Chapter 13 · A Ghost from Ten Years Ago

"Alice. My sweet, little Alice."

That voice didn't just hit my ears. It sliced through me. I froze, back pressed against the cold stone of the garden wall, Silas’s hand still heavy on my waist.

I knew that voice. It belonged to a dead man. A man buried under six feet of dirt and ten years of nightmares.

I ripped myself away from Silas so fast I nearly tripped over my gown. Elegance be damned. I didn't care about the High Inquisitor’s confused stare. I just stared at the man stepping out of the weeping willows.

Same sharp jaw. Same arrogant tilt of the head. And those eyes—cold, silver eyes that looked like they’d seen the bottom of a grave.

Julian.

"What the hell is this?" Silas’s voice dropped an octave. His grip shifted from my waist to the hilt of his blade. He stepped in front of me, a sudden, oppressive wall of heat and steel. "Who are you to interrupt a restricted transport?"

Julian didn't even glance at him. His gaze was locked on me, tracing my throat, the tremble in my hands. He smiled. It was the most terrifying thing I'd seen all night—