“I’m sure,” I cut in, even firmer than before.
He nodded in acceptance, opening the car door. It was thoughtful of him, to take me on a walk to help clear my head from the alcohol, but all I wanted was to be in my own bed. Tornbetween a haunted city and a haunted manor, I would choose the ghosts I already knew.
Declan started the engine, the soft growl filling the silence. My gaze flicked up to the windows of the Devil’s Purse, the uppermost ones cloaked in darkness except for a sliver of red curtain that seemed to move. Not sway, but shift, like it was parting for someone I couldn’t see.
“I won’t marry you.” The words fell sharp and sudden, like a blade unsheathed off my lips.
Declan’s hands tensed on the steering wheel. His brows creased, and something flickered across his tan face. Not hurt… but something else.
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” he said, his voice smooth, practiced, like he was reading it from somewhere. I let my gaze pour into the darkness behind the lights of the car.
“I know about their plan. I’m not agreeing to it.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple rising.
“Good,” he said at last, his movements like a caged bird as he shifted on the leather seat. “Because I don’t want to agree to it either,” he exhaled.
For a breath neither of us moved. So what I suspected was true. This was all part of a greater plan.
My gaze flicked back to the top window, to the shifting curtain. No one stood there. The windows seemed shut tight, with no chance of the wind slipping in. Still, something made the curtains move, something made my skin prickle like the void itself had grown eyes and was staring down at me…
The car moved, and my gaze flicked down to the crimson door crammed between the worn bricks like a bleeding heart. How could a house so bland hide as magnificent a place like the Devil’s Purse?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
AGNES
Sometime in the Seventeenth Century,
Thornhill
The grass is soft beneath my palms, and the sunlight clings to everything like honey.
Eli is in the water. The river bends around him like it knows how to love him—how to hold him without breaking him. His light brown curls catch the light, his skin glowing faintly, as if the sun itself has decided to settle only on him. I watch him from the shore, my arms wrapped loosely around my knees, the hem of my dress brushing the soil.
Everything feels…gentle. The kind of day you never want to end. Warm like a hug, soft like the clouds.
He turns, his eyes meeting mine, and smiles.
It’s not his usual grin—the mischievous one that always makes my heart stutter. This one is slower, quieter. It makes my heart sing even louder.
“Come in,” he says, his voice warm.
I shake my head. “I can’t swim,” I admit, petting the soft petals of a Forget-Me-Not beside me.
“I’ll help you.” He steps closer, the water swirling around his legs, sunlight dancing over the blue surface. “You don’t have to do it alone.”
The river is clear and bright, so shallow I can see the smooth stones scattered across its bed like coins tossed into a wishing fountain. It should feel safe. And yet—there’s still something in me that resists. A small, old part that remembers being afraid of what lies beneath.
I chew my lip, and glance at the trees. They rustle like they’re trying to soothe me.
“I’m not sure,” I murmur.
Eli doesn’t press, but before he can pull back his hand, I reach for him.
The moment our fingers touch, the world seems to exhale. The birds begin to sing again—soft, trilling melodies from branches heavy with leaves. The breeze wraps around us like ribbon. The water greets my ankles with a gentle chill, enough to ground me, to remind me I’m still here.
“You’re doing fine,” he says, guiding me deeper. “Just breathe.”
