Page 50 of The Dravenhearst Brides

Dear Diary,

All that I am is blood and bone bound together with longing. Perhaps that’s the problem—perhaps life cannot grow inside a person so ravenous.

I devour my dreams. I must not deserve them.

—Excerpt, the diary of Eleanor Dravenhearst

Margot was running through the manor on bare feet.

“Catch me, Margot! Catch me!”

His giggle just ahead, just beyond the next corner…she was so close.

She burst around it, reaching with both arms. For the dozenth time, they swung through empty air.

“Catch me, Margot!”

She spun, her panting breaths fogging before her. The hallway was frigid. Her mouth was dry, growing frost. Tiny, sharp crystals sprouted on her tongue.

She took off through the labyrinthine corridors of the house, losing herself. She knew the way…but also not. Hallways lengthened. Doors moved. Shadows shifted, staircases rolled underfoot. She stumbled more than once, bruising her knees, but she was homing in.

Behind the next door, Eli’s laughter. She’d know the sound anywhere.

It had been so long.

She was positively parched.

She stepped forward and opened the door.

“Tea, dearie?”

Margot licked her lips and reached.