The tour of the Sinclair Estate was less of a walk and more of a hike through a museum where fun was prohibited by law.
Damien led Aria down endless corridors lined with portraits of ancestors who all shared the same nose and the same expression of chronic indigestion. The silence was heavy, broken only by the click of Aria's heels on the marble and the distant, muffled sounds of servants scurrying away from their path.
"This place is huge," Aria muttered, dodging a suit of armor that looked ready to tip over. "And dusty. Do you have a map, or do we just wander until we die of exposure?"
"I know the way," Damien said, his hand warm on her lower back, guiding her through a maze of turns she had already lost track of.
Aria looked around. The estate was impressive, yes, but it was also oppressive. It screamed legacy and burden. It was everything she was fighting against.
