I stood there a moment longer, watching her, seeing a long forgotten memory. The tune she hummed was soft and slow, like something sung to lull someone to sleep.
I curled my fingers around the muffin’s warmth, and suddenly I was a child again. Tucked in my mother’s lap, the same melody threading through the air like silk. I tried to remember the lyrics. Ineededto remember.
But the harder I searched for them, the further they slipped away. My head began to throb.
The sweetness in the air, once comforting, now clung to my skin like syrup. It coated my throat. I couldn’t breathe.
I stumbled backward, out of the kitchen, gasping as the cool hallway air slapped me across the face like cold water. The door clicked shut behind me, but the melody stayed echoing in my ears. It haunted me as I searched for the lyrics in the depths of my mind. Something about a flower… or was it a woman? The words flitted just out of reach, dissolving every time I thought I had them. I massaged my temples.
“Elodie.”
The walls carried my name through the air and I lifted my gaze, sharply. Hudson Lamont walked toward me, a stack of books cradled in his arms, his expression unreadable. The meeting must have ended. I glanced behind him, half-expectingLilian to appear in the amber light of the corridor, but she didn’t. I found myself blowing out a relieved breath. Maybe I would finally get a moment to ask Hudson about my mum.
“How are you liking the book so far?” he asked, voice smooth, eyes darting down to the battered copy ofEncyclopaedia of an Enchanted Gardenpressed protectively to my chest.
“It’s—”Amazing.I wanted to say. “It was my mum’s,” I stated, instead.
Hudson nodded. “It was. I thought you might like to have it.”
“I do.” My fingers tightened slightly around the book. “Thank you.”
For a moment I could’ve sworn he looked pleased with himself then he looked down, rearranging the books in his arms with quiet purpose.
“I’m headed to the library. Would you like to come with me?” He glanced at his watch, as if time was slipping faster here.
I nodded and fell into step beside him. “Why did you have it?” I asked, but I didn’t get an answer. As the moments passed, I started to think the house might have stolen my words before they could reach him.
We walked in silence through the manor, the corridors stretching out even longer than I remembered. We passed my room, then another hallway, then another. I wanted to ask about my mother—needed to—but every time the words reached my lips, something stopped me. Paintings lined the dark walls, portraits of unsmiling men and elegant women with lifelike eyes. Their gazes followed us like threads stitched into the back of my neck. I kept walking.
Hudson stopped in front of a tall, double-winged door. My brow furrowed. I could’ve sworn I had walked this exact path earlier, but I’d never seen this door before. It felt as though the house itself was changing, playing tricks on my mind.
Hudson pushed the door open and stood aside to allow me to enter. The scent of ink and parchment poured out in waves. I stepped inside, and my sight was consumed by the sky-touching shelves that overflowed the enormous room. The hardwood creaked beneath my boots, my stomach wriggling with disbelief. If I thought the old library was extraordinary—I raised my eyes at the ceiling, painted with rich patterns of gold and blue, like the starry night sky—then this one was otherworldly.
The windows were long, reaching high up the walls. They probably lit the whole room when the sun was out, shining. Now though, everything sat in grey silence.
Hudson walked ahead, sliding the books into place one by one while I trailed behind, my fingers absently playing with the green crystals on my wrist. My eyes scanned the shelves, looking for a three-word title.
“Your mother loved this room.” His words cut clean through the silence, and I blinked, caught off guard.
He didn’t elaborate. His blue eyes clouded for a breath, like he was remembering. His hand grazed his jaw. “If you need anything…” he began, the words slowly dying on his lips.
No one offers help without wanting something in return,my mum’s words whispered into my ear.
“Thank you,” I said quickly, tipping my chin up, “but I’m fine.” I paused, gathering my courage. “How did you know my mum?”
Hudson placed the last book in its place and turned to look at me.
“Our parents were…friends,” he said. “Of some sort. We grew up together.”
Them. “Vitalie, your sister. She was her friend.” I remembered why her name rang so familiar in my search for the library. My mum had written about her in her diary.
Hudson nodded. “They were best friends.”
“And Alex?” I blurted, too curious to stop.
Hudson arched a dark brow. “You’ve done your homework, I see.” There was a smile playing on his lips, and my chest flushed.
“I found her diary,” I admitted.
