“Yes, mistress.”
Her plate was set before her, her glass filled with wine, and after Mina murmured her thanks, Sofia moved to the corner of the room, facing out as though in a line of servants.
Mina was surprised to find herself hungry once she started eating. The fire crackled in the distant hearth, and Sofia remained so quiet that Mina had to glance over her shoulder to ensure the woman had not slipped away.
More than once, Mina tried to make conversation—she asked about the castle, about Sofia’s life beyond her duties—but each attempt met a polite, impenetrable reserve. Whether the woman was simply professional or quietly irritated by Mina’s attempts at familiarity, Mina could not tell. As she sipped her wine, she found herself wondering how many evenings she would spend here, in this very chair, eating alone.
Her eyes prickled with tears, and she swallowed hard.
In London, Mina had often enjoyed solitude—but this was different. Perhaps it was only unfamiliarity, the weight of stone walls and cavernous rooms, but the thought of this being her life now, without meaningful company, made her chest ache. In London, there had been promise. Purpose. She had shapedyoung minds, helped children who would carry that knowledge forward.
And now—who was she helping? Not the children. Not Lucy. And seemingly, not Sofia.
Then she thought of Aunt Emily. Of the woman who had sacrificed so much after her mother’s death, stepping in where Mina’s father had failed. Mina was not the first woman to live a life she had not chosen. It was simply her turn. And she would not indulge herself in pity.
“Are you finished eating, mistress?”
Mina looked up, startled to realize she had been staring at her plate, lost in thought.
“Yes,” she said softly. “Thank you. I think I’m just a bit tired.”
“I can escort you back to your chambers now, mistress.”
Mina nodded, her appetite gone. “Thank you.”
She followed Sofia through the corridors, no longer bothering to remember the way. A dull indifference settled over her, like mist clinging to the castle grounds, and she lacked the energy to shake it.
After Sofia delivered her to her chamber and wished her goodnight, Mina surveyed the room for what felt like the hundredth time. The sun had set, yet the moon had not yet risen. Grey stone surrounded her on all sides, enclosing her in silence. The resemblance to a prison cell was unmistakable—only larger, and far more luxurious. Yet the sense of endless confinement was all the same.
A sudden sound came from the hall, and Mina froze, listening intently. Her thoughts leapt back to the night before—the whispers in the corridor, the voices that had seemed to breathe her name.
She flinched when a firm knock cut through the quiet. For a moment, she did nothing at all. Surely this wasn’t Sofia, but who else would be at her door at this late hour?
“Wilhelmina?”
Recognition dawned, and warmth crept into her cheeks.
“Yes?” she called, still making no move to open the door.
“It’s the Count,” came the reply from the other side of the wood. Then, as if she required clarification, “Your husband.”
Despite herself, she nearly smiled.
Mina crossed the room and eased the door open. He stood in the shadows, unaccompanied by any lantern. As she opened it wider, firelight spilled into the hall, revealing a folded mound of dark fabric draped over his arm.
“Is it customary for you to sleep in your day clothes?” he asked. She looked down at her black dress, then back at him, finding a glint in his eyes that told her he knew very well she hadn’t been sleeping.
“What do you mean?” she asked, playing along. “Thisismy nightdress.”
His gaze trailed down her form, and she resisted the instinct to retreat from it. “Hmm. Well, I suppose you wouldn’t care to join me for a walk, then?”
She frowned slightly, glancing over her shoulder toward the window before meeting his gaze again. “At this hour?”
The corner of his mouth curved. “Do you fear the moonlight, Wilhelmina?” She paused at the sound of her full nameon his lips once more. He leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a confidence meant only for her. “Or is it my company that unsettles you?”
She tilted her head. “Should I be unsettled by your company, Count?”
He extended his hand—an invitation into the unknown. “Join me and see for yourself.”
