The carriage wheels groaned against the dirt path, every jolt snapping Camilla out of the thoughts she tried — and failed — to push away. The manor had vanished from sight, but Xavier's eyes were still there, burning in her mind, dark and deep as if they had carved themselves into her very soul.
She should have felt relief. The contest was over. Her obligations there were finished. She was going home.
So why did it feel like she was leaving something she could never replace?
The driver hummed a tune under his breath, the sound oddly loud in the quiet morning. Camilla glanced out the window — fields rolling into distant woodland — and forced herself to take a deep breath. She needed to think of her family, of the life she was returning to.
But the air shifted.
It wasn't the kind of change one could see, but she felt it — like the road itself had gone silent, like the carriage was passing through a place it wasn't meant to.
Then the driver stiffened, his hands tightening on the reins. "We'll be stopping ahead," he said, voice gruff.
"Why?" she asked, her fingers curling into her skirts.
"Road's blocked."
When the carriage slowed, Camilla peeked through the window — and her heart jolted. A man stood in the middle of the path. He wasn't dressed like a traveler, nor did he carry the air of someone lost. His gaze fixed on the carriage, cold and deliberate.
Before she could speak, the door swung open.
"Miss Camilla Fairbourne?" the man asked, voice smooth but chilling.
Her throat went dry. "…Yes?"
He smiled faintly, as if he already knew the answer. "A message for you. From someone… who doesn't want you to forget him."
Camilla's pulse spiked. She didn't need to ask who. She knew.
But when she unfolded the small piece of parchment he handed her, her stomach dropped.
It wasn't from Xavier.
The message was short, ink pressed deep into the paper as if written with force:
"Stay away from him. Or you'll regret it."