Chapter 4 - The Rotunda of Shadows
The blue light streaming through the rotunda was cold, smelling faintly of ozone and wet cedar from the mountain forest outside. As the heavy oak doors of the ballroom slammed shut behind them, cutting off the muted hum of the shocked aristocracy, the silence of the estate’s east wing descended like a heavy curtain.
Clara’s legs finally gave out.
She collapsed against the polished mahogany wainscoting of the corridor, her breath coming in short, jagged hitches that rattled her chest. Her lace apron hung torn at her side, and her half-severed hair was a chaotic fringe of copper falling over her pale face.
Daniel dropped to one knee beside her, abandoning all traces of his cold, aristocratic dominance. His hands, usually so steady and lethal, hovered over her shoulders with frantic hesitation.
"Clara," he murmured, his voice stripped of all authority, replaced by a raw, bleeding desperation. "Look at me. Did she hurt you anywhere else?"
Clara shook her head violently, her hands remaining glued to her lower abdomen. "The... the baby, Daniel," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper, terrified that the stone walls themselves might be listening. "She pushed me down... near the pantry stairs before she brought me out to the hall. I fell on my side."
Daniel’s face went corpse-pale. His gray eyes flared with an unholy, terrifying light. He reached out, his hand gently resting over her small fingers where they clutched her stomach.
"Is there pain?" he asked, his voice shaking.
"Just... just cramping," she sobbed, pressing her forehead against his shoulder, wetting his black silk lapel with her tears. "She knows, Daniel. Victoria knows. She didn't cut my hair because I went to the lodge... she cut it to mark me. She called me a breeder. She said the Vance bloodline wouldn't be contaminated by a beggar’s daughter."
Daniel closed his eyes, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle pulsed violently near his ear. He pulled Clara tight against his chest, his large hand cradling the back of her head, protecting her ruined hair against his neck.
"She doesn't know everything," Daniel whispered into her ear, his tone dropping into a dark, vows-like resolve. "She thinks you're just a maid I took a liking to. She has no idea about the register in London. She has no idea you are my lawful wife."
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Clara pulled back slightly, her wide, green eyes searching his face. "If she finds out... if your father’s lawyers find out before the estate transfers on your thirty-fifth birthday..."
"They won't," Daniel said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the lock of copper hair he had taken from Victoria. He looked at the severed braid in his palm, his expression darkening into something lethal. "Tonight was Victoria's last mistake. She wanted a spectacle. I am going to give her a war."
