Suddenly, a head lurched out in front of me and I jerked back, my heart skipping a beat. A woman stared me in the eye, wearing a high-collared gown, her eyes dark and glassy, as if she’d been watching the hallway for years and had finally grown bored of it. A portrait. I exhaled, massaging the middle of my chest. Then, I realized something else. A portrait had just swung open.
I was about to step around it for a better look when a boy around my age emerged from the darkness behind it. He ruffled his almost shoulder-length hair and a cloud of dust drifted from between his brown curls to the ground.
I was about to ask who he was, what he was doing here, and where exactly he had just stepped out from, when his eyes landed on me. His posture shifted in an instant, and a wide grin stretched across his full lips.
“I don’t think we’ve met.” His accent was rich, its origin unfamiliar, and I couldn’t help the flicker of curiosity it stirred. He reached back and pushed the portrait firmly into place. “Declan Marzouq,” he introduced himself, extending his hand. “And the pleasure is all mine.”
I looked down at his outstretched fingers, then back up at his face.
“Elodie,” I replied, without moving. “What were you doing inside the walls?”
“You’re Lilian’s granddaughter,” he said, ignoring my question. “I could tell from the dark clouds around you.” He gestured vaguely in the air. I followed his hands but saw nothing of the sort. Nothing at all. “I was in the servant passageway,” he added, smiling, and leaning closer as if we were sharing a secret with one another. “It’s where we used to play hide-and-seek when we were children.”
Servant passageways. I heard about those. Hidden corridors built so the staff could remain unseen during the day.
“We?” I asked.
He nodded. “Me, Wisteria, Ransom and Varden,” he explained with a tone that suggested he was surprised I didn’t already know. I raised my gaze, confused. “The children of the other”—he cleared his throat—“associates.”
“Oh,” I said. Interesting.
He opened the door-portrait again and stepped aside, letting me look into the gaping darkness. I narrowed my eyes, as if squinting might somehow pierce through the black. I tried to imagine running through those narrow halls, and the small hairs on my arms stood on end.
Had my mum played in there too?
No—she didn’t trust the dark. Me on the other hand, I was curious what secrets could sleep behind stone walls.
“So, you are?” I asked, glancing at him. His dark eyebrows twitched as if he was annoyed but tried to hide it.
“My father is Vincent Marzouq,” he said with another smile. “He’s one of your grandmother’s business partners.”
Of course. The twins had mentioned Lilian had multiple business associates.
“If you wander around places like this,” Declan continued, leaning into the hole. “You should always carry a box of matches. For emergencies.” At that, he struck one and held it toward the passageway.
For a split second, I saw Preston do exactly the same in the library. The small flame danced along the shadowed stone, flickering like it was casting a spell. I looked left and right, but darkness swallowed the rest of the hallway, keeping its secrets hidden.
I straightened, and Declan blew out the match, closing the portrait back to its rightful place. The smoke curled from between his fingers with a harsh scent.
“Were you heading to the meeting?” he asked, shifting the subject. I nodded without hesitation, though having no idea what meeting he meant.
“Then let me escort you. It’ll be over soon.” He adjusted his long earrings, casually elegant.
The thick carpet stole the sound of our steps as we moved through the manor. We turned into one unfamiliar hallway after the other, until Declan suddenly raised his arm, stopping me in front of a tall double door. Golden rings glinted on each of his fingers beneath the lamplight before his hand fell back to his side.
Just like every other door at Thornhill, this one was covered in carvings as well. Wolves stood in a tight circle with a stag caught in the centre. Beheaded lions framed the scene, surrounded by falling crows and thorny vines. My stomach twisted from the sight.
“What about your sister, Hudson?” Lilian’s voice, sharp as ever, rang from the other side of the door. I leaned closer without thinking.
“Vitalie?” asked another voice I didn’t recognise.
The name struck something in me.
“She’s still away,” Hudson replied, his tone calm and measured. Unmistakable.
“Are we eavesdropping?” Declan whispered, tapping his crooked nose. “Don’t you want to come in?”
I shook my head, my eyes drifting back to the lonely stag in the circle of death. “I changed my mind.” I straightened away from him. I’d never intended to go inside, I was just a tad curious, that’s all. But he didn’t need to know that.
