Azpen broke the silence first, forcing a laugh that sounded a little too sharp. He rose from the table, dusting his palms together. “Ghosts,” he said with a crooked grin, though his eyes flicked toward the yawning doorway. “The old stacks are full of them. That’s why I never read.”
Baron’s chair scraped back, slow, deliberate. He didn’t look amused. His gaze lingered on Elowyn, longer than was necessary, before he finally stood. “Don’t stay here,” he said flatly. “If it was a ghost, you’re in its way. If it wasn’t…” His eyes hardened. “…then you’re in someone else’s.”
The two of them left without another word, their boots echoing down the marble hall until the silence closed back in.
Elowyn’s heart wouldn’t settle. The open doorway seemed to watch her, a dark mouth that might yet swallo
