SERENE'S POV
I did not go down to dinner.
For the rest of the day, I paced about the room, my thoughts swirling endlessly around the events of the afternoon—pregnant Ianthe with her baby things. The pink baby shawl, the delicate booties arranged like trophies on the shelf.
I laughed—a bitter, sound that echoed off the walls. Then again, and again, until I couldn’t stop. The laughter felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else entirely. It scraped at my throat like sandpaper.
A knock sounded abruptly on the door.
“Who is it?” I snapped in question.
“Agnar,” came the calm, unbothered voice.
“Open up.”
I walked to the door and pulled it open.
For a few seconds, he simply looked at me. I wasn’t sure what he saw in that moment—maybe a woman going mad.
“They say you refuse to com
