Page 129 of The Vespertine Treaty

I opened the door to the main suite.

"Well,"a dry, judgmental voice chirped from the velvet armchair."Look at what the cat dragged in. Or rather, what the wolf chewed up and spat out."

Poppy was sitting there, her tail twitching, her golden eyes narrowed in mock scandal.

"Good morning to you too," I muttered, moving toward the vanity to splash water on my face.

"You look ridiculous,"Poppy continued, hopping down and trotting after me."Your hair is a bird's nest. You smell likea distillery. And you're radiating enough smug satisfaction to choke a horse. I assume the treaty negotiations went well?"

I caught my reflection in the mirror. My lips were swollen, my neck marked with bruises that turned my cheeks pink. But my eyes... they were bright. Alive. Terrified, but alive.

"They went... thoroughly," I said, unable to suppress a grimace.

"Disgusting,"Poppy declared, though I felt her relief washing over me through the bond."Go eat. You must be starving from all the depraved sex you have had all night with your unhinged husband.”

I went downstairs, expecting to find Cain brooding at the head of the table. Instead, the dining hall was empty. My place was set—silver platter, fresh fruit, warm bread—but the rest of the table was barren.

I ate alone, the silence of the house pressing against my ears. It wasn't the peaceful silence of yesterday. It was heavy. Pregnant.

The doors opened, and Silas entered. He looked impeccable as always, but his movement was stiff. Too precise.

"Good morning, Lady Alistair,” he said, bowing low, and a little too formal for how close we grew after my kidnapping.

"Where is he, Silas?" I asked, cutting to the chase.

Silas straightened, fixing his gaze somewhere over my left shoulder. "Lord Cain was summoned to the Consortium on an urgent matter regarding the border wards. He left before dawn. He instructed that you remain within the estate until his return."

A lie.

My Empathy caught it instantly—a sharp, metallic taste in the air. I was no Enlighter, but this was a big fat lie. Silas was terrified. But he was Silas. He wouldn't lie to me unless he thought it was absolutely necessary.

"I see," I said slowly, putting down my fork. "Thank you, Silas."

He nodded and retreated quickly, as if afraid I would ask more.

"That felt wrong,"Poppy whispered in my mind, her fur bristling.

"I know," I whispered back.

I abandoned my breakfast, the sweetness of the figs suddenly turning to ash in my mouth. I wandered the silent halls, seeking the one soul who couldn't lie to save his life.

We found Friedrik on the terrace overlooking the dead gardens. The gargoyle was pacing—actually pacing—his heavy stone claws gouging lines into the granite.

"Friedrik," I called out.

He jumped, spinning around. His amber eyes were wide, swirling with a chaos I had never seen in him.

"Little Ophie," he croaked. "You should be inside. It's... it's going to rain."

The sky was perfectly clear.

"Where is he?" I demanded, marching up to the massive stone creature. "Don't lie to me, Friedrik. Silas already tried, and he's better at it than you."

Friedrik crumbled. His shoulders slumped, and he looked at the ground.

"He's not at the Consortium," Friedrik rumbled, his voice shaking. "He's... he's gone dark, Ophelia. Worse than ever before."

"What do you mean?" My heart began to hammer against my ribs.