Alfred led Seraphina up the back stairs. The carpet here was thinner, the lighting dimmer.
"Your room, Miss," Alfred said, opening a door at the end of a long, drafty corridor.
It was a guest room, technically. But it was the one furthest from the family wing, right next to the linen closet and the service elevator. The view from the single window was of the industrial HVAC units and the back alley where the kitchen staff took smoke breaks.
"Father put me here?" Seraphina asked.
Alfred didn't meet her eyes. "Madam Eleanor suggested this room would be quieter. For your... readjustment."
Adjust. Code for "until you stop being an embarrassment."
Seraphina walked in. The room smelled of lavender sachets and underlying dampness. It was cold.
"It's fine," she said.
Alfred looked relieved. "I'll bring up a tray. The family has already dined."
He left.
Seraphina dropped her bag on the bed. She didn't mind the location. The energy here was stagnant, quiet. It was better than the chaotic noise of the main house.
She opened her bag. She took out a small wooden box. Inside were dried herbs-sage, mugwort, rosemary. She took out a piece of chalk.
She knelt on the floor and drew a small symbol under the bed. A grounding rune. To keep the nightmares out. Or to keep her power in.
The door opened. Harrison stood there. He looked around the room, and his face darkened.
"This is an insult," he said tightly. "I'm moving you to the East Wing."
"No," Seraphina said, standing up. "Leave it. I like the quiet."
Harrison walked over and grabbed her hands. His hands were warm. "You are a Sterling. You belong in the family suites."
"I am a Sterling by blood, Harrison. Not by habit. Let me breathe."
He looked at her, searching her face. He saw the resolve there. He sighed, defeated.
"Okay. But only for tonight."
He looked at the window. "Julian... he's an idiot. Don't let him get to you."
"He won't be bothering anyone tonight," Seraphina said.
Harrison frowned. "What do you mean?"
Seraphina walked to the window. She looked out at the darkening sky. She could see a faint glow in the distance, toward the highway. Flashing lights. Red and blue.
The phone in Harrison's pocket buzzed. Then it buzzed again. And again.
He pulled it out. He looked at the screen. His face went pale.
"It's the police," he whispered.
Seraphina didn't turn around. She placed her hand against the cold glass. She felt the vibration of the crash miles away. The metal twisting. The scream cut short.
"Go," she said.
