The rest of the day passed in a hush of routine. Shadows stretched across the townhouse, and for once, Edward felt the unusual calm of a life that almost resembled normalcy. But the peace would not last.
When morning came, Edward stirred awake to the faint sound of breathing beside him. His eyes blinked open, landing on the familiar sight of Seraphine sprawled across the mattress, her dark hair tangled like ribbons over her face. Where once he had jolted and fallen off the bed in surprise, now he merely muttered, "Morning," and swung his legs over the edge.
He had grown used to it. Each day, the girl would wake him up by laying beside him, for reasons unknown to him.
But their routine broke almost immediately.
A sharp, insistent knock rattled the townhouse door.
It echoed up the stairs, a sound too heavy for the usual merchants or wandering drunks of the eastern quarter. Edward frowned and made his way down, Seraphine trailing after him, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.
