The voice chased me through the darkness, luring me from the depths and echoing against the inside of my skull. Pain flared white-hot behind my eyes, sharp and tearing.
Another voice—the next one real, warm, heartbreakingly human—broke through the fog.
“Lenore? Love? Can you hear me?”
My eyes fluttered open, assaulted by a wash of golden light. There were murmured voices, the rustle of fabric, and the soft snap of curtains being drawn shut until only a muted glow remained.
I blinked against the haze, faces blurring above me. Panic climbed my throat.
“W-what… where am I?”
The memories surged back like a cold tide. Julien’s chilling smile, Nelly’s golden hair peeking from a wig, thesyringe plunging into my arm, the cliffs, the shot—oh God, the shot…
I lurched upright with a hoarse cry.
“Sylum! Where’s Sylum? His brother—they’re twins—he tricked me—I didn’t mean to—I shot him—I shot—”
Tears streamed down my cheeks, choking my words.
Strong arms came around me suddenly. The scent that enveloped me was warm cedar, crushed roses, and the familiar breath of the man I loved.
“Shhh,” he murmured into my hair, his voice trembling with the effort to stay calm. “You’re alright.”
Through the blur, I looked up intoSylum’sface. His hand stroked my back gently.
No… no… not Sylum… Julien.
I shoved against him in blind terror, stumbling away as my feet hit the floor. “No! You’re not Sylum! He’s dead! I saw… I killed…”
The room steadied in a ring of faces. Mrs. Ashby hovered with her hands clasped to her chest, eyes glossy with worry. Nelly alive and whole, stepped forward timidly, pale as linen.
“Your Grace? Are you alright?”
I shook my head violently, pointing a shaking finger at Nelly. “No… no, this isn’t possible. You died,” I whispered hoarsely. “I saw you die!”
Nelly froze, her brows knitting in bewilderment. Mrs. Ashby placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.
“Lenore,” Sylum said behind me, his voice patient and soothing. “No one has died. You had a terrible accident.”
“My name is Lucy!” I snapped, turning on him. “And you are Julien! You’re lying! Y-youarenotmy husband!”
I turned to Mrs. Ashby, pleading. “Please… You must believe me! You know they’re twins. You’ve been with the family since they were boys! Julien escaped the asylum and pretended to be Sylum!”
I pointed to the man pretending to be my husband. “That’s not Sylum! That’s Julien, and he killed him… I killed him…”
I broke into a sob, stumbling back, desperate to get away from the imposter.
Mrs. Ashby caught my hand, her eyes soft but firm. “Lord Blackthorn doesn’t have a brother, Your Grace,” she assured. “He only has a sister. Miss Lydia. Don’t you remember?”
I shook my head frantically. “No! Lydia died and…” I stared at Nelly then, my voice nearly hysterical. “And she’s working with Julien! They killed her!”
Mrs. Ashby’s expression gentled with deep concern. “Miss Lydia is very much alive, Your Grace. Nelly hasn’t killed anyone. She’s been your maid for two years.”
No. This couldn’t be real.
I shook my head slowly, staring at the faces surrounding me.
“Lenore?” Sylum rose, reaching for me slowly. “You’ve woken up a bit confused, that’s all. You fell fromyour horse. We found you on the moors and you’ve been unconscious since. You hit your head, sweetheart.”
