The morning sun crept into the room as Cillian’s eyes fluttered open. His breaths came in short, uneven bursts. The nightmare clung to him, and his mind reeled with the woman’s words. He looked down at his bandaged hands, the dull ache a cruel reminder of what had happened. Beside him lay a tray of untouched food and a tonic on the nightstand. He turned away, his throat tightening.
The hallucinations had started a week ago, creeping into his mind with whispers that slithered like venom through his thoughts. He had tried to push them away, desperate not to worry Evelyne or cast a shadow over her season. But last night, they had twisted into something far worse. It felt like something was festering inside him, an infection with teeth. A parasite that writhed beneath his skin, feeding and waiting. Like something not entirely his own… somethingdemonic.
He’d caught the way Evelyne watched him in the library yesterday, her eyes full of concern as he struggled to mask his vacant stares. She had seen it. And he knew the truth wouldn’t stay hidden from her much longer. Frustration curled hot in his chest.Why am I such a burden?
Pain flared through his arms as he slowly pushed himself upright. “It’s not real,” he muttered. He drew in a shaky breath and whispered it again, desperately this time. “It’s not real.”
Chapter 5
Evelyne ran until Duskwood Manor was a distant memory, her legs carrying her far beyond where reason might have stopped her. The sun was gentle against her flushed skin, but her mind was ablaze with thoughts. Her mother’s callous ignorance was unbearable. Even Aurelia had looked baffled at her words. How could she care so little for Cillian’s distress, focusing only on matchmaking Evelyne to Ivan Bavrick? The very thought of Bavrick made Evelyne ill. No amount of wealth could make her endure that man’s touch.
She inhaled deeply, keeping her pace steady and swift, each breath sharp against the ache growing in her chest. The image of Cillian’s strained, terrified face burned in her mind. He must feel so frightened, so utterly alone. But why hadn’t he confided in her about the episodes returning? She’d noticed his unease in the library yesterday—how his golden eyes had dulled with fear—but she’d been too caught up in her mother and sister’s incessant meddling to act on it. She understood why he stayed silent, though; she always understood him.
Later, she would go to his room, and if words failed, she’d sit with him in quiet solidarity. He needed to know he wasn’t alone, and she needed him to know she was there.
The familiar woods eventually gave way to the edges of the Stonebridge estate. She hadn’t planned to come this far, but her feet had a mind of their own. Lost in thought, she nearly stumbled over a gnarledbranch, but recovered quickly, her breath ragged as she tried to steady herself.
Ahead, Alaric stood on the estate grounds, fencing with his trainer. His lean, muscular frame moved with precision, his dark hair sweaty. She inwardly cursed her luck for ending up here, disheveled and out of breath, but his boyish grin remained firmly in place as he spotted her.
“Lady Evelyne!” he called, excusing himself from the trainer. Concern flickered in his blue eyes as he jogged toward her.
She sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, and forced a polite smile. “Mr. Stonebridge. I didn’t mean to disturb your training. Please, don’t let me interrupt. I was running, and… Well, I seem to have gotten carried away.”
He stopped a few steps from her, his grin turning roguish. “You’re not interrupting at all. Honestly, I was looking for an excuse to stop. My trainer’s been trying to kill me with drills all morning.” His gaze swept over her. “But it seems I’m not the only one who’s been put through their paces today.”
Evelyne stiffened, glancing down at her mud-speckled shoes and sweat-dampened clothes. “Are you suggesting I look a mess?”
“Not in the slightest,” he replied smoothly, his voice laced with mock sincerity. “You look… determined. Like a warrior fresh from battle. Quite inspiring, really. Though I admit, I’ve never seen a southern lady dressed in men’s riding breeches before.”
A reluctant laugh escaped her lips, and she shook her head. “They’re my brother’s, and you’re insufferable.”
“But I’m also kind,” he quipped, offering her his arm. “Come inside for some water or tea. You’ve earned it.”
She hesitated, acutely aware of her rumpled state. “I wouldn’t want toimpose—”
“Nonsense,” he cut her off. “You’d be doing me a favor. My trainer will have no choice but to let me rest a little longer.”
Relenting, Evelyne took his arm, trying to maintain her composure despite her exhaustion. “Fine. But if this is just an excuse to skip your drills, I’m telling your trainer.”
Alaric smirked as he guided her toward the house. “You think that scares me? I’ve survived worse.”
***
Evelyne’s gaze drifted over the drawing room as she sipped her tea, the warmth grounding her amid her unsettled thoughts. The space was refined yet inviting, with towering bookshelves filled with old tomes and volumes. Near the tall windows stood a harp, its golden strings catching the soft afternoon light as if longing for a touch to awaken its silent melody.
Her attention settled on a framed portrait above the fireplace: Alaric as a boy, standing stiffly between his father and her own. Gaviel Stonebridge smiled proudly while her father’s hand rested firmly on young Alaric’s shoulder, expressing quiet approval.
Alaric followed her stare. “That was the year your father first invited me to the winter festival,” he said faintly. “I remember being terrified of him. He had this way of looking at you like he could hear every thought in your head.”
Evelyne huffed a laugh. “He still does. I know that look all too well.”
“He’s always been fair, even when it wasn’t easy.” Alaric leaned back, his voice turning thoughtful. “You know, my grandfather once told me the Duskwoods were different from most noble families. He said they lead not just with power, but with purpose. And that their strengthcomes from how fiercely they support each other, going back generations. That’s why our families tied their fortunes together—to be each other’s backbone if the world ever turned uncertain.”
Evelyne set her cup down, studying him. “And your father? Does he believe that too?”
Alaric’s expression softened. “He does. He’s always said that wealth and influence mean little without integrity. It’s what sets the Stonebridge name apart, even among merchants. My father takes great pride in knowing our success never came at the cost of our principles. Your family recognized that then, and still does, which is why this alliance has lasted for generations.”
Evelyne tilted her head, considering. “And you? Do you feel the weight of carrying that legacy and alliance?”
