Page 39 of The Vespertine Treaty

I didn't look up. "I told you," I rasped, my voice cracked and dry. "I'm not eating. Let me rot."

"A pity," a deep, gravelly voice rumbled. "The chef prepared squab. It’s excellent."

I froze. It wasn't a maid.

I looked up to see one of the senior house guards standing in the doorway. He wasn't sneering; his face was a mask of bored professionalism. He held a silver tray in one hand.

And tucked under his other arm, looking thoroughly annoyed but unharmed, was a ball of gold fur.

"Poppy!"

The name tore out of my throat, half-sob, half-scream.

The guard stepped forward and unceremoniously dropped the fox onto the end of the bed. "His Grace suggests you eat now, Lady Alistair. He requires your presence in the conservatory within the hour."

He set the tray down and left without another word.

I didn't care about him. I scrambled across the mattress, grabbing Poppy, burying my face in her fur. She smelled of expensive soap and lavender.

"Oph,"her voice crashed into my mind—a sudden, overwhelming rush of colour in a grey world."Oh, thank the Gods. You look terrible. You look like something the cat dragged in, and I would know."

I sobbed, clutching her tight, rocking back and forth. "I thought… I thought he hurt you. I thought?—"

"Hurt me?"Poppy pulled back, licking the tears from my cheek with her rough tongue."Please. I was in the West Wing. I had my own velvet cushion, Ophelia. They fed me salmon. Fresh salmon. I was treated like a princess."

She paused, her ears flattening, her mental voice dropping to a shudder. "But the walls… they were lined with dampeners. Thickones. I couldn't hear you. I couldn't feel you. It was just… quiet. It was the loudest quiet I’ve ever heard. I hated it."

She nuzzled into my neck."He didn't have to beat me to torture us, Oph. He just had to turn the volume off."

Fresh, white-hot hatred flooded my veins, burning away the suicidal fog. Cain hadn't harmed her physically because he knew that wasn't the leverage he needed. He had pampered her while starving my soul.

"I’m never letting you go again," I whispered fiercely.

"Good,"Poppy snapped, though I felt her relief washing over me. "Now eat that squab. If I had to endure three days of solitary confinement with nothing but gourmet seafood, you can manage a few bites of bird. You need your strength. His Royal Assface is waiting."

I ate. I forced the food down, turning my grief into fuel.

An hour later, I was dressed. I washed the despair off my face, donned a gown of severe black silk, and walked out of the room. I wasn't walking to a surrender. I was walking to a battlefield.

Cain found me in the conservatory, a grand, vaulted chamber of gleaming glass and black steel. It was the only room in the estate with any pretence of life, though it was a life entirely different from the vibrant, chaotic gardens of Ashworth estate. I was standing by a cluster of crystalline flowers that hummed with a soft, ethereal energy, a stark, lonely figure in a world of alien beauty.

“He’s here”, Poppy’s voice was a sharp warning jab in my mind.“I can feel his chilly, soulless little heart.”

I didn’t turn. I didn't need to. The feeling of being watched intensified, a cold, predatory hum that settled at the base of my skull. I felt his presence behind me, an oppressive, suffocating weight that made it hard to breathe. He was a perfect Void, a chilling absence in a room filled with quiet, magical life.

A dry, scraping sound preceded a familiar booming voice. “Oh, marvellous. The little Aenite is out of her room and admiring the lilies. Don’t do anything stupid, lad. Those things are priceless.” Friedrik had clearly positioned himself near the open archway, observing the scene.

"They're called Vespertine Lilies," Cain's voice was a low, resonant hum, a perfect contrast to the silence. "They bloom only once every hundreds of years. This is a very rare collection."

I finally turned, my gaze settling on his face. He looked immaculate. Not a hair out of place, not a shadow under his eyes. He looked like a male who had slept soundly while I contemplated ending my life.

"You severed the bond," I said, my voice shaking not with fear, but with the aftershocks of trauma. "You ripped her away. You know what that does to a Dyad. It is not just isolation, Cain. It is amputation."

His expression did not change. He stepped closer, examining me with a cold, clinical curiosity. "I warned you, Ophelia. Did I not explicitly state that if you wandered where you were forbidden, I would lock the beast away?"

"That doesn't make it right!" I snapped, my hands curling into fists. "It was cruel. It was unnecessary."

"It was a consequence," he countered smoothly, his voice devoid of pity. "You chose to test the boundaries of my mercy. You choseto ignore my command. Do not look at me with that wounded expression, wife. You hold the blade. I merely guided your hand. If you felt pain these last three days, it is because you inflicted it upon yourself through your own disobedience."