.”
I smirk. “Sorry about the whole ‘killing Malcolm’ thing.”
She makes a frowny face.
“What? Too soon?” I shrug.
Jayla rolls her eyes but chuckles softly, shaking her head.
The sound of laughter fades as I glance toward the yard again. The sky is dark like a storm’s comin’. The bodyguards Grandmère usually stations to patrol near the carport are missing. My stomach clenches.
“Where are Grandmère’s guards?” I ask, thinking out loud, as she steps back.
Jayla shrugs. “Don’t worry. Sabine’s dead. The threat’s gone. They’re probably patrolling somewhere else, or maybe your gran sent them home now that we’re not at war.”
I nod, trying to convince myself that she’s right. For the first time in ages, things should be okay.
Then, a clock chimes.
The sound is low but cuts through the stillness. Each chime echoes through my chest like a warning bell. I freeze, my gaze snapping to the hallway window behind us, and I spot a towering frame that wasn’t there before. A grandfather clock looms against the far wall, dark wood carved with intricate glowing gold runes. As the entire clock begins to glow, my breath hitches. Its hands begin to spin backward, faster and faster. The ticking grows louder, pounding in my ears.
“Oh my God! It must be—”
Jayla stiffens beside me. “What the hell?” she mutters, covering her ears and staring at the clock. “Is it always that loud?”
I shake my head, my heart pounding. “It wasn’t there…”
The lantern above us sways violently as a gust of wind rushes across the porch. The ground torches flicker and dim. A sound rises from the darkness of the yard—wings.
