It was late when I returned to the town house. Mrs. Stirling and Deacon had departed for the night, and I found Phelan sitting in the drawing room before the fire, a glass of wine in hand.

“Miss Neven,” he greeted me as I joined him in the room. I should have known then that something was wrong, but my mind was trapped in a daze. “Are you all right? We were worried about you.”

I sank into the chair across from his. “I’m fine. I went for a walk. I apologize for missing dinner.” I met his gaze, shocked when I saw that his dark hair was unbound, brushing his collarbones. Why was he regarding me in such a way, as if he were memorizing me?

“Is there something on your mind?” he asked.

“No.” It was strange how his eyes, slowly taking me in, made me ache to be known. To not have to hide and pretend and feel this rock in my chest.

“You know you can confide in me, Anna.”

Let it crack, I dared myself. Let yourself fall and come undone and be who you want.

“I know.”

The enticement lasted for a minute before I regained control of myself, glancing away from his intensity. I watched the safety of the fire. And I realized I was just like my father, cut from the same cloth. Deception and secrets and vengeance and lies ran thick in our blood.

“Can I tempt you with a round of Seven Wraiths?” Phelan asked quietly.

“I’m sick of Seven Wraiths,” I replied, pinching the bridge of my nose when I inevitably envisioned my father in that bloodstained armor.

“Then grab another game. I think it’ll take your mind off whatever is troubling you,” he said. “At least for tonight, while you are here with me.”

I sighed but conceded to look at him once more. His gaze was on my neck. On my bruises, I realized, and I watched as his knuckles drained white.

“Very well,” I said, and rose.

I was glad to turn away from him, walking to where the cupboard sat against the wall, just beneath the mirror. I crouched to avoid its taunting gleam, opening the cabinet and sifting through the other board games until I found one that seemed promising. I stood without a second thought.

I hadn’t heard him move.

I hadn’t sensed his presence, not until it was too late.

Phelan stood behind me. I met his stare in the mirror, and his shock sent a pang through me.

He beheld me as I truly was, the girl he had first met and championed. Neither of us moved or spoke. It felt as if ice had fettered my ankles, sprouted in my chest, making it difficult to think through the frost that gleamed between us.

And then he broke it with his voice—the ice and the uncertainty and my entire facade.

“Clem.”