The night grew longer with the second hand of the clock ticking gently against the quietness that had enveloped the night. The crinkling sound of the crickets taking over from where the people had stopped.
In one of the rooms of Lord William lay Seraphina, whose breaths came in haggard pants. She tossed on the bed, shifting position every minute.
Past life. The thought that had evaded her mind that refused to let her eyes close came again as she tossed on the bed once more.
Is there such a thing as a past life? Seraphina questioned herself, the earlier conversation she had with Lancelot resurfacing in her memory.
If truly she had a past life and with him, what were the mistakes that she made that had caused her doom? The ones she was on the path of making again? What did all that mean? Mistakes that only marriage with Lancelot could save and also stop her from deviating to the same path?
