Page 110 of Bound By Crimson

“But?” Rowan asked, not missing a beat.

Lyric paused. “But nothing. I just—I don’t know. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Lyric.”

She sighed. “His mom. She just… I don’t know. She seems off. Not rude, not even mean. Just cold. Like she hasn’t decided yet if I belong here.”

Rowan didn’t even hesitate. “Once she gets to know you, she’ll absolutely love you.”

“I hope so,” Lyric said quietly. “She has rules… Kai and I aren’t allowed to sleep in the same room until we’re married…”

“What??—but you’re having his baby!” Rowan blurted, then quickly changed tone so she didn’t upset Lyric. “Well, I’m sure your prince charming will change that very soon and you will become Mrs. Thorn in no time!”

Lyric wanted to tell her.

She wanted to spill everything. That Thorn isn’t his real last name. Kai isn’t even his real first name.Malachai Thornwick.

But she didn’t. She was still processing it all herself.

Instead, Lyric agreed. “He left for town today. I think he might be buying me a ring.”

Rowan squealed. “I’m so happy for you, Lyr! Tell me everything when it happens!”

They talked a few more moments, then said their goodbyes.

Lyric stayed out there for a minute longer, letting the quiet wrap around her.

Then she turned to head back toward the house, slowly making her way around the side of the hedge maze.

As the branches thinned and the upper windows came into view, she glanced up, checking if Mrs. Thornwick was still watching her. Thankfully, she wasn’t.

She walked the rest of the way back with her head down, pretending the chill she felt had nothing to do with the window at all.

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Dinner that evening was silent at first.

The long table felt colder with only two plates.

Kai still hadn’t returned.

Mrs. Thornwick poured herself wine with a sharp clink and gestured for Lyric to sit.

Her posture was perfect.

Her eyes, calculating.

“Did you enjoy your little stroll today, dear?” she asked, the smile never reaching her voice.

“Yes, thank you. I walked the garden a bit. It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” she agreed. “But beauty requires upkeep. Things left untended tend to rot.”

Lyric hesitated, choosing her words carefully.

“I’d be happy to help with anything you need,” she said, trying to sound warm, not defensive.

“Mmm.” The woman tilted her head.