The secret, Sonia believed, was in the locked west wing.
Sonia stumbled backward, but the floor had become a mirror, reflecting not her terrified face, but the face of a woman in a crimson gown holding a glowing book.
A man stood at the window, his back to the door. He was tall, dressed in a coat the color of midnight, and he did not cast a reflection in the mirror beside him. When he spoke, his voice was like distant thunder.
And from inside, very faintly, someone new was learning to hum. Lady-Sonia 17 10 27 Secretly Spying On His Aunt...
Sonia’s blood turned to ice. The girl. She meant her.
Then Sonia saw the second figure.
“Curiosity killed the cat, little dove,” Marguerite had warned, tapping Sonia’s nose with a feather quill. The secret, Sonia believed, was in the locked west wing
Aunt Marguerite’s voice floated through the door, soft as a lullaby: “Don’t run, darling. We were all seventeen once. And every family needs a new keeper of the west wing.”
The Velvet Veil
“The moon is full in three nights, Marguerite. The veil will thin. We must decide—does the girl stay, or does she go?” He was tall, dressed in a coat the
Tonight, Sonia decided to become a cat.
Aunt Marguerite only poured the tea, and her hand did not tremble.