The moonlight poured in through the hallway window, casting long silver shadows across the stone floors.
My bare feet made no sound as I padded down the corridor, the coolness of the marble grounding me as the whirlwind in my chest threatened to rise again.
I wasn't sure why I left my room. Maybe I needed air. Maybe I just wanted to be somewhere he wasn't.
Except… apparently, I failed at that.
A familiar voice slithered from just beyond the bend in the hall—soft, syrupy, and soaked in poison.
Anaïs.
Of course.
I slowed, pressing my back against the wall and peeking around the edge, the silken curtain hiding me in shadows.
There she was, my stepsister—hair curled like gold, skin shimmering like pearls, and robe sheer enough to reveal her intentions.
She stood in Alaric's doorway, hand perched lightly on the wooden frame like a siren about to drag a sailor to his doom.
