Cassia stood in the hallway outside the master bedroom, barefoot, arms folded tight across her chest. The door was open. The room waited.
Behind her, Dorian leaned in the doorway of the guest room, watching her like she might bolt.
“I’m not sleeping in there,” she said, nodding toward the guest room. “Not anymore.”
He didn’t move. “Okay.”
“But I’m not sleeping in there either.” She tilted her chin toward the master bedroom.
He straightened slowly. “Where, then?”
“In the ruins,” she said.
She stepped into Katherine’s room.
It smelled like vanilla and secrets. The air was still faintly chilled from the vent her sister had always kept cranked to “museum levels.” The bedding was the same—tight, pale, pristine. Nothing out of place. Like no one had ever died here. Or lived.
Cassia stoo
