No one just vanished in Blackthorn House.
With a growing sense of irritation, Kael turned toward the one place no one had dared check.
His sister's wing.
He walked towards the west wing in smooth, measured steps. When he reached the wooden door, he paused. A faint breeze stirred the edge of the heavy velvet curtain beside it. The scent of wild grass, faint sweat, and something floral—lavender, perhaps—lingered in the air.
The door creaked open without warning.
Penelope sat on her cushioned window seat, bathed in slanting light. Her dark hair was braided down one side, and for once, her skin wasn't as pale as frost. A rare flush colored her cheeks, and a smile still danced at the edge of her lips. She looked… alive.
He narrowed his eyes. "Have you seen Lady Sofia?"
Penelope tilted her head with a mischievous smile. "No one by that name in here."
Kael's gaze swept the room instinctively. His sharp eyes caught the shift in the window's curtain. The pane was wide open, the breeze still fluttering in—and the stool beneath it had been nudged slightly out of place. A faint smudge of mud lay on the windowsill. His eyes narrowed.
"I wasn't expecting you," Penelope said, voice light.
"I gathered," Kael murmured. "You seem… in better spirits today."
Penelope tilted her head with a small, playful smirk. "I'm allowed joy, brother. Even in this place."
He didn't respond immediately. His gaze lingered on the open window again, and the corner of his mouth tightened. He knew who had been here.
But he said nothing.
Penelope noticed the suspicion in his silence, she said nothing either.
He stepped forward, crossing to where she sat. "The breeze is cold. You should shut the window."
"I like it," she said. "It reminds me that the world is still moving."
Kael's eyes flicked once more to the edge of the seat—there, tucked beneath the corner of the cushion, was a single strand of dark brown hair. Not his sister's.
She was here.
And she had jumped out the window?
His jaw tightened. But instead of anger, something else brewed in his chest....curiosity, mostly. Maybe a touch of amusement.
Penelope looked up at him, her expression soft. "I've been alone a long time, Kael. Sometimes… company doesn't hurt."
"I didn't say it did."
"But you suspect."
His lips twitched. "I don't suspect anything."
She studied him a moment longer, then turned her gaze out the window, letting the silence stretch comfortably between them. The wind brushed her cheek like a lullaby.
She knew he knew that she was here.
Kael said nothing further. He turned and left the room without pressing the matter.
The window stayed open.
Nerine ducked and crept beneath the same window minutes later, her dress catching slightly at her ankle as she rushed back through the winding outer paths of the mansion. Her boots sank a little into the grass, damp with late-afternoon dew, and the hem of her gown dragged slightly behind her.
She tiptoed through the servant's corridor, then nearly collided with Clara at the bend.
"There you are!" Clara gasped, relief and mild exasperation bleeding into her tone. "Where have you been? You missed the tea, and the maids were in a frenzy....."
"I was just at the back," Nerine said quickly, gently taking Clara's arm to pacify her. "There's a quiet spot… I was only relaxing. I didn't mean to cause a fuss."
Clara frowned but said nothing more, clearly still rattled. Nerine offered a small, apologetic smile before slipping into her room and shutting the door.
Inside, she let out a long breath and kicked off her shoes. Her dress was smudged with dirt and blades of grass clung to the fabric like whispers of her secret adventure. She peeled it off with care, folded it, and tucked it under her bed before changing into a simpler lavender gown.
By the time she was called down for dinner, her hair was brushed, her face freshened, and she had almost convinced herself that everything was fine.
But that calm was short-lived.
The dining hall, dimly lit by the golden glow of enchanted chandeliers, held its usual chilly air. As she entered, Kael was already seated at the long table. The seat directly opposite him was set—for her.
Her heart jumped as she approached. The flicker of his eyes followed her as she lowered herself slowly into the seat, her fingers fidgeting in her lap.
"Good evening, Lady Sofia," he said, his voice smooth and unreadable.
"Good evening," she murmured, not daring to meet his gaze for long.
The meal began in silence, the soft clatter of silverware filling the space between them. Nerine stared at the roasted vegetables on her plate, barely able to focus.
Then, Kael leaned forward slightly.
"I have a sister," he said, lifting his goblet to his lips without looking at her.
Nerine froze, the fork halfway to her mouth.
"I would very much like to introduce you two," he continued.
"Oh," she managed to say, her throat dry. "That… would be lovely."
He gave a quiet hum, something between agreement and amusement. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he added, "Where were you this afternoon?"
She forced herself to blink naturally, to keep her voice even.
"I went for a walk around the back of the mansion. I lost my way a bit." She laughed gently. "You needn't worry."
"I wasn't worried."
His answer cut through her like a shard of glass.
She blinked, momentarily stunned by the sharpness of it, and felt something tighten in her chest. He wasn't worried.
Of course he wasn't.
But then he added, "You're within Blackthorn walls. Nothing can happen to you here."
She nodded slowly. It was a fair point. And yet… it still stung.
The rest of dinner passed in strained silence. Kael remained as collected and distant as ever, and she answered his occasional remarks with practiced calm. But inside, she was reeling—trying to hold together the pieces of her carefully woven mask.
Later, in the privacy of his chambers, Kael stood at the window, his face lit faintly by the cool silver light of the moon. His room, unlike the opulence of the halls, was stripped of color—charcoal walls, black velvet curtains, a big bed of carved darkwood.
He hit the mechanism beside his desk in his room, his butler appeared.
"Summon Kostas," Kael said quietly. "I want him here by morning."
The butler bowed and slipped out without a word.
Kael didn't move for a long time. His eyes were fixed on the garden far below, where the moonlight caught the top of the apple tree, and the wind stirred the petals like ghosts.
Nerine's hands were trembling slightly as she reached for the lamp in her room. The quiet after dinner was unnerving. The candles flickered gently as she shut the door behind her and leaned against it, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"I survived," she whispered to herself. "He doesn't know. None of the maids do. Clara doesn't suspect anything."
She glanced at the closed window and smiled to herself, just slightly. Penelope. Her strange new friend. A vampire, yes—but something else, too. Something warmer.
Nerine changed into her nightdress, combed her hair back loosely, and slid beneath the covers. The light of the lamps danced across the ceiling, soft and golden, and she let the warmth lull her into stillness.
Then sleep claimed her—and the moment her eyes shut, the room disappeared.
She was outside again.
Barefoot on the cold earth, a white fog swirling around her ankles. The wind howled through trees with leaves, and the moon—bloated and hung low in the sky like a wound.
She stood alone in the silence.