CHAPTER 64
Isabella's eyes were blown wide, the pupils swallowing the golden-colored irises until they looked like twin pools of ink.
She was trembling so violently thinking back at the cold red eyes of that man. Lucian's grip tightened on her, pulling her back hat she wasn't alone anymore.
Quickly she tried composing herself, she couldn't let Lucain know that someone saw her, it would be the end of her ears.
"Nothing," Isabella choked out, her voice thin and high-pitched. She forced her fingers to loosen their grip on his coat, though the chill of those crimson eyes still felt like a blade against her skin.
"I... I just got dizzy. The blood, it—it makes everything so sharp, Lucian. I thought I saw a butterfly. A white one, right against the glass. I just wanted to see it."
The lie felt pathetic even as it left her lips. A butterfly. In the biting evening air of the North, where even the birds seemed to have fled the encroaching winter.
