I break into a smile. The grin stays on my face until sleep drags me under.
When I wake up the next morning, the first thing I do is check on Chelsea.
Do you think her hair is fanned out around her head, her eyes closed? Will you kiss her awake?
But I don’t do any of that because when I knock on the doorframe and peek inside, Chelsea's bed is empty.
Made. Like she's been gone for hours.
Something clamps down behind my ribs.
Where is she?Nightmare asks, suddenly alert.Did she leave? Did she run?
No. She wouldn't.Would she?
I step fully into her room. The pink blanket is folded neatly. Her sparkly shoes—the purple ones from yesterday—are gone.
She's somewhere in the manor. She has to be.
But a darker thought creeps in: What if she's not? What if our marriage, our terms, our one year—what if it was all too much and she went home?
I'm already moving toward the door when I hear it.
Laughter. Distant. Coming from downstairs.
Her laughter.
Relief floods through me so fast my knees almost buckle. She's here. She didn't leave.
She's laughing.
Chelsea
Icouldn’t sleep. Even with Echo curled up at my feet and Eryx saying, “I’m here,” my mind raced all night. From what happened in his dream room to him asking me to be different—that gave me chills.
Be different. See the man for who he is, not the rumors that swirl around him.
Daylight crept in—and let’s be clear, it doesn’t exactly get bright on this side of the barrier. It only gets less dark.
Count your blessings, I’ve always been told.
I get up and dress in a pair of leggings and a loose sweater that falls off one shoulder. Echo follows me silently as I make my way through the winding halls in the gray-stoned manor.
Even though I’ve been here less than a full day, the place is already growing on me.
There’s something comforting in all the gray. And outside, the purple masses of magic swirl in those glass globes, casting shadows across the street.
It’s not what I’d call dismal, more like the district is its own character. If Castleview is a whimsical and cheery village, the Nightmare District is its jaded cousin.
Eventually I find the kitchen. It’s empty, and when I flip on the light, my breath hitches.
It’s amazing—a huge gas stove with eight burners, sleek appliances, and the stone here is a shade lighter. The place is almost cheerful, and I’m instantly in love.
My stomach rumbles. I didn’t eat much at supper, so now I’m starving.
I find a loaf of crusty bread that was probably baked yesterday, some cream cheese and smoked salmon.
Within minutes I’ve got breakfast, and Echo doesn’t even whine for a bite.
