CHAPTER 31
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the scent of lavender and the metallic tang of Isabella's half-finished brew.
Isabella's hand trembled, the stone cup clinking against her teeth as she took a shaky breath. She looked at Lucian, waiting for him to object, to say that Clara was exaggerating, or that he would never let that happen.
But fuck, he remained perfectly still on the velvet couch. His eyes were fixed on the blue flames of the hearth, his profile as cold and immovable as a statue.
He wasn't surprised. He had known. "You knew," Isabella whispered, the realization cutting deeper than any of the injuries she'd sustained in the woods.
"You brought me here knowing that 'fixing' this meant hollowing me out." Lucian finally turned his head.
His crimson eyes were dark, "I brought you here to find a solution. Clara is prone to dramatics."
"Dramatics?" Clara let out a sharp, mocking laugh as she began grinding silver powder in a mortar.
