“Do you remember what you said to me the day you died?”
Her face softens, and she sighs. “How could I forget?”
The air between us releases, like it is being pressed from trapped space. My ribs release a breath, and I step forward. There are tears in my eyes now, hot when they slip down my cheeks.
“Say it. Please.”
Her hand wraps around me, and even though it is cold, it feels familiar. “Chase Death, my dearest. That way, he will never catch you.”
I fall against her, every inch of my body loosening. We hold each other there, sinking to the floor while our chests rise and fall in sobs. I cry until my lungs burn, until the salt water clings to my cheeks. When I finally do pull away, Mother is smiling. Each tooth so white it shines like ivory.
“You must be exhausted after your travels.” She tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I can have someone take you up to a room, draw you a bath. Would you like that?”
All I can think about is warm water running over my body, thawing the frost, cleaning the muck from my ankles. I should ask after Ransom, but the pressure of his body against mine is still too raw and real, so I push him away and nod.
“I would give anything for a bath.”
Mother throws her head back, a laugh like lilting birds filling the air. Behind us, at the table, the men and women mirror her, their heads tipping toward the ceiling, a symphony of glee. I smile and look to Bram.
But he is not grinning. His eyes are fixed on those seated, on each of their laughing, lolling tongues. I frown and turn back to Mother.
“Can a room be cleared for Bram as well? He is the one who helped me find you.”
Mother flicks her gaze to him. For a moment, there is something behind her eyes, an emotion I cannot make out. A flash of something akin to recognition. But then she softens, turns to spun sugar.
“Of course he can,” she says, voice butter smooth. “Your friend is welcome to stay as long as he needs.”
I look to Bram, but he seems to stare right through me. His lips quirk in a forced smile, and he inclines his head.
“Thank you, my lady.” His eyes slide back up to look at her. “You are, in fact, the lady of this castle, are you not? There is something oddly familiar about you.”
Tension fills the air, a stone dropped into a glass of water. My mother’s face tightens, skin stretching over bones, and I notice death there for the first time. A graying pallor to her cheeks, sunken hollows. A mask of sorts.
And then it is gone, replaced by a brilliant smile. “I am. And you are the Avery boy, are you not? Died of unknown causes, isn’t that right?”
Bram squares his jaw. “I believe there is someone who knows the cause.”
My skin prickles. The silence between them sits too long, thickening with each breath. Bram holds my mother’s gaze, challenging her, looking for a fight. I reach for his hand and look between them. Wolves in the night. And then I think of Rascal.
“Where is my dog?”
Mother’s blue eyes catch my own. “What, the hellhound? You’ve not made him your pet, have you?”
“He’s Bram’s, actually,” I say. “But can he not stay in my rooms with me?”
There is silence, only the guttering of candle flame. My heart is a hammer and anvil. It clangs against my ribcage like a stuck bird. There is a giggle from one of the ladies at the table, and my stomach turns.
“That’s enough.” Mother’s voice cuts the air like a knife. “I will see your pet is sent to your rooms, Adelaide.” Her arm comes around me, heavy as a paperweight. “But you must rest now. I will come find you before the party, and we will talk.” Her hand clamps around mine, spins me so I am facing her. “We have so much to catch up on.”
I want to tell her to wait, to stop. What party? Aren’t I supposed to findher and bring her back? Back home to Rixton with Father? Back home so I can know love once more? But she is already pushing me toward another door, already waving over a woman in black.
“Take these two to the rooms in the eastern wing, Istelle. And make sure the Haunts release the hellhound. Though, have care with the beast. We don’t want him tracking in…refuse.”
The voice is so unlike my mother’s, I try to turn back, but Istelle’s hand is steadily pressing between my shoulder blades, forcing me out the door. Bram says nothing, just grabs my wrist, pulling me behind him. We follow the woman in black from the room, out into dim light. The last thing I see of my mother is the door closing on her pale face.
In the sallow light, her skin looks like cracked porcelain.
When I pull myself from the bath water, I notice a slip of paper on the bed that was not there before. I reach for a towel, wrap it around my body, and cross to the bed. It seems wrong, this room. Out of place. The bed all delicately carved wood and white duvets. Lace pillowcases and a linen pouch of something that smells of lavender, tucked between the sheets.
