“Madness clings to ourname. I share my very face with madness, or have you so easily forgotten?”
The wind howled faintly beyond the walls, rattling the panes like distant laughter. I leaned closer, my heart hammering so violently I feared it might give me away.
Their voices hushed further and I slowly pressed my ear to the door. Even then, I could just barely make out broken words.
“… you can’t protect her.”
“… I know what I’m doing…”
“Have you even told her the truth…”
“… you should send her away.”
My heart began to pound loudly in my ears.
Inside the study, the floor creaked softly as though someone turned and paced. Sylum’s voice came again, firmer now, edged in exhaustion.
“Enough, Aunt. I will not discuss this further. Lucy is my wife. That is the end of it.”
There was a pause, a sharp exhale of disapproval, then the rustle of skirts.
I stepped back at once, pressing myself into the shadows and slipping behind the nearest corner just as the latch gave a soft metallic sigh.
Isolde swept past me in a rush of silk and bitterness, her perfume trailing behind like something wilting—sweet at first, then sour beneath, like flowers left to wither in the sun. Her chin was high, her eyes bright and sharp as cut glass even in the dim corridor. I held my breath, willing myselfsmaller, invisible, until the echo of her heels faded down the hall.
Only then did I look back toward the sliver of light coming from under Sylum’s study door.
I couldn’t make myself move toward it.
Nor could I make myself turn away.
Above me, wings burst open with a sudden clap. I flinched violently as Poe swooped from the darkened rafters, a black streak cutting the quiet like a blade.
“Deep into that darkness peering,” he screeched, the words echoing down the corridor, “long I stood there, wondering, fearing!”
“Poe!” I whisper-hissed, darting a frantic glance toward the door. “Quiet!” I waved my arm wildly around the corner, hoping to lure him away before…
The study door opened.
Sylum stepped into the hall, the golden light from the study spilling around him like a halo carved from fire. Our eyes locked—mine wide, his narrowed in suspicion and something else entirely that I hoped was amusement.
He folded his arms slowly over his chest, one dark brow rising in the kind of slow, deliberate arch that told me I was already caught.
Poe swooped once in a proud circle and landed neatly on my shoulder.
The traitorous bird fluffed his wings, his head tilting smugly. “My Lenore,” he breathed in a silken croon.
Sylum’s gaze flicked from Poe to me, a muscle tightening in his jaw.
“Eavesdropping, were you?” he asked, voice low, curious.
Heat flamed up my neck. “I… no, of course not! I was only—”
“Haunting the corridors again?” His tone softened, a thread of teasing woven through reprimand.
I turned a murderous glare on Poe. “Little snitch,” I muttered under my breath.
He gave a smug trill and nuzzled the side of my face like a devil seeking absolution.
