Night fell. Moonlight spilled through the open window, casting pale light across the long darkwood table. Eloise sat beside Mary. Across from them were Maxwell and Anthony, who had arrived moments earlier to hear about the rope incident. At the head of the table, Mckenna nursed a cup of wine, his fingers trailing slowly over the rim.
The candlelight burned low, flickering shadows on their faces. The air was thick, so heavy it felt like it could crack the wine glasses.
The table was set with roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and other dishes. Cutlery rested neatly beside the plates, yet no one moved to eat.
Until Eloise, fed up with the silence, grabbed a fork and stabbed a piece of meat.
"Blast it all," she muttered. "How was I supposed to know he wasn't the husband?"
Beside her, Mary tensed. She glanced apologetically across the table, but Maxwell only stared blankly at the roasted meat in front of him, completely ignoring her. Anthony blinked, unsure what shocked him more—the scene or the girl who dared speak to the judge of the afterlife like that.
"Maybe if you didn't look so suspicious, I wouldn't have tied you," Eloise muttered.
Mary snapped her head toward her, eyes wide. "Eloise!"
"What?" Eloise met her gaze, like she was daring Mary to pick a side.
Mary sighed and turned to the guests, offering a small bow. "You must forgive my friend. That's... her way of apologizing for the mistake."
Maxwell said nothing. He didn't even look up, just frowned at the slightly burnt meat while McKenna sipped his wine, clearly enjoying the tension at the table.
Mary, knowing this wouldn't do, quickly picked up her fork. "Why don't we all eat, so the food doesn't go to waste?"
Thankfully, Anthony and the others reached for their cutlery. But Maxwell paused, holding his fork midway like he wasn't sure how to proceed. Mary noticed and thought he was still upset, so she spoke again.
"McKenna never told me about you," she said with a bright smile. "It's a pleasure to have you here."
"It's rare that I visit," Maxwell muttered, stabbing into a piece of meat.
The sound echoed through the room. All eyes turned to him.
Anthony coughed and quickly downed a glass of wine, glancing sideways at the judge, wondering if he would actually eat the meat. Because right now, Maxwell was staring at it like it had offended him—like he could kill it, even though it was already dead.
"Then you must live very far away," Mary said with a smile.
"Far enough," McKenna replied instead, biting into the meat without looking up.
"Far enough not to react when someone tied him up," Eloise muttered, stabbing at another piece of meat. Her hand trembled slightly as she shoved it into her mouth, chewing hurriedly while glaring across the table at the white-haired man. Mary nudged her.
"Eloise, that's not very kind. You need to apologize."
"No, I won't," she said, tilting her head and shooting Mary a sharp look. "What? I'm the bad one now? I thought he kidnapped you. Brought you into this gloomy place. Took you away from your family, from Mama... from me. I had to act!"
She huffed, crossed her arms, and leaned back in the chair. The tension spread again before Anthony finally spoke.
"She acted, alright."
"You roped my uncle," McKenna said flatly, raising a napkin to his mouth. He glanced at the fierce, dark-haired girl and shook his head. But the moment he said that, she shot him a glare—one even his wife wouldn't dare give him.
"Well, you married my best friend without telling a soul, without anyone knowing who you are. Forgive me for being cautious," she snapped.
Finally, Maxwell dropped the fork without touching the meat and looked up at her. She was still fuming, he could see her little nose flaring like a dragon's.
"You should be more cautious next time. That rope nearly triggered something you don't understand."
Eloise lowered her head, gave him a defeated look, then scoffed. "Well then, maybe you should explain. Uncle?"
The air thickened again. Maxwell's face remained calm, but Eloise felt that coldness creeping in as his eyes locked on hers.
Mary, sensing the tension, quickly stepped in. "Eloise, please… don't cause trouble."
Eloise sighed and turned to Mary. Her voice was gentle, but her eyes stayed sharp.
"I'm not causing trouble. I'm trying to understand—because you've changed, Mary. You've grown so quiet, more pale… and you live in a house that gives me the creeps."
Mary said nothing. She quickly looked away from her friend and stared down at her plate, whispering,
"I just wanted to be free."
Eloise blinked, her chest tightening. She remembered what Mary had told her. Her shoulders slumped.
Of course she couldn't blame her. This was the only way to escape marrying that old man. But she hated it—hated that they had no say in a society that deemed women unfit to choose their fate.
"Freedom comes with a price," Maxwell said suddenly.
McKenna stiffened slightly and gave him a side glance. Anthony sighed and looked away. But Eloise was glaring at him.
"And so do secrets," she shot back.
Anthony turned to her, a little surprised by her bluntness. Then he glanced at the judge and caught a flicker of displeasure cross his face—a rare sight, considering Maxwell barely reacted to anything.
He stood and reached across the table for the wine glass. When he spoke, his voice came out a touch too high-pitched for his usual confident tone.
"Would anyone like wine? Or perhaps poison?" No one looked at him.
"No? Just me?"
"Anthony," Maxwell called, still not looking his way.
Anthony gave a stiff bow. "Apologies, my Lord....uncle's Lord—I mean, Maxwell… sir… sir judge—I mean, Judge Sir."
He nearly dropped the wine bottle.
"Sit down, Anthony. You're sweating on my food," Maxwell said, deadpan.
Anthony nodded quickly, placed the bottle down with shaking hands, and sat back in silence.
Eloise stared at Anthony. "Why are you scared of him? He's just a man."
Anthony's eyes widened. "He's not a man. He's…"
He glanced at Maxwell, felt the cold shift in the air, and clamped his mouth shut so fast it made a sound.
"Do finish your sentence, Anthony," Maxwell said, voice dry.
Anthony let out a nervous laugh and picked up a fork to steady his shaking hand. "I was going to say you're not a madman. That's clearly what I meant."
He shoved a piece of meat into his mouth and shot McKenna a pleading look, but McKenna only smirked back at him.
Eloise scoffed, looked around the table, then turned back to Maxwell. "You're so dramatic. You'd think I murdered someone instead of tying you up with a rope."
Anthony choked. "Sweet moonlight, she has a death wish."
Mary rubbed Eloise's hand under the table, trying to calm her. But aside from the way her chest rose and fell, she had no idea what her friend might say next.
"Pardon, sir," she said with a generous smile.
For a moment, the table fell silent—but not as tense as before. Then Maxwell spoke.
"We will be leaving."
Anthony blinked. "We?"
He had hoped to stay longer, especially since the back-and-forth between the judge and the fierce girl was quite the show. But when he caught Maxwell's deadpan stare, he quickly nodded.
"Of course. We'll be leaving."
"Well, thank heavens," Eloise muttered, chewing on a piece of baked bread.
Mary ignored her and leaned forward, eyes wide. "But it's late. Why don't you stay the night?"
"Don't worry, Mary. We love night travels," Anthony said, waving a hand.
Still uneasy, Mary turned to McKenna. "You'll let them leave?"
McKenna blinked, giving her an innocent look. It almost felt like she was accusing him with those hot glares.
"Well, if they want to, I can't stop them."
Mary pouted, then looked up. "Will you visit again?"
"He doesn't visit much," McKenna said calmly. "And when he does, he ends up tied by my wife's friend."
Mary's face flushed pink. "I do apologize for my friend, sir."
Maxwell glanced at Eloise. She met his gaze hotly. When he spoke, his voice was soft, almost like he was speaking only to her.
"It is… forgotten, for now."
Then suddenly…
The candles flickered violently. One snuffed out, dimming the room, and a goblet tipped over, spilling wine across the table.
Both girls blinked at the sudden eeriness.
"What the bloody hell!" Eloise raised a shaky glass of water to her lips. After downing it, she leaned toward Mary and whispered, "I told you this place gives me the creeps."
"I'm sure it's just the wind," Mary said, trying to sound calm. But even her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.
Unknown to them, the three men were watching Mary closely–especially Maxwell, whose gaze lingered.
A smoke-like shadow had begun to circle her.
He couldn't tell yet if it was death or simply an ominous presence. But something about her felt off.
And until he understood what it was, he wouldn't act.