Chapter 15

They walked down a short corridor and paused in front of a heavy oak door with intricately carved designs. The latch was an old brass contraption that had not been updated like other parts of the house. It was stiff when Mikhail gave it a jerking twist with his hands. She guessed that most people would have taken a home like this and done their best to update everything so it was new and modern, but Mikhail hadn't. His home was ancient. The stones by the window were covered in moss, and the walls were thick enough that the roar of the sea outside couldn't slip between the cracks and stones, though the windows were still a problem. It was a place that filled one's mind with dreams of days long past and the lives people might have once lived. The house was a haunting place full of surreal beauty.

The wooden door opened, and Mikhail led her inside. A four-poster bed sat on a small dais, with blue-gold brocade curtains draped over the bed, shadowing it from the light of the chandelier.

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