His eyes searched mine, sharp and assessing. “You’ve gone pale.”
I shook my head, the room teetering slightly. The warmth that had filled my chest now burned oddly, spreading into my throat and behind my eyes. “I think… I’ve had too much wine.”
He hesitated, his expression unreadable. “You’re certain?”
“Quite,” I lied, pressing my fingers to my temple. “Just a touch lightheaded.”
For a moment he said nothing. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, the concerned tension in his stillness. Then, slowly, he rose from his chair and came to stand beside me.
“Lucy,” he said, his voice that same gentle note I’d always remembered. He reached out and drew me into his arms. I could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath his waistcoat, the scent of cedar and candle smoke clinging to him.
He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of my head. “You need to rest tonight.”
I nodded against his chest, the motion making the room tilt again. “Yes,” I whispered, though words suddenly felt strange in my mouth.
He drew back enough to meet my eyes, a faint crease between his brows. “I’ll send Nelly to help you prepare for bed.”
The fire popped,and I flinched at the sound.
Sylum gave me one last searching look, as if he wanted to say more but thought better of it. Then he released me, the warmth of him fading as he stepped away.
“I’ll come by later,” he promised, his tone softening. “Sleep, Lucy. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
When the doors closed behind him, I turned slowly back toward the window.
The rain still fell in sheets across the terrace, the glass quivering with the weight of it. But just as I started to turn away, lightning split the sky—white and blinding—and for the briefest instant, I saw it again.
A pale face at the glass, staring back at me.
Chapter 6
I could not sleep.
The only light in my bedchamber came from the moon, thin and wan, spilling through the parted drapes like a ghostly hand reaching across the floor.
I lay beneath the coverlet, still as death, though my mind refused to rest. My thoughts bloomed like ivy, creeping into every dark corner, tightening their coils until I could scarcely breathe.
After I’d retreated to my room, Nelly brought up tea before brushing out my hair and helping me into my nightgown. The steam had smelled faintly of lavender and chamomile.
Whatever I had seen in the dining room window was perhaps further proof that something inside me was breakingjust as it had in my mother.
Perhaps, I thought miserably, this was how my mother’s madness began. A trick of the eye, a breath in the dark… a single moment when the border between sanity and nightmare thinned until one could no longer decipher reality from fantasy.
I wasn’t tired. I wasn’t stressed. I was newly married, finally safe, and yet my mind, faithless thing that it was, would not leave me in peace.
Sylum hadn’t come to my chamber. Perhaps he believed my story about the wine and assumed I’d fallen asleep. I wished he had come. Perhaps then I wouldn’t have felt quite so restless. Quite so afraid and alone in the strange place that was now my home.
I needed air. Or movement. Or something.
Slipping from the bed, I padded barefoot across the cold floor and pulled open the door. The corridor beyond was drenched in moonlight, long ribbons of silver crawling across the floor.
I moved quietly, my nightgown trailing along the floorboards as I walked. I didn’t know where I was going. I only knew I had to keep moving, as though I could outpace the thoughts that chased me.
The halls twisted endlessly. At times, I could almost feel the house bending around me, turning me back upon myself like a maze built by unseen hands.
Eventually, I found myself in a corridor I didn’t recognize. The ceilings here were lower, the air colder, thewalls rougher—older than the rest of the manor, untouched by polish or paint. Forgotten.
Nothing about Blackthorn was unkempt. It was obvious that Mrs. Ashby saw to that with almost religious devotion. And yet… something beneath all her care felt deeply wrong, as though the house itself were simply too determinedly dark.
