As for me… Well, there isn’t any other option.
Even with the chance of being caught or killed looming over my head, I know getting far, far away from Greystone Manor is the once chance I have at living. I don’t know when I am to do it or how, but one thing’s for sure—this time, when I make a run for it, I’m never coming back.
Chapter 4
Avrum
Lysander takes a sip of his drink and leans back into the russet armchair. “Sit, Avrum, relax yourself,” he says with a content sigh.
Shrugging, I don’t move from my place by the library’s tall windows. My chest feels tight, my vision blurry. Even though she has no reason to be, Haven remains firmly implanted in my mind. I can’t help but feel like there’s more to her I’m not seeing. Something I need to know.
But what?
I don’t understand this strange pull I have to her. It’s confusing and honestly, a bit unsettling. At first, I’d thought it was the bloodlust, but I’ve interacted with many human servants before and never experienced anything like what happened between us in the foyer. Or this constant need to know if she’s okay.
It’s like she’s silently calling to me. Asking me for help. Why? I simply don’t know.
As I continue to stare out onto the manor’s courtyard and the black-water lake, I resee Haven standing outsidethe window with her forehead pressed against the building’s face, trying not to cry. I had felt her grief last night as if it were my own, and for the first time, I wondered if I was even doing the right thing by bringing her back to Greystone.
“Would you do anything, give anything, to see them again?”Haven had said to me as we walked back in the wind and rain.
If my family was still alive and I was told I couldn’t see them again, would I ignore Henri’s rules, too? Was it easier for me to dismiss her grief because I have no one else besides those in this place?
“Come away from the window,” Lysander says, this time with more aggravation in his tone. “The curtains will have to be drawn soon enough for dawn.”
Ripping myself away, I sigh. My gaze travels around the room instead. Two tiers of shelves wrap around the walls, filled with books of every size and length. A quaint brass chandelier hangs in the center, illuminating a set of armchairs and tables underneath, as well as the very bored face of my friend as he waits for me to join him in his drinking.
Lysander finishes his glass of scotch and places it on the side table next to my still untouched one.
“If you do not sit and have this drink, I’m going to have to take it from you,” he muses.
“Scotch isn’t a very French drink,” I say, as I watch him trace the rim with the tip of his long finger.
“Well, I’m no longer in France, now am I?”
I try to laugh, but my mind is still elsewhere. It comes out too fake sounding.
“Well? Will you have your drink or not?”
I glance at the windows again.
Grunting, Lysander pushes himself to his feet and comes to my side. “What is just so fascinating out there?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? You’ve been staring outside for an hour now.”
Again, my thoughts slide away from me. Now, I’m thinking about the maid I’d asked to check on Haven. She hasn’t returned with any news for me. That has to mean everything is fine. Right?
Lysander claps his hands loudly in front of my face, jolting me back.
“Ah-ha!” he cries. “I know what has claimed your attention out there.”
I hesitate. “Oh?”
“You are looking for her, aren’t you? That little pet of Henri’s.”
I give a short, dismissive laugh. “Haven? No. What would make you think such a thing?”
