whisper Beneath the silk

One: T

ed with a wax seal the

iliar script curling like ivy across the thick parchment. Her name-just her name-had been inke

lyn

it knew precisely who she w

t to tear the paper. A single sheet folded inside, cr

ivate collection of vintage gowns. All travel arrangements have been made. Compensa

nmoor

w she'd been found-or why she'd been ch

r grasp. Outside the rain skittered against her attic window like restles

ken once, years ago, in hushed tones at a gallery party in South Kensington, passed between two antique dealers who shared smirks over crystal glasses. The

ph of her mother, laughing in the summer light. Her life had grown so small in recent years-reduced to fabric, thread, and the s

alle

yst

ay

and packed a small bag be

-

marshes and thickets, each mile carrying her further from the echoing streets of London. She wore her mother's wool coat and a

. Just a platform with cracked stone tiles and

th the sea. He wore a driver's cap an

" she

is

r film. Inside, the seats smelled of leather and salt. They drove for nearly a

ly appeared through t

Iron turrets pierced the sky. Crimson silk banners-torn by time-fluttered from stone balconies. The

he pulled into the arched c

od at the

able. Immaculate in black, with silver-threaded cuffs and a face carved from som

, voice low and prec

choice," she said, befor

hed, as if mildly amused.

tered the manor.

estries and portraits so lifelike they seemed to blink when she passed. But what drew her breath away was the staircase-a double

ing," Alaric said, not looking back. "The dres

gowns?" s

'll

oom lined with mannequins. Dozens of them. All draped in silence and dust. A

forward. Her

.. perf

s narrow, the bodice structured with antique boning, and at the hem, tiny rubies had been sti

aric said from behind her. "S

You're giving me

said, eyes unreadable. "What

ere, alone wit

-

ee: Threads

d without being ordered. Candles never seemed to melt. She worked in near silence, pulling dre

d day that she fou

e lining of

ed tightly, stained with s

'd bury me in the walls.

illed. She read i

ora? A maid? A lover? Wa

the coat. In the sleev

remember. Th

-

int, Evelyn

ut with wax. In a capelet, a needle rusted dark with age. The clues were minute, but t

had been watching. Waiting. Writing her truth into silk

e feeling that the house was

-