My bedroom is dark when I step inside. The fire has gone out, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust.
A dark shape in the chair at the corner of the room makes me jump. But it’s just Henry’s bag, dumped there carelessly by a servant. My things had better be hanging in the closet, because I cannot abide my mother’s scolding about wrinkled dresses.
Henry will be back soon, which means I need to decide if I want to wait here to see if Aidia shows, or chance a visit to Bea to find out what she knows about the missing women.
I’m so restless. Going to Mountain Haven is the first time I’ve ever been more than a city away from my sister. While I know Aidia wasn’t hurt by the Drained, that doesn’t mean she’s not hurt at all. Until I can look at her again, I’ll be plagued by this same restlessness.
Swiping the poker from beside the fireplace, I prod at the coals to see if I can restart the blaze. The steel scrapes against stone, but there’s no life left in the fire. I’ll have to call someone to get it restarted. In the meantime, I swipe matches from the mantel and light the three candles on the candelabra atop it. The second after I blow out the match, I hear the sound of fabric swishing.
“Are you kidding me with this red lace, Harlow? I know you’re married, but this is downright indecent.”
I turn at the sound of Aidia’s voice and dart to my closet. There she stands, pointing at a hanger holding some of the red lace undergarments Henry had made for me. The sight of her waggling her eyebrows at my underwear unknots something stuck in my chest.
“What’s the point of this? It covers nothing,” she says, flicking her finger over a tiny satin bow.
“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly the point,” I counter.
Her voice is light, but she keeps her face in the shadows as she walks toward me.
I want to grab her and hug her, to bury my face in her hair and smell her floral scent. But she stops in the doorway. She’s keeping her distance.
When she finally tilts her face toward the light, I know why. Her whole left cheek is mottled with bruises, her lip split.
A sickening sense of familiarity hits me. I have seen this too many times before.
I force myself not to react, but I already know from her expression that my aura has slipped, surging out around me like a golden halo.
“My heart,” I rasp.
She smiles sadly. “My bones.”
“Our blood,” we say in unison.
She’s okay.She’s safe.
Except we have never been safe.
The tension that left me earlier returns. I want to touch her, but I can tell by the way she moves so gingerly and keeps her face away from the light as she circles me that she can’t take it. My heart is in my throat. I swear I’ve seen her looking worse, but something about her presence in my closet fills me with dread.
“I can’t stay long,” she says, glancing at the door. “Your husband’s arrival caused enough excitement for me to slip out without any of the servants noticing.”
“Did Rafe try to stop him?” I ask.
“Rafe wasn’t there. I didn’t want to meet him myself until I knew if you were okay.” She smirks. “And until I knew whether I should give him a hug or punch him in the face.”
I laugh.
Aidia shushes me. “You undersold him a bit, Low. You said he wastallish with dark hair. That man isdevastating. What is he, seven feet tall?”
I roll my eyes. “Six-foot-five max.”
Aidia fans herself dramatically. “And those muscles.” She blows out an exaggerated sigh. “That coat must be Divine-blessed, because I swear one flex of his arms and it would be shredded. He looks like he could throw you around—and, frankly, you’ve needed a good fuck these last few years. You were getting pretty uptight.”
I glare at her. “I’ve had plenty of good fucks.”
Aidia whistles low, ignoring me entirely. “And those eyes. Bleeding woods! I’d be on my back day and night.”
I roll my eyes.
