My body went cold.
It was him. The strong line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, the familiar way he moved—I would recognize him even if I hadn’t seen his face so clearly.
He said something then, something I couldn’t hear, and the woman lifted her hand to touch his cheek. I couldn’t see her face, but I didn’t need to. There was only one person in this manor with silky golden hair.
Lydia.
Then, as if he felt my gaze, his head turned slowly toward the window.
Our eyes met across the distance for one brief moment.
I stumbled back from the window, my hand slipping from the sill. My knees struck the cold floor. A sob tore from my throat before I could stop it.
The room spun. My vision blurred. The air itself seemed to pulse around me.
It isn’t real, I told myself. It can’t be real.
But the image of him kissing her burned itself behind my eyelids, unrelenting.
I pressed my forehead to my knees and wept until my breath came in shallow gasps. I couldn’t say how long I sat there, crying until it felt my soul might leave me, before something caught my attention.
Click.
The faint creak of a door cut through the fog of my panic. A ribbon of amber light spilled across the floorboardsfrom the adjoining chamber, dancing ripples across the hem of my nightgown.
“Lucy?”
I jerked upright, eyes wild, chest heaving. Sylum stood in the doorway, barefoot and robe-clad, his dark hair tousled by sleep, his brow furrowed in alarm. He looked like a man shaken from a dream.
“What happened?” he asked, crossing the threshold in two swift strides.
Then he was on his knees beside me, pulling me into his arms before I could think to resist. I stiffened, but the warmth of him was a cruel comfort and I found myself relaxing into it.
”Tell me what’s wrong,” he said against the top of my head.
I trembled in his embrace, my breath catching like a snare in my throat. “You…” My voice broke. “Where were you just now?”
He blinked, confusion darkening his eyes. “In my room,” he replied slowly. “I was asleep. I heard you cry out.”
I pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, searching for the lie. But there was no tremble of deceit in them, only concern.
“But I saw you,” I whispered. “Kissing Lydia in the garden.” My chest ached as the truth—mytruth—poured from my lips, raw and desperate.
He cupped my face gently, his thumb brushing away a tear. “Whatever you saw, Lucy… it wasn’t real.”
“Two shadows. One bone,” Poe mumbled from the bedside table
My pulse stuttered, dread curling through my stomach. I turned to look at the bird, his black eyes meeting mine, his head tilting slightly as if trying to tell me something important.
Sylum drew me close again, ignoring the raven entirely. “You’re not well,” he murmured. “Something is happening to you, and I don’t know what it is. But, I swear to you, I was in my room.”
His voice wrapped around me, soothing and steady, but my mind recoiled. The vision in the garden hadn’t faded. Our eyes had met in the dark. Iknewwhat I saw.
My body tensed. The trust I’d clung to splintered. He was lying to me.
I tore away from him, scrambling backward, my heart galloping in my throat.
Sylum’s eyes widened with hurt and confusion, but he didn’t pursue. Instead, he raised one hand slowly, as if to calm a spooked horse. “Lucy?”
