“I hope so,” I murmured.
When she left, closing the door with a gentle click, silence flooded in. I crossed to the fire, clutching my robe closer around me. The silk clung to my damp skin, hugging my curves with every movement.
I sipped the tea.
It was sweet. Almost too sweet. Honey lingered on my tongue, thick and floral, and warmth unfurled in my chest like a slow-burning ember. With each sip my thoughts grew softer, blurred at the edges like slipping into a dream.
I told myself I would wait. I wanted to be awake when Sylum came. I wanted to remember the way his voice softened when he said my name. But the warmth was so heavy that my limbs sank into it like sand.
As soon as I laid down, the plush mattress hugged me so lovingly that my eyes drifted closed. I felt myself slipping, softly, gently, into sleep.
I wasn’t sure when I’d fallen asleep, only that I was no longer alone in my mind.
A faint click pulled me back, the delicate turn of a latch.
My eyes opened, heavy as stone. The ceiling swayed gently above me. The fire had burned low, nothing left but embers breathing faint light into the dark.
Footsteps. Slow and measured, booted softly against the floorboards.
I tried to move, but my limbs were leaden. The tea still sang through my blood, thick and honey-warm.
A figure passed near the hearth.
Closer.
My heart quickened even as my body refused to rouse. Then came a voice, velvety and familiar.
“Lucy,” he murmured.
Relief flooded me. “Sylum…”
He crossed the room with slow, deliberate grace. The faint light caught his features, the same dark hair, the same mouth I had dreamed of far too many nights.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said. “I missed you.”
I blinked. The words didn’t sound quite right. Too forced. Too eager.
He sat on the edge of the bed, fingers brushing the covers like a man handling something sacred. His touch found my cheek, tracing the curve of my jaw.
“What took you so long?” I breathed, the words sticky on my tongue.
He smiled, crooked and secretive. “Desperate formy touch, my little Duchess?”
Something deep inside of me sang with alarm, but I couldn’t figure out why.
Little Duchess…
My mouth opened, but words snagged at the back of my throat.
He bent close until his breath stirred the loose curls near my ear. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you like this?” The scent of him was different. It was sharper somehow, touched with dampness and something metallic beneath.
Still, when his lips brushed my throat, my body responded as though it knew him. Heat unfurled in my veins. I wanted to believe. I wanted to forget the unease curling at the edges of my thoughts.
He kissed my collarbone, his voice dark and reverent. “Soft and quiet, and warm… you were made for me.”
My breath caught. “Why are you saying these things?”
He lifted his head, eyes glinting black in the half-light. “Because I can’t hold back anymore, Lucy. Not now that you’re mine.”
