The hallway in the west wing felt long and dark. The key in my hand was cold and jagged. Sebastian's hand on my shoulder provided a moment of support as we walked toward my room, moths fluttering around us.
"Don't let it pull you in," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the creaking floorboards. "She wants you to chase her to make you off balance and reckless. We stick to dawn and our plan." His eyes shine with a mixture of caution and something deeper, as if he could see my wavering confidence and didn't want me to let it break.
I nodded, but the key felt sharper in my hand, reminding me of Elara, whose name echoed ominously from the vents. "That's easy to say," I replied, my voice tense. "She's everywhere, listening and causing chaos. You expect me to sleep knowing she's haunting my house?"
He stopped and faced me, his body blocking the cold air of the hallway. "I expect you to be smart. You're not your father, running blindly into mazes won't give you answers." His jaw tightened. "My family believed his promises once and lost everything. Don't make the same mistake." His words carried heavy meaning, not just from his past but also the bond we shared, which felt strained under our unspoken truths.
I wanted to press for more about his story, about his debt, but a sudden creak from the library interrupted my thoughts. It wasn't just the house settling. it felt like urging us to turn back. "Fine." I agreed, forcing my voice to stay calm. "But if another note shows up, I won't wait for Aunt Lydia's to read it."
He smiled slightly, a hint of his usual humor returning. "Noted. If you go rogue, I'll be right behind you. Someone needs to keep you from falling into trouble." He teased, but his gaze was serious, sealing a pact between us.
We reached my door, the silence of the west wing pressing in around us. I hesitated, glancing at the dressing room door across the hall. "Check it," I suggested, nodding toward it. "If Elara's using tunnels, she might have been there. Right under us."
Sebastian narrowed his eyes but didn't argue. He walked to the door, tried the handle locked, just as Mrs. Dalloway had said. He knelt to inspect the keyhole then pressed his ear to the wood. "Nothing," he said, standing back up. "But the air feels different, He looked at me. "Do you want to open it now?"
"No," I replied softly. "But I don't think I have a choice." I pulled the dressing room key from my clutch—taken from Mrs. Dalloway's desk days ago, and hidden since the gala. The lock clicked loudly in the silence, and the door swung open, releasing a gust of lavender scented air and the sound of rustling.
Inside, the room looked the same, robes on the chair, the vanity mirror reflecting a single lamp's light. But the ledger I had locked away was out, spread open on the table, with a note pinned to it using a moth shaped hairpin. My breath caught as I entered the room, with Sebastian close behind, his hand near my back as a guard against the unknown.
The note was written in a familiar handwriting. "Look closer. The eyes see all." Below it, a ledger entry was highlighted in fresh ink. "R.G. — Transfer — 8/15 — 03:00." Tomorrow at three in the morning. This wasn't a meeting, but a hidden transaction in the tunnels Lydia had warned me about. My heart raced as Elara's game tightened.
"She's not guiding me," I whispered, the name "Elara" feeling bitter in my mouth. "She's challenging me." The moths swarmed around the lamp as if drawn in by the note. Sebastian placed his hand on my shoulder, offering strength as the walls seemed full of secrets.
"She's planning her moves," he said urgently, picking up the hairpin and examining it. "This transfer isn't just about papers. It's leverage. And someone is waiting to collect." His gaze met mine, fierce yet calm, as we faced the danger together.
I tucked the note into my pocket, the ledger heavy in my hands. Outside, the garden lanterns flickered through the window, turning Hartwell into a living chessboard, with Elara moving pieces I had yet to see. The lavender scent thickened, mingled with smoke from the vents, and the moths buzzed faster, their wings made a frantic sound.
I turned to Sebastian, my voice tense. "Let's find her. We need to do it before she finds us." As I spoke, I heard a strange scratching sound from the vent above. It wasn't the wind or moths, but something heavier, like fingers moving along the metal. The air got colder and the lavender smell grew stronger. I thought I saw a shadow pass across the mirror, too tall and hooded to be my own.
Sebastian tightened his grip on me, pulling me back from the vent. "Dawn," he said, but his voice showed he was unsure. He glanced at the mirror as if he had seen the shadow too. The scratching came again, slow and careful, followed by a faint sound. The moths flew away, and the lantern outside flickered once, bright as a warning, then plunged the garden into darkness.
I held the ledger tightly, my heart racing. Elara was not just in the tunnels—she was here, her presence filling Hartwell. The hairpin on the table glinted, a challenge, a clue, a weapon I didn't know how to use. "Three a.m.," I said, keeping my voice steady despite my racing heart. "She has set the time. We set the terms."
Sebastian nodded, his hand still on my shoulder, promising without words. The room felt smaller, the walls leaning in. From the vent came one last sound—a whisper, not my name or Elara's, but a single word. "Soon." It hung in the air, signaling that something was coming that would burn brighter than Rosegate's flames. As the moths settled around us, I realized that dawn wasn't just a plan. It was a deadline.