“So… do the ladies of the haunted estate know about this?”
I recall how far back Francesca stood from the statue. Most people never realise how they position themselves around things they distrust. She didn’t move closer until she was certain (whether she knew it or not) that it was safe, until nothing happened to me the longer I stood there.
She tugged at the hem of her sleeves thrice, fingers brushing over wrists, protecting the pulse points like the ghost of a betrayed ancestor screamed for her to shield herself. I called her afraid because it was clear her body remembered something older than her. Yes, she didn’t know much about the statue, but she knew it was wrong.
Why?
Because when I circled it and passed through its shadow, she didn’t follow.
“No,” I answer after a beat, “I doubt duchesses are taught wartime infiltration through sculptures.”
“Neither are fuckingprinces,” he splutters through a laugh, and I allow myself a snort, rolling my eyes when he cheers at the victory. “So, metaphorical shovels are out, then? Gonna interrogate a bunch of statues?” His voice is pitched between horror and reluctant fascination.
“No need,” I mutter, already mapping out my plan. “One’s already trying to speak.”
Kai presses the heel of his hand to his forehead and flops back onto the sofa. “That’s not creepy at all. Love that for us and all, but on another note—the rumour. Did she do it?”
“Kairos, I’m begging you, let that Reddit rumour die.”
“Oh, like how my account died, I see. Injustice wins again.”
“Fuck’s sake,” I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose and turning away from him.
He reclines there, a child testing whether a tantrum would be worth it. There’s a hush for the briefest moment, and I swear I can hear Francesca’s laugh from an entire floor away.
It echoes from the stone, the castle bending over itself to hand it to me. The headline of that subreddit is small here in comparison to everything else.
“Murder wouldn’t be the most frightening thing here,” I say at last.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kai pulls a face.
I consider the rope in the archives, how she specifically chose to show me that artefact. “Shecouldbe a murderer, but it would be secondary to the real predator.” I glance at Lady Athena’s portrait. “This fucking estate. The walls breathe, and the ground holds onto your steps.”
His response is slow to arrive, perhaps he clocks the traces of fear in my voice. I don’t know what it is, but he’s serious now. “That’s morbid as hell. If you’re still planning on digging, I suggest you sleep with one eye open.”
“That’s if this place lets me sleep.”
Somewhere beyond my room, we hear a door shut. Just opposite mine where Kai’s room is. We both turn towards the sound, yet no footsteps follow. No breath, no shadow pooling under the gap. Kai’s knuckles whiten as he grips the remote. Stone lungs expel a quiet breath. Neither of us says anything as the castle finishes the conversation for us.
14
GLASS MANNERS
ERIC
For two weeks, Kai and I have enjoyed what passes for freedom here in Sheffolk. We’ve been given the run of the estate, but always under the watchful eye of Pascoe or Philip, sometimes even Ms Thorpe, the head of security. The Duke and Duchess are detained at Rosenthal orchard because, on their final day, a footbridge failed a safety inspection, forcing Duchess Sylvaine to remain and do a complete redraw of stall placements.
I know this information because Kai was interested enough in that fucking fair to ask Francesca all about it.
For those same amount of days, I enter a one-sided war against the smell of mildew. It’s everywhere. In my hair, bedding—even in my fucking bathroom. I’ve fought my way through three different linen sheets, had my towels boiled and sprayed so much room fragrance that I’m half-certain I’ve already died from asphyxiation.
In an act of resistance, I’ve started taking morning jogs around the estate in the hopes that the wind velocity might shake the stench loose.
Which brings me to this fine morning.
“Remember that footman that spoke with Philip when we first arrived? Andrew or something,” Kai yaps, wiping sweat from his brow as he keeps up with me along the woodland paths. “Caught him mid-wank last night—straight-upchokinghis cock—while one of the kitchen girls watched. Fingering herself like it was some sort of team-building exercise. What’s her name again? Arabella… I think so. The one that served your coffee this morning.”
“I didn’t need to fucking know that.”
