At the hour of midnight, a blizzard had started outside the Slater mansion.
Snow struck the windows until all the glass frosted into blindness and the world had been reduced to white noise. Inside the mansion, the corridors were deserted while candles burned, nearing their last breaths, leaving some corridors dark.
On one of the floors, Peyton stood against the wall with her eyes closed, with her hand resting against her dagger. Even though she was a vampiress, she wore a coat, as the chill from the outside had seeped into the corridors.
Beyond the other side of the door, the coals burned in the fireplace, emitting heat and light, while the rest of the room remained covered in shadows.
In the bed, Ruelle was fast asleep. One of her hands stretched across the warm bedspread, her forearm hanging at the edge of the bed, her breathing slow and even. The strain that lived in her expression during waking hours had smoothed away, leaving her looking softer than usual.
