The muffled voices from within the study were now a low, continuous hum. Emmett leaned his head closer to the polished wood of the door, pressing his ear against a seam where the sound was clearest. He could now make out the distinct words of the Baron, and they filled him with a cold sense of dread.
"...She will have a single drop of calvanite mixed with water, injected into her daily for about a month,"
the Baron said, his voice a low, soothing murmur.
"That will get her body accustomed to Calvanite before she takes the pure dose."
A faint, trembling whisper followed. Carolyn's voice.
"Is that truly necessary, dear?"
"It is very necessary,"
the Baron's voice was firm now, an undeniable command.
"Just introducing a full dose of pure calvanite into her system could have devastating effects on her body. It might even cause death."
A sharp, audible gasp came from within the room, followed by the rustle of clothing and what sounded like the soft brush of the Baron's hand on his wife's arm.
"Now, now, my dear,"
the Baron's tone became soft and reassuring again.
"I would never let that happen. I've personally checked the dosage. I'll be with her every step of the way. I can assure you that Cecilia will not die. I'll make sure of it."
Emmett felt a wave of shock so profound it made him go completely still.
*Calvanite?*
The thought of the Baron using that substance on his own daughter, a frail, delicate girl, was utterly beyond his comprehension. It didn't make sense. His mind raced, not with anger, but with a need to understand.
*Why would he do this? What does he hope to gain?*
He needed more information. He was about to lean in even closer, to try and hear what else was being said, when a hand gripped his shoulder from behind.
Emmett's body went rigid. His breath caught in his throat, and every muscle in his body tensed, preparing for a fight. He was caught. Before he could turn or react, a low voice, barely a whisper, came from behind him.
"Calm down. It's just me."
The tension broke, and Emmett let out a quiet exhale. He turned slowly, the surprise evident in his face. It was Corbin, his short brown hair a mess, and his piercing blue eyes fixed on Emmett.
Emmett quickly motioned for him to be quiet.
"What are you doing here?"
he whispered, his voice laced with confusion.
"I thought you were with Rhys and Beatrice in the infirmary."
Corbin shrugged, his gaze darting from Emmett to the closed study door.
"We were just discharged. The staff said we were good to go."
"Are Rhys and Beatrice okay?"
Emmett asked, his voice still low.
Corbin sighed, a quiet, tired sound.
"Yeah, Rhys has recovered. But Beatrice... she'll be in a wheelchair for a while because of her dislocated knee. The nurse said she'll be fine in a week or two, though."
Corbin's eyes narrowed on Emmett again. He gestured toward the door.
"So, what are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be getting ready for dinner."
Emmett glanced at the door before turning to Corbin.
"I was just..."
He stopped, a moment of silence passing over his face.
"It's nothing. I just wanted to meet with the Baron."
Corbin frowned. He knew Emmett was lying; his eyes gave him away, but he couldn't prove it. He didn't push. Instead, he just sighed and gave a small nod, deciding to not bother with the matter.
Emmett turned to the door to continue listening to the Baron's conversation, but he noticed something. The Study was quiet. Too quiet. Emmett's senses went on high alert. He leaned closer to the door, his ear pressed against the wood. He could barely make out the Baron's voice, now a low, chilling whisper.
"...shush, my dear,"
the Baron was saying.
"Someone is outside. I heard voices."
A wave of dread washed over Emmett. He tensed, his eyes wide. He pulled away from the door and turned to Corbin, his face a pale mask of terror.
"He knows,"
Emmett whispered.
"He knows we're here. We've been caught."
Corbin's eyes were filled with confusion. He opened his mouth to ask what Emmett was talking about. But before he could get a word out, the door to the study swung open.
The Baron stood in the doorway, his wide, proud smile gone. His face was a mask of cold fury, and his gray eyes, which had been so full of warmth and cheer just moments ago, were now devoid of all emotion.
"Emmett,"
he said, his voice flat and calm, a contrast to the rage in his eyes.
"And Corbin. What were you two doing out here?"
He gestured to the door behind him.
"And why were you so close to my study door?"