The sprawling gardens were utterly devoid of sound, swallowed by a dead, heavy silence broken only by the synchronized, sharp clicks of their boots against the stone path. Minutes had bled away since she stepped down from her carriage, yet neither of them had spoken. The quiet between them was not peaceful; it was a taut, vibrating wire ready to snap and draw blood.
Waiting for her beneath the cold bleeding of the moonlight was Cedric. When his pitch-black eyes caught sight of her figure, he extended his hand—a silent, heavy command wrapped in a plea.
Olivia did not hesitate. She placed her cold, bare hand firmly in his, noting how his fingers instantly tightened, crushing her knuckles just enough to feel the bone; a muted reminder of who held the physical power here.
"You truly came," Cedric whispered, his voice vibrating with a dangerous mixture of disbelief and pure, starved reverence.
