Chapter 6: AFTER THE RUIN HE PROMISED

The corridor outside felt colder than before. Maybe I was just overheated from what had just happened. The sound of his breath in the dark, the way he said "Your voice will ruin me," and the unsettling truth that I wanted to ruin him all lingered in my mind.

I pressed my back to the door after it closed. I needed something solid to keep me upright.

His voice had been low enough to feel against my skin. His hand had hovered close enough to spark every nerve in my body.

He hadn’t kissed me. He hadn’t even touched me properly, but it felt like he had touched me everywhere.

I forced myself to walk. I started slowly, then moved faster, hoping that distance might help steady my breath. My chest still rose too quickly, too shallowly, as if my body hadn’t caught up to what had happened or what almost did.

"Before I take more than your voice tonight."

His warning came as a threat wrapped in velvet.

A promise wrapped in danger.

I reached the landing of the east stairwell when someone stepped from the shadows.

"Miss Wynn."

I flinched. Silas Thorn stood half-hidden by a stone archway, arms crossed, posture relaxed. But his eyes weren't relaxed. They burned with questions he clearly wasn’t sure he could ask.

"You frightened me," I said softly.

"My apologies." His voice was low and controlled. "I waited to make sure you returned safely."

Safe from whom? The question loomed unspoken.

Avel hadn’t touched me improperly, but he had touched me deeply.

Silas looked at me closely. "You look… flushed."

"I was singing," I said quickly.

"I’m aware." His gaze sharpened slightly. "It carried farther than he intended."

My cheeks reddened. "He asked me to."

"Yes," Silas murmured. "He would."

Those words were quiet but heavy with meaning. Jealousy? No, not jealousy. Something more complicated. Something closer to fear.

"Silas…" I hesitated. "Why does he—why me?"

He took a slow breath, choosing his words carefully. "The Lord is not someone who easily swayed. When something grabs his attention…" His eyes dropped to the choker. "He holds on tight."

Silas looked back up. "Did he treat you with respect?"

The question caught me off guard. "Yes. He’s been… exacting. Intense." I swallowed. "But not unkind."

Silas let out a breath, tension easing from his shoulders. "Good."

"But?" I asked gently.

"But," he said, stepping a fraction closer, "the Lord's interest is never simple."

His nearness felt different from Avel’s.

Avel’s presence consumed the air.

Silas’ steadied it.

Silas’ jaw tightened. "Be careful. There are things in this place that warm up when they shouldn’t."

A slight tremor went through me.

He extended an arm but didn’t touch me. "Allow me to escort you?"

The offer steadied me more than his arm could have.

"Yes," I replied softly.

He guided me down the stairwell, matching my pace. He stayed half a step ahead, shielding me from unseen threats.

"What do you do here, exactly?" I asked.

"I manage the Lord's affairs," he replied.

"All of them?"

His faint smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Not the ones he keeps to himself."

I wondered which ones those were.

When we reached the hallway to my room, he paused.

"You should rest," he said. "Tomorrow will be… challenging."

"In what way?"

His expression darkened. "Because now everyone knows he has noticed you, and they will adjust their ambitions accordingly."

A chill ran down my spine.

He lowered his voice. "And because he does nothing halfway, Miss Wynn." Silas leaned in slightly. "Whatever he starts with you… he intends to see through."

The heat that rushed through me at those words was embarrassingly quick.

"I should go," I whispered.

"Yes," Silas said quietly. "Before he finds a reason to summon you again tonight."

My breath caught.

Silas bowed his head slightly and stepped back into the corridor’s dimness, fading like a shadow at dusk.

I closed the door and only then did my knees weaken.

---

Sleep did not come easily.

Not because of fear.

Because of memory.

Avel’s breath brushed softly against my ear. His voice was dark velvet, wrapped around a command. His fingers hovered near my throat, not touching, yet unraveling me more effectively than any real touch could.

I turned over beneath the thin blanket, heat unfurling low in my stomach. Every breath reminded me of him adjusting my bodice, loosening the laces until my lungs expanded as if they belonged to someone braver, someone bolder.

"You are here to obey me."

Those words should have horrified me. Instead, they echoed through my ribs like a song.

I pulled the blanket over my head and tried to will my body to still.

It didn’t work.

Not with his voice still brushing through my mind.

Not with the opera creaking as if listening to my breath.

Not with tomorrow waiting like an outstretched hand into darkness.

---

Past midnight, a sound woke me up. A shift of weight outside the door. A pause. A presence.

Not Silas. Not Madame Elladine.

Something quieter. Darker. Familiar.

Footsteps stopped outside my room.

My breath froze.

A shadow slid beneath the doorframe—tall, still, unmistakable.

Avel.

But he didn’t knock. He didn’t call my name. He didn’t enter. He just stood there, listening. Confirming something—my breath, my wakefulness, my obedience.

A test. One he must have known I’d feel.

I sat perfectly still in the dark.

He did too.

Then—soft, barely audible—his voice slipped through the wood of the door.

"Goodnight, Miss Wynn."

I held back a shiver.

Then he was gone.

No footsteps. No fading shadow. Just absence. But absence could feel like a touch, too.

Sleep claimed me only in fractured pieces after that.

I dreamed of moonlight on black velvet, of hands guiding without touching, and of a voice that commanded through knowledge: knowledge of where to press, where to loosen, where to breathe.