Page 31 of Dark Night of the Soul

I didn’t wait for his answer.

I left the room and closed the door behind me hard enough that the walls rattled.

I stood in the hallway a long moment, closed my eyes, took a deep breath. There was no movement or sound on the other side. He wasn’t coming after me.

I didn’t want him to.

I made my way down the hall to the library. Standing inside the room, the silence was deafening. Only one lamp lit on my uncle’s desk, illuminating the cherrywood in a faint glow. I crossed to the liquor cart, poured myself a whiskey, and downed it. Refilled it.

It burned and did nothing.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I should let him do whatever he was doing. Still, it felt like surrender. Like handing him my autonomy.

I glanced over at the desk and noticed the top drawer partially open. Like someone didn’t close it all the way. Which was unusual. Anyone who’d come into this room would never leave the desk like that. Not me. Not Kincade.

I placed the glass down on the cart and walked to the desk. My hand shook as I pulled open the drawer, dread coursing through me at what might be inside.

There, an envelope. Not my name. His.

Why would he leave it there? Hoping I wouldn’t see it? Or hoping—dangerously—that I would?

I picked it up. The paper was thick. The seal already broken. I slipped out the note. The paper was crumpled, like it was crushed in a fist.

With my heart in my throat, I unfolded it. Read the four lines in a precise script.

You’ve had your freedom. You’ve made your choice. Now it’s time to understand the cost. Bring her to us—or we’ll come to you.

Oh, fuck.

My legs gave out. My pulse roared in my ears. I crashed into the desk chair, staring down at the carefully written words. The directive. The warning. The threat. And I’d been running around all day with an attitude while he—

He sent Silas.

He’d been standing between me and the firing line. He killed a Watcher.

He wasn’t deciding for me. He was trying to spare me the choice.

And, terrifyingly, I understood why.

He thought he was protecting me.

What he was doing was teaching me how alone he felt.

An ache settled deep in my chest, heavy and sharp. I folded the note, slid it back into the envelope, returned it to the drawer, and shoved it closed like I could trap the truth inside with it.

I heard a muffled noise downstairs. My head snapped up. I shot to my feet. My hand went to my waist. Even though I reminded myself to grab my dagger, I didn’t. I was standing there unarmed. Exposed.

I glanced toward the windows on the other side of the room, my heart in my throat. The curtains were drawn. No one could see in.

The noise again. I couldn’t make it out. It could be anything. Ophelia. My mother. Grace. Piers, even. Perhaps someone was in the parlor.

But at this time of night? Why?

My gaze cut to the library door standing open to the hall. No movement. No shadows. Nothing.

I thought of the vault behind me. What was in there I could use as a weapon? And did I have enough time to arm myself?

Then he was in the hall. Moving down to the stairs in stealth. I never would have known if I hadn’t been looking.