Very rarely did this happen anymore—not since she’d discovered the power of her copper coins. Usually she was more vigilant, preemptively sensing when a ghost was gearing up to attack her and striking her coins. This time, she’d been distracted by the phantom’s captivating anger, and she’d been too late.
St. Silas mustneverlearn how far her ability went, that she could be a channel for the dead. How would he use her then? How many more ways could she become his pawn?
“No,” she rasped, wanting to redirect his thoughts. “I saw a ghost—a fair-haired woman. She…was very angry with you. I think her anger must have overwhelmed me.” Leena touched her own forehead. “She wanted to choke you.”
It was the second time since stepping onto Avon land that a ghost had been obsessed with the Saint of Silence. And yet it was more elusive than ever how St. Silas held secrets over both the livingandthe dead.
Leena looked around, her eyes once more roving the room in search of the ghost.
Why?Why was Moira so violently angry at St. Silas?
He didn’t look the least disturbed. “Well, evidently she didn’t succeed.”
“Her name was Moira,” Leena pressed.
St. Silas looked sharply at her. “How do you know her name? I thought you said you cannot hear ghosts speak.”
Leena’s heart pounded in her chest. “I-I saw her name written on a locket she was wearing. I assumed it was hers.”
St. Silas looked entirely disbelieving.
Leena scrambled to control the conversation once more. “Well, do you know her?”
He straightened. “There are many waiting in line to wring my neck, madam. Must I be expected to recall all of them?”
“But do you knowher?”
St. Silas furrowed his brow in thought, then finally shook his head. It was always difficult to read St. Silas, and as always she could not be certain he was speaking the truth.
Leena rose tentatively, smoothing her crumpled skirts. She knew her hair was in disarray, but there was no looking glass with which to tidy it, so she swept a hurried hand across her escaped ringlets.
What was taking Rami so long? Leena desperately wanted to find her room, lie down, and sleep dreamlessly. Her head was throbbing in excruciating pain.
“What would’ve happened if your brother hadn’t handed me the copper coins to strike together?” St. Silas walked toward the door, opening it slightly, but refusing to let her leave.
Leena tensed, not meeting his gaze.
“And what of the humming?” He would not be deterred.
“Can you step aside, Mr. St. Silas? I am very weary and would like to lie down now.”
“And if you’d been alone, madam?” There was an edge to his tone that she could not understand and she was too tired to try.
“Nothing would’ve happened.” She sighed, struggling to keep standing straight when her entire equilibrium was in chaos. She didn’t appreciate him attempting to drag out her secrets when he held so tightly to his own.
After a moment he stepped aside curtly and let her pass. At first she wasn’t sure if he was following her down the corridor or had stayed behind in the study, but his footsteps finally sounded on the hard marble floor behind her.
She needed to find a servant,anyone,to lead her to her room before she collapsed.
“Do not go searching for ghosts on your own anymore.”
She halted and turned to look at him in astonishment; there was a rigidity to his jaw that amazed her.
“What do you mean? I’m always alone with ghosts.”
“Then come seekme.” He took a step closer to her, the intensityof his gaze jarringly akin to what Moira had seen when she looked at Percival Avon.
“Come seek you…?” For a moment Leena was not sure if it was Moira’s voice or her own that had spoken. “Why?”
