They reached the gates of Moor Mansion just as the bells tolled once—noon.
The heavy doors of the Moor Mansion creaked open with slow grandeur, revealing the wide marble steps that led to its shadowed entrance.
The sky was still a gloomy gray, clouds thick like whispers overhead, but in Thalia's chest, a storm of emotion threatened to break forth like sun through the fog.
Sebastian walked beside her, expression unreadable. But she could feel him—how he had become so attuned to her moods she didn't even have to speak. He felt her anxiety. Her longing. Her pain.
The guards on duty barely looked up at first. One squinted as they approached, the same arrogant twist on his mouth as before. "Didn't we send you away this morning?"
Thalia didn't flinch. This time, she didn't ask. She didn't beg.
She dismounted with practiced ease, her tone calm and flat:
"We're with the guests your lord is currently harboring."
The effect was immediate.
