Page 79 of A Vow of Shadows

She bit her lip, eyes darting over the familiar landscape.

We passed through the town, and my heart sank as we turned onto a long, winding road. At the top of the hill sat the Duke’s estate.

Katrin expelled a breath like she’d been holding onto the same one all this time. “Who, Evander?”

There was no way for me to know, not until I met the soul. I urged the horses faster.

As we crested the hill, she leapt from the coach in a flutter of fabric, her shadow sentinels darting out to slow her fall. Her feet touched down, and she took off. I sprang to my feet, swaying slightly as I followed her path to the front door. She hesitated at the threshold, and I offered my hand in silent support. As the shadows ushered us through, I prayed that Death would not be as cruel as I feared.

Chapter 48

Katrin

Istepped into the foyer, my footsteps silent on the marble floor. Where I’d expected to be greeted by a lost soul, there was nothing. I was grateful for Evander’s stoic presence at my side. The urge to lean into him nearly toppled me. Though he was no longer doubled over in pain, I managed to keep myself upright without his aid.

“Where?” I breathed.

Evander’s shadows melded with those cast by the flickering candlelight. The air was heavy with tension as he interlaced his fingers in mine. I could feel his eyes upon me even as I refused to look. If there was any hint of sadness or pity in his gaze, I thought I would crumble to pieces. He gestured to the left, to my father’s study.

I ran, already knowing what I’d find, but unwilling to accept the truth until I saw it with my own eyes.

The door was open, the first sign that something was amiss. In all my years, my father had never left it ajar. Its gaping maw threatened to swallow me whole as I barreled toward it. I froze at the scene inside.

Like something from a dream, the room I entered belonged to another world. There was the desk and the bookshelves, but nothing else aligned with my memory of the room. Gone were the haphazard stacks of research. Gone were the relics of a life gone by. The hardwood floor shone as if from a fresh mop. The shelves were neat and orderly, no book out of place. And seated at the great desk, not a scrap of paper upon its surface, was my father.

Well, my father’s soul.

“Katrin?” My father’s brows shot to his hairline. “What are you doing here? Where have you been? What’s happened to you?”

His questions slid off me like raindrops in a storm. I felt them land but paid them no heed as I stalked across the room.

“Father,” I started then paused, unable to find words for every emotion spilling from my heart. “How?”

It was the only question that mattered. Had I done this? Had I angered Death into taking my father prematurely? Or was it a coincidence that he should meet his end as I became entangled with Death?

His eyes grew distant, forehead creased in concentration. “I was sleeping, and then, I wasn’t.” He frowned. “I was more asleep than I’d ever been, and yet somehow, more awake, too. There was no pain. It didn’t feel like what I thought dying ought to feel like. It was like waking up to a different life.”

“And Mother?” The sour taste of fear coated my tongue, but I needed to know.

My father shook his head. “She’s fine—alive,” he amended.

His focus shifted over my shoulder, and I knew Evander had joined us.

“Can I see her?” I asked Evander. “Cansheseeme?” I heard the desperation in my own voice. I started to step around him, prepared to search the entire house if need be.

“She’s not here.” It was my father who answered.

My head whipped to him. “What? Where is she?”

The floor tilted, or maybe it was me. It only stopped when Evander’s hands gripped my arm, holding me steady against the raging current of emotions.

My father’s eyes dipped to that point of contact. When they lifted back to mine, there was no judgment, no reproach, though something like understanding flickered across his features. “She left to stay with her sister for a few days. She’s supposed to return tomorrow.”

“We can come back tomorrow night.” Evander’s words were a gentle murmur, too quiet for my father to hear. He meant to comfort but nothing chipped away at the wall of dread building in my chest.

I nodded—more for his benefit than my own.

“Your Grace,” Evander said, addressing my father.