“I cannot bear the thought of losing you,” he says, the words breaking through his composure. “Or of you standing alone while something festers in the dark.”
The confession steals my breath.
He steps closer. “Ada,” he says, his tone quietly intense. “Do you trust me?”
This is not flirtation. Not seduction.
It is a threshold.
I search his face—the storm still flickering in his eyes, the resolve, the edge of something ancient and dangerous beneath his control.
“Yes,” I whisper.
His jaw sets. “Then let me protect you. Whatever the cost.”
Outside, the storm has nearly passed.
But something far more dangerous has just begun.
Click.
Chapter 31
We reach the estate just before the sun sinks fully beneath the horizon. The sky is streaked in bruised purples and gold, only a few clouds remain.
Rowan and Aileen are waiting at the steps. Aileen’s face is pale, tight with worry. Relief floods her features the moment she sees us.
“Where have you been?” she demands. “We searched everywhere. Rowan rode toward the river. I sent servants into the woods.”
Ashford inclines his head slightly. “I’m sorry,” he says, and there is no flippancy in him now. “We did not intend to cause alarm.”
His gaze flickers briefly toward me before he adds, “But we must return to the capital immediately.”
“I thought we were staying for the summer,” Aileen protests, gathering her skirts from the damp ground.
I step forward. “Circumstances have changed. Ashford knows…about the ring. He intends to help.”
Aileen’s hand flies to the small cross at her throat. She presses it briefly to her lips.
Ashford exhales softly through his nose, shaking his head.
She shoots him a look. “You can never be too careful when it comes to the devil’s work.”
We pack before dawn. Only what we need, the rest will follow later. The morning air is cool after the storm, but I know the heat will return soon enough.
When we reach Acheron, Ashford’s farewell is restrained.
We do not touch, but the way he looks at me makes my breath hitch.
“Rowan,” he says evenly, “see that she is returned safely. Wait for my signal.”
Then he is gone.
* * *
The silence that follows is torture for my heart. Days pass, they turn into weeks with no word from him. One night, I return to my chambers to find a small piece of gingerbread placed carefully beside a single pale flower. No note, but I know he has not forgotten me.
Summer slips away. The air grows cooler. I visit my children, spending a couple of nights with them, hating the parting each time.
