Isolde flailed as she spun clumsily in place. “Get it off! Mrs. Ashby! Do something!”
Mrs. Ashby ducked her head protectively over me as Poe continued his righteous assault, feathers and hair, and indignation flying in every direction.
The door burst open.
“Lucy!”
Sylum.
He strode into the chaos like a storm, coat unbuttoned, eyes wild as they took in the wreckage. His gaze landed on the Dowager still fending off Poe, then locked onto me, crumpled on the floor, trembling in Mrs. Ashby’s arms.
“Get him off me!” Isolde shrieked, her composure unraveling in curls of disheveled hair and smudged rouge.
“Call him off,” Mrs. Ashby hissed through her teeth.
“Poe! Enough!” His voice was surprisingly calm.
With a disdainful croak, the raven abandoned the Dowager and fluttered to the mantle, feathers puffed in victory.
Sylum crossed the room in quick strides. He knelt beside me, his voice strained with concern, one hand brushing back the tangled curls from my damp forehead.
“Lucy… what happened?”
“I—” My voice broke. “I thought I saw…”
I trailed off, unable to say it aloud. The flies. Isolde’s face. The spiders. Elizabeth.
How could I tell him the truth? I met his eyes, searching mine with that all too familiar look of concern and pity.
What would he do if I told him? Would he think I was losing my sanity just as my mother had? Would he send me away too?
Mrs. Ashby cleared her throat. “She had a… moment. She’ll recover.”
“A moment? Your wife is completely mad just like her mother!” Isolde snapped, straightening her crushed gown. “I told you not to marry her!”
But Sylum didn’t even look at her.
His eyes remained on me. His voice, low and steady, cut through the lingering fear. “Lucy, are you alright?”
I blinked up at him, trembling. “Yes… I think so.”
“Sylum!” Isolde shrieked, stomping her slippered foot. “Do something this instant!”
His jaw tensed.
“I intend to,” he retorted sharply, rising to his feet as he glared at her.
“Pardon?” the Dowager huffed.
“She’s unwell. She needs rest. We’re leaving. Now.”
Isolde sputtered, but Sylum didn’t wait for a reply. He scooped me up with effortless strength, one arm beneath my knees, the other around my back.
“I can walk,” I murmured, humiliated.
“I know,” he offered softly. “But I wish to carry you.”
Poe trailed behind like a shadow, his head tilted, his beady eyes watching everything.
