THE GHOST OF A HUSBAND

Elara Vance

I was shivering, my teeth chattering so hard they ached, but the cold water of the well was nothing compared to the ice that flooded my veins when I saw him.

Caspian de Montfort.

He stood by the white and gold carriage, the afternoon sun catching the golden embroidery on his doublet. He looked exactly as he did the day he murdered me—handsome, polished, and utterly fake. In my past life, I had thought that smile was a gift from the heavens. Now, it looked like the bared teeth of a wolf.

Kaelen felt me stiffen in his arms. His grip tightened, his chest a solid, warm wall against my freezing back. He didn't stop walking. He walked toward the entrance, his boots heavy and rhythmic on the gravel path, forcing Caspian to step aside or be trampled.

"Duke Thorne," Caspian said, his voice smooth and melodic, like a well-tuned lute. He bowed gracefully, but his eyes were darting between Kaelen’s furious face and my drenched, shivering form. "I see you have already... made a splash upon your arrival. And who is this poor, drowned bird?"

Kaelen didn't return the bow. He didn't even slow down. "She is a lady of this house who was nearly murdered by a 'slippery' stone. Move, Montfort. You’re blocking the path."

Caspian’s smile flickered for a fraction of a second—a tiny crack in his mask that only I was looking for. He stepped back, his gaze landing on me. For a moment, our eyes met.

In that moment, I saw the man who had pried the ring off my dying finger. I saw the man who had whispered that I was a "boring doll." My vision blurred with a sudden, hot surge of rage, and for a second, the water on my face felt like it was boiling.

"Elara?" Caspian murmured, his voice sounding genuinely surprised. "Is that you? My goodness, the little girl I remember has grown... though you seem to have kept your habit of getting into trouble."

He knew me. Of course he did. Our fathers had been distant associates. But in my last life, he hadn't come to the Vance estate until I was eighteen. Why was he here now?

The timeline is breaking, I realized. My return has changed the ripples in the pond.

"I am not a girl, Lord Caspian," I rasped, my voice sounding hollow and metallic. "And I am no longer in the habit of letting things happen to me."

Kaelen let out a low, dark huff of amusement or perhaps it was a warning. He carried me past Caspian and into the main hall, where the servants were already scurrying about in a panic.

"Get hot water! Blankets! Now!" Kaelen’s voice echoed off the high ceilings like thunder.

My father and Beatrice came rushing from the dining room. My father’s jaw dropped at the sight of the Duke carrying his soaking-wet daughter, while Beatrice looked as though she had swallowed a lemon.

"What is the meaning of this?" my father stammered. "Elara? What happened?"

"Your daughter fell into the well," Kaelen said, his voice dropping to a dangerous level as he looked at Beatrice. "And your other daughter was the only one there to see it. I suggest you have a very long talk with Lyra about 'accidents,' Count Vance."

He didn't wait for an answer. He carried me all the way to my bedchamber, ignored the gasps of my lady’s maid, and set me down on the edge of the bed. He didn't leave immediately. He stood there, his own black cloak dripping onto my rug, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

"You knew he was there," Kaelen whispered, leaning down so only I could hear. "You didn't fall for me. You fell because you saw his carriage coming up the drive, didn't you?"

I looked up at him, my hair plastered to my face. I couldn't tell him the truth—that a magical Archivist had threatened to stop my heart. But I could give him a version of the truth.

"Caspian de Montfort is a snake, Your Grace," I whispered back. "I would rather drown in a well than let him see me as a weak, easy target."

Kaelen’s eyes searched mine. He reached out, his hand hovering near my face for a second before he pulled back, his jaw tight. "He is the King’s favorite negotiator. If he is here, it means the politics of this house are about to get very dirty."

He turned to leave, but stopped at the door. "The banquet is tomorrow. If you are not there, Elara, I will assume you have succumbed to the 'snakes.' And I have no use for allies who cannot survive a little water."

As he left, my maid, Martha, rushed in with a pile of warm furs and a basin of steaming water. "Oh, my Lady! You’re blue! Whatever happened?"

I let her strip away the freezing silk, but my mind was miles away. I needed to think. Caspian was here. Lyra was desperate. And I was tied to a Duke who was as suspicious as he was powerful.

Suddenly, a cold, familiar weight settled in the room. The candles flickered and died.

“Ting.”

The Archivist was standing in the corner of my room, his grey robes blending into the shadows. Martha was still there, scrubbing my arms with a warm cloth, but she was frozen in time—a statue of a worried servant.

"You survived the water, Little Crow," the Archivist said, his voice like grinding sand. "But the serpent has entered the nest earlier than expected."

"Why is he here?" I demanded, shivering under the furs. "He shouldn't be here for two more years!"

"Every choice you make creates a new thread," the Archivist replied. "You spoke to the Duke. You changed the balance of power. The 'Golden Knight' felt the shift and came to claim his prize before it could be stolen."

He stepped closer, his glowing eyes fixed on mine.

“Task Three: At the banquet tomorrow, you must humiliate Caspian de Montfort in front of the King’s envoy. He must be seen as a fool, not a suitor. If he leaves the banquet with his reputation intact, the red mark will spread to your lungs. You will find it very hard to breathe when your chest is filled with jasmine flowers.”

"How am I supposed to humiliate a man like him?" I hissed. "He’s perfect. Everyone loves him!"

"Everyone loves a mirror until they see the crack in the glass," the Archivist said.

He vanished, and the candles flared back to life. Martha continued her scrubbing as if nothing had happened. "There now, Lady Elara. You’re getting some color back."

I looked at the vanity mirror across the room. I didn't see a sixteen-year-old girl. I saw a hunter.

Caspian wanted the Vance fortune. He wanted the "doll." But tomorrow, I was going to show him that this doll had teeth. And I was going to make sure the Duke was watching when I bit.