Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Maybe she would’ve found a way to charm her way into every room, spinning webs of her own. Or maybe she would’ve fought it harder than I ever had. I wasn’t sure. But I knew one thing for certain—she wouldn’t have been as trapped as I was.
That thought made the guilt twist in my gut even more.
Keres must’ve seen the shift in my expression because she leaned in slightly, her voice softer. “You know I’m always ready to be a sounding board, right? You can talk to me if you ever need to get something off your chest.”
Before I could respond, Esther, who had been busy at the other end of the boutique, suddenly chimed in, her tone light but her ears clearly tuned in. “Same goes for me, Lo. You can talk to me about anything. My lips are sealed.”
I forced a smile, my hands tightening slightly on the hem of the dress I’d been pretending to admire. I didn’t believe her for a second. Esther was many things, but a confidante who wouldn’t run straight to Alexander? That wasn’t one of them.
"Thanks," I replied to them both, keeping my tone light.
Keres gave me a look, something that told me she understood more than she let on, before shrugging playfully and turning her attention back to the racks of clothes. Pandora stood beside a display of jewelry, her fingers lightly grazing a few pieces as Nanno described the colors to her.
I couldn’t help but notice how peaceful she seemed as if she’d been living like this her whole life—navigating without sight, but never appearing lost. As we stepped out of a shop and onto the sidewalk, a woman suddenly rushed out of a nearby storefront and headed right toward us, her face flustered. She quickly composed herself, aware of the tourists, but it was clear something was wrong.
“You need to get to the Delacroix residence,” she said urgently, her voice low. “They need the closest hands.”
Esther stepped forward, a frown forming on her face. “What’s happened?”
“The babe,” the woman replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
The name Delacroix clicked in my mind. That was the couple from the Chapel—the beautiful pregnant woman who had kept her gaze down the entire time, and her husband, Jamison.
"Of course, we'll go," I found myself saying naturally, the words slipping out before I could even process them.
The woman glanced at me, did a quick double-take, and then immediately bowed her head. "Sponsa Diaboli, thank you."
"You should get back inside," I replied, noticing the growing interest from the tourists lingering around us.
She nodded quickly. "Of course," she said before retreating into her shop, disappearing from view.
As casually as possible, we began following Esther’s directions, weaving our way through the streets toward where we needed to meet the driver. He was always on standby for moments like this, ready to whisk us away at a moment's notice.
“You handled that well,” Keres remarked.
I blinked, not really understanding what I had done to deserve the compliment. "I didn’t do anything."
“No,” Esther said with a small smile. “You did right.”
I shifted uncomfortably, wanting to change the subject. "What do you think is wrong with Cassandra's baby?"
Drita, Keres’ servitor, answered. “She chose a home birth,” she said, her tone carrying a hint of disapproval as if that explained everything.
I frowned but didn’t press further. Homebirths weren’t uncommon where I was from, but there was clearly more to it here on the Isle. We continued in silence until we found the black SUV waiting for us. We all squeezed inside, the tension thickening the closer we got to our destination. The town faded behind us as the SUV carried us away, the streets becoming more secluded, the homes increasingly grand. It wasn’t long before we reached a gated neighborhood, the kind of place that screamed privilege and security.
The brick brownstones and manicured lawns marked the area as what would easily be considered above middle-class. Gated security at every turn ensured that the inhabitants were safely tucked away from prying eyes.
As we drove through the gate, Nanno, Pandora’s servitor, turned to the three of us and said, "You will want to brace yourselves."
Pandora furrowed her brow. "Brace for what?"
But Nanno didn’t answer, her expression giving nothing away. The tension in the car thickened as we pulled into the driveway of a large, imposing brownstone. The second we came to a stop, a piercing scream shattered the stillness, cutting through the air like a knife.
My stomach twisted violently, the sound triggering an immediate reaction of nausea and dread, but I followed Esther out of the vehicle, my legs feeling wobbly beneath me.
We hurried toward the front door and were ushered inside without hesitation. The screams grew louder as we made our way up a winding staircase, each step making my heart pound faster. By the time we reached the top, my body felt frozen, my hands trembling at my sides. The noise was deafening now, Cassandra's wails of agony reverberating through the halls. Without a word, Esther opened the door.