Elena POV
I jolted awake, gasping for air.
The phantom scent of peaches was gone.
In its place, the room reeked of antiseptic and old dust.
My chest was on fire—a sharp, stabbing pain radiating down my left arm.
I sat up, clutching the sheets, sweat trickling down my back.
It was just a dream.
A cruel, vivid ghost of a memory haunting the edges of my mind.
I swung my legs out of bed and moved to the vanity.
My hands trembled as I pried opened the velvet jewelry box.
The silver ring was there.
I picked it up.
It felt bitingly cold against my skin.
I slid it onto my finger, but my hands had grown so thin from the sickness that it spun loosely.
It didn't fit anymore.
Nothing fit anymore.
A soft rap echoed from the door.
I quickly pulled the ring off and dropped it back into the box.
"Come in," I rasped.
The door opened.
Mia stood silhouetted against the hallway light.
She was wearing a silk robe that belonged to the guest suite.
Her eyes were wide, rimmed with fear.
In her hand, she clutched the silver locket.
"Cousin Elena?" she whispered.
I turned to face her, pulling my own robe tighter around my frail frame.
"It's late, Mia. What's wrong?"
She stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind her.
She held the locket out to me.
Her hand was trembling.
"I opened it," she said. "I know I shouldn't have. But I wanted to see the picture."
My heart hammered against my ribs.
"And?"
"The picture is water damaged," she said. "You can't see the faces. But the engraving on the back... it's still clear."
She looked at me, her eyes filling with tears.
"E & D."
She took a breath that sounded dangerously like a sob.
"The guards... I heard them whispering in the kitchen. They spoke of Arthur... but they called him Dante. They said he was married. They said the Donna was heartbroken."
She took a step closer.
"E is for Elena. Isn't it?"
I didn't answer.
I couldn't.
"It's you," she whispered, the realization settling heavily between us. "You aren't his cousin. You're his wife."
