The room in the Crepusci estate was less a nursery and more a mausoleum. Heavy velvet curtains blocked out every photon of light. The air was stale, smelling of lavender and despair.
I knelt on the expensive rug, ignoring the looming, terrifying presence of Duke Lucien Crepusci behind me.
I looked at Silas.
The Silent Cub was sitting in the corner, knees pulled to his chest. He was a tiny thing, maybe four years old. He had messy, ink-black hair and big, round panther ears that were pinned flat against his skull.
But it was his eyes that chilled me. They were a dull, flat violet. He was looking right at me, but he wasn't seeing me. He wasn't blinking. He wasn't breathing rhythmically. He was frozen.
I'd seen this look before. Not in this world. In my old life.
How long? I asked softly, not turning around.
"Six months," Lucien's voice floated from the shadows, smooth and dangerous. "Since the... incident."
