The ceiling above her was too smooth, too perfect without a single crack. In fact, it wasn't hers. The room atmosphere was drizzly and cold here.
But then it hit her all at once.
Marcella snapped her eyes open, jolting upright as the realization sank in.
Dark wood-paneled walls, velvet drapes drawn halfway over narrow windows. It was dark in here, lit only by a couple of lanterns. She was lying on a narrow velvet chaise, not a bed, and the blanket pulled over her had a sigil stitched in silver thread near the hem.
Her skin was hot and clammy as she struggled to catch her breath. She rubbed her eyes. The events of the night felt like a dream.
But they weren't. It had happened and now she was here.
Not the Valemont estate.
Definitely not the church.
Marcella touched her stomach, just to make sure--
"You are safe here." His deep, gravelly voice rolled over like a velvety caress.
Marcella turned her head too fast that made the room go spinning.
