She hadn’t remembered drawing them.
She hadn’t remembered climbing into bed to start.
It was dark, too, in the remainder of the bedchamber. The fire had guttered, leaving only blood-red coals, and the moon had vanished. Thick clouds must have gathered at some point in the night. Lux glanced down at her nightgown, picking at the silky material. Goosebumps littered her arms—the garment was thinner than anything she’d ever worn—and she searched for a robe. Her steps led her through the bedroom, the bath, and into the dressing room, but she found nothing.
Empty.Empty. Empty.
She returned to stand in the center of the room when she heard it. A soft wail. It seeped underneath the door. Her stare narrowed on the wood.
It tremored once, and then she was there, standing in front of it. Lux twisted the lock. The click reverberated throughout the room. She carefully turned the knob, and when the door creaked open, she fitted her eye to the crack and peered out.
A stray cloud had entered Mothlock. The entirety of the corridor was grey with fog and the lamplight had dimmed.
Inside it, a figure moved.
A woman. With ebony locks loose down her back and a nightgown the replica of Lux’s own. Lux caught her breath. The wail came again, louder this time, even as the woman was farther away. Lux could see the glisten of tears on her cheekswhen she turned to face a black door. It was odd, she thought, that they looked so much alike. Odder still that another girl came to be here, crying in the corridor, not more than two doors down—
The door swung open. A pale hand stretched from the dark. It grasped hold of the girl’s wrist—and hauled her in.
The resulting scream froze the very blood in Lux’s veins. She tumbled out into the hall.
In her hand was the gallow blade—she didn’t remember grabbing it—and she was immensely thankful. She sprinted toward the door only to stumble and choke at its stoop. Death poured over her, soaking into her pores. The silence that followed was absolute.
“Too late,”whispered a voice, and though Lux still clutched a knife, she clutched at her head too.
9,read the door. She reached and traced the curve of it. Her finger only just met the number’s end when it was drawn away from her. Lux stumbled back.
Corvin filled the frame.
Though it wasn’t him. Not exactly. Because instead of a collector’s robe, he wore the black trousers and shirt same as when she’d first met him. And his hands—they were ungloved. Pale and elegant, he stretched his fingers toward her. The room behind him was black as midnight, but the lamp lit his eyes. A murky grey. A mark of the twisted revived.
“Welcome home, Vesperine Grimrook.”
The walls began to throb. A tempo that first matched her heartbeat before exceeding it. And Corvin’s hand cupped her cheek. It was cold; it burned like ice. His fingers gripped the base of her skull and only then did his thumb caress her, running along the fullness of her bottom lip. He dragged her to him. When he smiled, his teeth dripped, a red and silver mix.
“Little doll. Don’t you want to stay?”
Lux jolted out of the vivid nightmare, her head cracking against stone. She cried out, cradling her skull, only to have another pair of hands claim that space. She blinked her eyes slowly open. To her darkened bedchamber. Her fireplace, the coals red and warm. To Shaw kneeling beside her, his nightshirt loose and open at his throat and his hair a mess.
She tried to orient herself but couldn’t. Not until Shaw said, “Did you have a nightmare? I didn’t even hear you climb out of bed.”
Lux crashed back to the present. Her back was propped against stone and her head pounded. She glanced to her right to find the door, closed and locked, and her stockinged feet tucked back into the folds of her thick nightgown. “He wasn’t real,” she whispered. Only, her instinct rejected that line of thinking immediately. Hot then cold, a sickness in her gut—her mind had granted her a warning in the most horrifying way imaginable.
Careful hands worked the sweat-drenched hair from her brow. A bandaged thumb scratched her skin. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
Shaw scooped her up before she could form a reply, cradling her to him. He came to stand beside the bedframe and laid her gently down. “Do you need something to drink?”
Lux cleared her throat. “There’s a pitcher of water—”
“I know where, love.” He made for the table, and she watched him in the dim, red light.
“You need to go back to your room before they find you gone,” she said.
He returned with a cup in hand. His glance strayed beyond the curtains, to the shut balcony door. “I can stay awhile yet.”
His voice was gravel-rough from sleep, and Lux didn’t protest when he climbed over her, settling himself against her back. She managed a single swallow from the cup before she had to set it down. She turned into his chest.
Her nose settled against the hollow of his throat. She drew a long breath.
