The morning sun spilled across the Amster estate's gardens. Lyn sat stiffly at a long table, staring at a tower of delicate pastries. Each one looked like it belonged in a museum instead of in her stomach.
Across from her, Lady Amster sipped tea with regal grace. "You should be careful how you carry yourself at the gala," she said, voice polite but edged like a blade. "People notice the smallest slip."
Lyn forced a smile. "Noted. I'll try not to eat the centerpiece next time."
Lady Amster's cup paused midair. For a moment, Lyn thought she'd said the wrong thing—until Lord Amster burst out laughing.
"My girl has humor," he boomed, wiping his eyes. "Just like her mother."
Lady Amster's lips tightened. "Yes. Just like me."
Michael arrived without announcement, his presence rippling through the servants like a gust of storm wind. He didn't sit. He simply walked to Lyn's chair and rested a hand on its back.
"Come with me."
Lyn blinked. "I'm… eating?"
"You've had enough." His tone left no room for argument.
She looked down at her untouched pastry. "You do realize I've had exactly zero bites, right?"
His eyes flicked to the plate, then back to her. "I'll feed you later."
Her face burned. Lord Amster choked on his tea.
He led her to the gardens, where Kai and Daren trailed behind at a "discreet" distance that wasn't discreet at all.
"You shouldn't be alone," Michael said firmly. "Not after last night's message."
Lyn crossed her arms. "You can't just… guard me twenty-four seven."
His gaze was steady. "Yes. I can."
She sputtered. "That's not how—normal people don't—"
"I'm not normal." His voice was soft, final.
Daren leaned toward Kai. "That was romantic, right? Intense romantic?"
Kai replied without blinking. "Possessive bordering on unhealthy. Statistically effective."
Later that afternoon, Rosa appeared with a folder in hand, her smile perfectly professional. "Miss Amster, your schedule. There's a small charity tea party tomorrow. Very public. Very… delicate."
"Tea party?" Lyn repeated. "Like cucumber sandwiches and gossip?"
Rosa's smile sharpened. "Precisely."
Michael reached for the folder, but Rosa snapped it shut before he could take it. "It's for Miss Amster. She needs to learn her duties."
Lyn caught the flicker of challenge in Rosa's eyes. She took the folder and smiled sweetly. "Thanks, Rosa. I'll practice my pinky finger."
Rosa blinked, thrown off, before regaining composure.
That evening, Lyn returned to her room and opened the locket again. She traced the note inside.
For the day you forget, I'll remind you.
Her stomach twisted. Who was the real Fionlyn? Was she just… borrowing this life?
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Another message.
DO YOU REMEMBER THE PROMISE?
Her heart pounded as she typed: What promise?
No reply. Just silence.
Until, faintly, the sound of a wind chime outside her window—off-key, wrong.
She rushed to the balcony, but the gardens below were empty. Only shadows moved across the grass.
A shiver crawled up her spine.
Behind her, the door opened. Michael stepped in, his expression darkening as he saw her pale face.
"They're watching you," he said quietly, as though he could sense it.
"Maybe I'm imagining it," Lyn whispered.
"No." His voice was a promise, ironclad. "They'll regret every second they make you afraid."
For the first time, she almost believed him.