And now this.
The charm… wasn’t just jewelry.
It was a message.
Or a warning.
Philip turned to me, eyes wide with confusion and something that looked like fear. “Where did this come from?” he asked, holding up the tiny dagger pendant.
“It was my mother’s,” I said smoothly, though my eyes refused to meet his. “I slipped it around her neck after she was born. My mother would’ve adored her.” I added, softer, “God rest her soul.”
Philip stared at me for a long moment. Then back to the baby.
“But it wasn’t there before,” he said. “When I picked her up right now—I swear—it wasn’t there.”
“You were probably just taken in by her face.” I forced a wide and gentle smile, pushing every ounce of performance into it. “She’s captivating.”
Philip didn’t smile back. His frown lingered, deepening as he looked between me and the child. But he said nothing more.
Inside, my mind screamed.
He knows.
Or worse—Balthazar knows.Knows where I am. Knows the baby has been born. Knowseverything.
The charm… was proof. A declaration. A stake in the ground.
I needed to disappear.
I needed to run.
The next full moon was weeks away. Too long.Too dangerous.
I couldn’t wait. I had to go now. Somewhere. Anywhere.
Before he came.
“What should we name her?” Philip asked brightly, unaware I was panicking
“You name her,” I said, barely holding my composure. My voice came out brittle. Hollow.
He looked down at the infant in his arms, studying her for a long moment before the name finally left his lips.
“Emily,” he said, smiling. “We’ll call her Emily.”
He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb, utterly transfixed by her.
“Perfect,” I said, the word like ash on my tongue.
Perfectly damning.
Perfectly cursed.
A name I would carry like a knife beneath my ribs—for the rest of my life.
Several days had passed since Emily’s birth, yet I still couldn’t soothe her. No matter how tightly I held her, how softly I whispered or rocked her through the long, sleepless nights, her cries never ceased.
And I knew why.
