As thunder pealed through the reception, Sullivan’s hand shot out before thought could stop him.

  He swung Aleiya’s chair to face him, the legs scraping across the floor.

  He cupped her cheek.

  Pulled her back to the surface.

  Forced her to focus on him and forget whatever shadows lurked beneath the waves. Hot tears soaked into his silk glove, mingling with the sharp burn of alcohol beneath.

  Aleiya, as if seized from the depths of darkness, gasped for air.

  Her hands instinctively grabbed the arms of the chair as she was swung around to face her new husband. Her eyes darted frantically, searching all corners of her vision. Each steadying breath brought clarity, the world around her gradually came back into focus.

  For a moment, she thought she was still home. Still high above the silverwood trees where endless twilight sparkled across lilac leaves. But the memory of her room had her slip from Sullivan’s grasp to plunge back into deep despair once more.

  Sullivan saw the light return to her eyes—only to flicker, as fragile as a dying ember. He pulled her chair closer.

  “Look at me.”

  His command cut clean through the disorienting fog, sharp and inescapable—an almost soothing caress. Not because his words were comforting, but because there was something—someone—that could overtake the noise and keep her afloat.

  She took in a few more breaths of air, the sensation calming her racing heart. Her eyes looked directly into Sullivan’s. His furrowed brow and hard, disconcerted stare anchored her, but still she was filled with reticent dread.

  What did he just see?

  Aleiya’s rapid blinks chased the tears and the confusion away. He had seen too much. He already knows too much.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  With a shake of her head, she forced herself to pull away from his firm caress. She couldn’t bear the unspoken questions he held in his gaze. Like he wanted to open her up and study each sinew between her ribs.

  The warmth from his hand lingered on her tear-streaked cheek. She quickly wiped whatever remnants of fear from her eyes before that eerily calm stillness cloaked her once again.

  All that he had witnessed, the clandestine joy, the quiet horror, now gone in one fluid motion—the transition too smooth.

  Replaced by the vacant melancholy of a prim and pretty little doll.

  It wasn’t often that Sullivan was shaken from his unassailable perch, but his head was spinning from the emotional whiplash. His wife had somehow proven his initial impression of her wasn’t just wrong—but deceptively shallow.

  What exactly was going on in that little head of hers?

  He would ask, but, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t once heard her speak. She had never uttered a single word. Even at the altar her “I do” was nothing more than a nod. A detail he overlooked at the time, wanting the whole ordeal to be over, but now seemed out of place.

  Her silence was a little too perfect, a little too eerie.

  The kind of silence that could never last.

  Just out of the corner of Sullivan’s eye, nosy gossips had turned their sloshed but curious gazes towards the couple. All in the Great Hall could sense the sudden tension, an interruption of their indulgence, and like vultures they wanted to circle the cause. Some even made moves to approach the table.

  Couldn’t have that.

  He needed the illusion of romance to remain intact.

  Without missing a beat, Sullivan moved intimately close to Aleiya, propping an arm on the table—a tight fist curled against it, a silent decree of force—his lips now caressing the ear closest to the crowd.

  He stood as an impenetrable wall between hyenas and a trembling fawn.

  Let them gawk, let them weave foolish fantasies of romance—none would dare to breach his domain. And just to craft for them the perfect illusion, he let gloved fingers drift from her jaw, tracing a slow, methodical possession down her arm, molding the mirage with each calculated stroke before lifting her hand to his lips.

  As a butterfly’s kiss pecked the peak of her knuckles, Sullivan whispered, “Don’t move until the rats scatter.”

  She nodded, allowing his touch, heeding his command. This is what she was good at. To become invisible. To be as unseen as a speck on a pile of sand.

  A small twitch invaded Sullivan’s eye with stoic irritation.

  Still not a single word.

  “Tell me, Princess,” his voice dropped a subtle octave; it was smoother, more inviting, but the sharp bite of his teeth framed his question. “What distressed you so?”

  Distressed?

  It was nothing she could explain. Not that he would care anyway. She wasn’t meant to feel, she was meant to be pretty and posable.

  With a gentle shake of her head, Aleiya dismissed the question entirely. She pulled away from Sullivan just enough so he could see her face. A soft and delicate smile graced her lips, as if to chase away his examination of her. But the dainty, cheerful gesture never reached the curve of her eyes.

  A doll that mimicked human emotion.

  Aleiya hoped and prayed he would ignore her as he always had. Life was much easier when she was ignored and overlooked. His sudden interest and undivided attention was already far too much for her to bear.

  ‘Unsee me.’ She thought. ‘Unknow me.’