My eyes flicked between the two while I accepted her hand. I never met twins before, but I imagined them to look a bit more alike. Their faces were like mirrors, crooked only by their contrasts. And Myra’s palm was rough with calluses. I could recognize them anywhere, though I hadn’t borne my own in a while.
“Elodie Smith,” I said, and a sharp tsk slit the air.
“Thornbury, sweet child.”
I blinked, raising my eyes toward Lilian.
“Your mother bore the same name.”
Pressure tightened my chest. My mouth parted to argue, but Cecily, the twin with long pale hair and snowflake coloured lashes, interrupted with a chuckle.
“Names,” she said, twirling one of her curls around her finger. “Such silly things. What truly matters is what lies beneath.”
My brows drew together. That sounded like something my mum would’ve said. And while I couldn’t really grasp her meaning, I was glad she stopped me from opening my mouth and getting myself sent back to London on the first train. For a moment, there was only silence, then?—
“Right.” Myra squinted at her sister, like she couldn't quite understand her words either.
I felt Lilian’s eyes settle on me again, and I met her gaze. She was intimidating, but not in the way I was afraid she would be. She didn’t frighten me, but there was something cathedral-like about her. Ancient, measured, and untouchable.
“Myra and Cecily are my wards,” she said with the smallest of smiles and I blinked, needing a moment to process what she meant.
So they were under her care. Were they orphans, then, like me? Or were their parents coming back? The thoughts crept through my mind like ivy through the cracks of stone. I gave a small nod, careful to keep my expression blank. But the questions kept swarming anyway.
“They arrived a little over a month ago,” Lilian added, looking around. “That reminds me. Where’s Preston?” The twins exchanged a look, and my gaze flicked to the third floor on its own.
Another name, another person. Another ward, most likely. A flicker of movement slipped into the edge of my vision, but when I turned my head, it was my own reflection staring back at me. Pale and tired. Normal. The mirror was tall, framed with once silver snakes and branches, and cracked faintly along the bottom edge. The kind of glass that held the secrets of centuries. Iadjusted my grip around the strap of my bag with unease settling in my chest.
“Probably reading somewhere,” the girls answered in that eerie chorus again. Lilian’s mouth pressed into a thin line.
“I told him to be here.” Her tone shifted, like cool silk beneath silk, as she looked down at her pocket watch. “Would you two be so kind and fetch him?” She slid the watch back into the rolls of her skirt, just as a voice emerged from the shadows.
“There’s no need for that.”
I barely had time to brace myself for another stranger when a boy—or more so a man—around my age, maybe a little older, stepped out of the gloom. He was tall and alarmingly handsome as the candlelight gilded his hair, turning it into a crown. His white button-up was untucked, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows in a careless manner. He looked like someone who didn’t care how he was perceived, like he enjoyed making people feel uneasy with his presence. His eyes met mine, unblinking, and cold enough to make my chest tighten.
“Preston,” Myra muttered under her breath with an insistent edge, clearly trying to catch his attention.
But instead, his gaze swept over me, and the corner of his mouth twisted into a rude grimace. I could barely stop my brows from rising to keep my well-crafted mask in place. My skin pricked as he tipped his head, the motion unmistakably similar to what I had seen on the third floor’s baluster.
“How lovely of you to join us, Miss Thornbury.” His voice was clipped, laced with mockery. “I trust your ride was pleasant?”
For some reason, he didn’t like me. It wasn’t hard to tell from the way the corner of his mouth twitched in disgust. Fortunately, I wasn’t here to be liked. Not by him at least. His dark green eyes locked onto mine as he rested his shoulder against the wall, keeping his distance. Good.
“It was,” I answered flatly.
“Don’t take him personally,” Myra leaned in, whispering, and I ripped my eyes away from him. “Preston’s a menace.”
Cecily nodded solemnly. “Be glad he’s not your brother. Boys can be such a pain in the rear sometimes.”
That, I could agree with. Lilian moved toward the stairs as if she had suddenly grown tired of the situation. At least something I could relate to.
“Well, now that’s settled, I’ll show you to your room.”
The twins darted ahead, their giggling echoing softly as they disappeared up the grand staircase. Lilian was behind them, and I followed, not wanting to get lost in this labyrinthine house, when Preston’s fingers closed around my arm, stopping me.
My muscles tensed. His grip wasn’t cruel, but it was deliberate. I could barely restrain myself from removing it with force. He leaned in, his eyes travelling like he was reading a journal left wide open on the nightstand. For a moment I worried he might see the turmoil stirring inside me and would tell Lilian. But then, my mum’s words steadied me.
Let them be afraid of you. It’s better that way.
