I’d asked Ms. Poitier and Umberto but received no answers. I’d even resorted to asking the overnight security I saw patrolling the halls. Everyone either flat out ignored me or provided a non-answer.
I sigh. “Sort of ironic that you’d let me sleep in your room, Cael. What use is it if you’re not even here?”
I’m in Caelian’s most private space. I could snoop around if I wanted to. There’s probably information hidden within his drawers or buried in his closet that he wouldn’t want me to find out about. In the past, when I’d first arrived at his estate and was forced to marry him, I probably would’ve seized the opportunity.
Now, I couldn’t feel more differently.
I trust Caelian implicitly… which is why I’m so deeply disturbed by my premonition. It’s not what secrets Caelian could be hiding that concerns me.
It’s what secrets those around us could be that do.
The clock tells me it’s only a few minutes until four. Exactly the time of night when the security cameras were capturing Ms. Poitier sneaking out into the woods.
Now or never.
I snatch my robe off the hook in the closet and slide my feet into the cozy pair of slippers by the bed. Within a few short steps, I’m creeping into the hall and then the staircase. Yet another moment where my skills as a ballerina come in handy.
My movements in the dark are quick and controlled. I’m cognizant of my surroundings at all times, straining my ears forthe slightest noise. I make it to the east wing where the parlor leads into the terrace outside.
Caelian’s house feels like swimming in dark waters. It’s such a large space, the shadows engulf everything, making it feel like wandering an endless void. But I can’t turn on any of the lights or risk giving myself away.
An ancient grandfather clock lines the wall, covered in cobwebs like most of the furniture on this side of the house. Three more minutes until four.
I take cover just in time. As I crouch behind a credenza out of the way in the back corner, a figure appears in the doorway. Short and stout in stature, the figure maneuvers the dark room with practiced precision.
Ms. Poitier.
My hand covers my mouth to stifle any shocked breaths I take.
She cuts through the room to the double doors that open to the terrace. For half a second, I consider confronting her on the spot. Popping out from my hiding spot and flicking on the nearest light to let her know she’s caught red-handed. At the last possible second, I decide against it.
Since I still don’t know what’s going on, it’s best to stay hidden and observe.
When Ms. Poitier makes it far enough out from the terrace that she’s shrinking, I get up and creep over to the door. Despite how dark it is, I track her figure from through the glass, witnessing firsthand how she disappears into the distance.
The woodland surrounds Caelian’s remote property. What could she possibly be doing in the woods so late in the night? Is she meeting someone to provide them information? How could she betray Caelian like this?
Anger rises up inside me on his behalf. It ignites like a hot flame that could turn destructive.
For a second time, I’m tempted to confront her right now, in the moment. I’m no warrior, but I know self-defense. I’m fast and full of energy. I can handle myself if I needed to…
My feet inch forward as if to act on my impulse. Follow Ms. Poitier into the woods and find out what she’s up to.
You can’t. Caelian would be furious. He said stay out of it.
I ball my hands into fists at my sides and breathe through the anger bottled up. Maybe I won’t follow her outside, but I’ll definitely keep track of what she’s doing. If Matteo can launch his investigation, so can I.
A small part of me is still unsure what I’m really seeing.
My dream lurks vaguely at the back of my mind, vivid enough I’m not sure it can even be called a dream. It’d felt so real, it was more like a memory I’d forgotten about.
…maybe because it was…
Just another miserable memory of my time at the dance company. Very few memories I look back on fondly.
Except for performances. Those were always my favorite.
I loved being on stage, showing what I could do. The stories I could tell with my body.
