Cressida’s POV The door had barely closed behind Lucian before the room fell into a crushing silence. None of us spoke. I watched Elara sink slowly onto the edge of the bed, her hands trembling so badly she could hardly keep them folded in her lap. Tears still clung to her lashes, though she seemed too exhausted to wipe them away. Alma let out a long breath she had clearly been holding. “I thought…” she whispered, placing a hand over her chest. “I truly thought he already knew everything.” “So did I,” I admitted quietly. No one spoke again for several moments. Outside the window, the last light of evening disappeared behind Blackstone’s towers, leaving the room bathed in the warm glow of oil lamps. Finally, Elara broke the silence. “He hates me.” Her voice was so small it barely sounded like her. I crossed the room immediately and knelt in front of her. “Don’t say that El. He doesn’t hate you” “Maybe he doesn’t right now. But once he finds out….once he fin
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