Archive of Our Own ^beta

An angry groan left her mouth and Aelin slumped her head on the desk.

“Not having fun, princess?”

Aelin would recognize that voice anywhere. Rowan Whitethorn.

“What’s the school quarterback doing in detention?” Aelin asked snarkily, not even bothering to lift her head.

“Apparently punching students is frowned upon.”

Aelin snorted. “I didn’t take you for the violent type, Whitethorn. What got into you?” She sent a smirk his way, turning her head just enough that she didn’t have to sit up to see him.

He grinned. “No reason, really. I was just under the impression they couldn’t put us in detention on the last day.”

Aelin laughed. She and Rowan had a sort of mutual respect in that each one was popular, sporty, and interested in partying. Not that either would ever admit it to anyone, most especially each other. As far as anyone else knew, they were just two students who didn’t like or dislike the other.

And as far as the other was concerned, they had their own little feud going. Not for any particular reason, simply because Rowan seemed to have a talent for getting on Aelin’s nerves, and he felt he could say the same.

Rowan’s gaze flicked up to the doorway. “What are you doing here?” His voice was extremely amused. He didn’t sound so surprised, either.

Aelin turned her head, still resting it on the desk. Lorcan Salvaterre was taking a seat, his usual frown apparent on his face.

The frown transformed into a slight smile. That was about as amused as the man ever got. And he was a man—Lorcan had been held back twice, making him twenty. He was finally graduating, as were the rest of them.

“Beat up some little shit that was getting on my nerves.” Lorcan sure as hell sounded like the classic bully right now, but Aelin knew that wasn’t the case. He only got into fights with people who deserved it, and never with anyone unable to defend themselves.

He also happened to be Rowan’s best friend—an unusual relationship for the football MVP and the school bad boy.

He and Aelin had, at the very least, a casual acquaintanceship after the many detentions they’d spent tossing a paper ball back and forth when the teacher left the room or playing pranks on their supervisor. They both had a knack for getting into trouble.

“What did you do, Galathynius?”

Aelin grinned up at Lorcan. “I super-glued all of Mr. Wayne’s stationary to the ceiling.”

Rowan snorted beside her. “And you got caught?”

“No, he asked who did it and I couldn’t help but take responsibility. He’s my last class and I didn’t think they could keep me here, after all. The look on his face was so worth it, though.”

Lorcan chuckled. Before he could say anything else, Mrs. Brannon, the teacher in charge of detention, walked in, another student behind her.

Aelin gasped and jolted up into a sitting position. “Ellie, what did you do?”

Elide Lochan, Aelin’s best friend, was trailing behind Mrs. Brannon with a red face and a timid expression. Elide had never had detention before—not once. She just shrugged helplessly.

Mrs. Brannon frowned disapprovingly. “Miss Lochan decided it was appropriate to yell at Kaltain Rompier.”

“And why isn’t Kaltain in here?” Aelin demanded, always protective of Elide.

“Because, Miss Galathynius, Kaltain wasn’t yelling.” Bullshit. Or maybe Kaltain had just been rude quietly. There was no way Elide would start something like that. She was Aelin’s better half, as the two liked to joke.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Mrs. Brannon thought to add stiffly, as if she hadn’t just told them Elide’s crime in the first place.

Elide, red as a tomato, silently took a seat beside Aelin, casting the men a wary glance. Elide was one of the bravest people Aelin knew, but around other people she could come off as very shy.

Mrs. Brannon gave the whole group a scowl and said, “Detention’s only an hour today. I don’t want to spend the last day of school watching over a bunch of hooligans. And if Mr. Mullins asks, I was in here the whole time.” With that, she exited the room and shut the door, locking it behind her. She was probably off to mope about her life choices or steal a sip from the flask she kept hidden in the staff room. The students were more than willing to tell Mr. Mullins, the principal, that she was watching over them the whole time, as no one actually wanted her there.

As soon as the sound of heels clicking on the tile receded, Aelin turned to Elide.

“What did that bitch say to you?”

Elide winced, fidgeting with the hem of her short skirt. “She said you were a bitch who was only interested in partying and getting laid and I’d be better off without you.”

“Well that’s all true,” Aelin replied, her lips twitching slightly. Loyal Elide had been defending her honor.

Rowan let out a strangled laugh at Aelin’s agreement to Kaltain’s statement. She sent him a glare.

Elide and Aelin had a similar friendship as Rowan and Lorcan in that most people would expect them to stay in their own social circles rather than be friends. Elide was not Lorcan’s equivalent as Aelin and Rowan could be considered, however; she was nerdy and sweet and the smartest person Aelin knew. She also had a bit of a crush on Lorcan, though it was only Aelin’s detecting skills that led her to believe this little tidbit of information. Every time she mentioned it, Elide’s skin turned fuchsia and she refused to speak. Aelin found it adorable.

They all made small talk for a few minutes. Asking what everyone’s plans were for college and such. Elide had gotten a full scholarship to the most exclusive engineering program at Terrasen University. Aelin was also going there, though not in such glory. She’d played volleyball and participated in the debate club throughout high school. She also did surprisingly well in calc. This was enough to get her an expensive spot next to Elide.

Rowan made it in Doranelle University, a fairly prestigious college nearby both their current school and Terrasen. Lorcan wasn’t pursuing college, more interested in opening a tattoo parlor. Aelin made him promise to give her a coupon, much to Rowan’s amusement and disbelief.

“And what about this summer? And fun plans?” Rowan asked.

“Ellie and I are going on a road trip.”

Elide rolled her eyes at the nickname, probably worrying Aelin would start calling the others Rowey and Lorcy. Maybe she would.

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “A road trip as in driving around and stopping at motels or as in stopping at a bunch of high-class hotels with your parents’ money?” Condensation oozed from his tone.

Aelin felt Elide tense beside her, but she just smiled lazily. “The second one.”

Lorcan snorted. “Sounds fun.”

“Hey, you guys should come,” Aelin said.

Elide elbowed her. “What?” she hissed, as if the guys couldn’t hear her.

Aelin just smiled reassuringly and turned back to Rowan and Lorcan. “We’re going to my uncle’s home first, then a bunch of relatives’ and friends’ places and wherever else we decide. All across the country. It’ll be fun.”

Rowan scoffed. “Are you serious?”

Aelin grinned. “Why not? Me and my bestie, a couple of hot guys, a bunch of mysterious mansions. There might even be ghosts.”

“Um, Aelin,” Elide whispered. “What are you doing?”

Aelin leaned in and whispered in Elide’s ear, “Don’t you like the idea of spending a bunch of time with Lorcan?”

She leaned back and watched as the color that had finally faded from her friend’s cheeks returned in full force. “I mean, I don’t really care either way,” Elide murmured.

Planning the interrogation that would happen later in the back of her head, Aelin looked back at them. “Come on, what do you say? Do you really have anywhere better to be?”

Lorcan laughed. “Shit, I’m coming.”

Rowan sent him an incredulous glance. “Really, dude?”

Lorcan replied, “Like she said, me and my bestie and a couple of hot chicks. Blowing off Aelin’s parents’ money. Where else do you have to be, Rowan? Working at Walmart and debating whether or not to go jump off a bridge?”

Aelin rolled her eyes, but waited anxiously for Rowan’s reply.

“Hell, if you’re serious.”

Aelin clapped her hands excitedly as Elide groaned quietly next to her. “It’s settled. No backing out now.”

“So what, we drive around all summer with a couple of random guys in the back of your Jeep?” Elide sounded anxious.

Rowan let out a noise of protest. “We can take my van. No need to be in a Jeep.”

“Do you have something against Jeeps?” Aelin asked, scowling.

Rowan just crossed his arms.

Narrowing her eyes, Aelin said, “Fine, we’ll take your fucking van. Just so I won’t have to drive.”

Apparently satisfied with the small victory, Rowan smirked while Elide and Lorcan let out matching sighs.

Aelin pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it, then did the same on another scrap. She slid them to the guys and said, “My number. I’ll let you know the details.”

“You really are a spur-of-the-moment person, aren’t you?” Lorcan mused.

Aelin gave a blinding grin. “Definitely. And aren’t you glad I am? Just the five of us…this’ll be so fun.”

“Five?” Rowan asked, looking around the room to make sure he wasn’t going crazy.

Elide spoke up. “Aelin’s dog, Fleetfoot.”

“Ah,” Lorcan said, looking like he was about to call shotgun already to get away from the dog.

“This is going to be great,” Elide muttered.

“Exactly!” Aelin replied, deciding to ignore the sarcasm. “This is going to be awesome!”

Aelin had called shotgun as soon as the four of them met up, two days after school went out. When all three of them had protested—Rowan and Lorcan because they wanted to be in the front together and Elide because she wanted to be with Aelin—the blonde had only grinned and said, “I don’t want to sit in the back of a stuffy old van for over an hour. Have fun.”

With that, she had taken her seat, everyone’s luggage already in the back. Rowan had grumbled but started to make his way to his own side—when he had caught Elide blushing at Lorcan, then quickly turning away. So that was what she was up to. Devious, he had to admit.

“Playing matchmaker?” he’d asked with a smirk as he took his seat. His voice was low and the others hadn’t yet entered the van.

Aelin had flicked her eyes, her beautiful, gold-lined, turquoise eyes, at him and replied only with a small, wicked smile.

Then Elide and Lorcan had climbed in the back, taking a seat on the cushioned benches on either side. Aelin’s dog had jumped up beside Elide.

And then they had started driving. Conversation between the two parties was difficult because, even though they weren’t completely closed off, the space between the front and back was limited. It was difficult to communicate without a lot of head-turning.

Which left Rowan with only Aelin to talk to. Which meant he would spend the ride in silence. Or so he had thought.

Until Aelin started talking, and when the woman started, it was hard to shut her up. Rowan would know—he tried several times.

This was a good reminder as to why Rowan and Aelin weren’t friends. Also the small fact of her being a spoiled, rich, daddy’s girl.

Although, he had to admit, she could be charismatic sometimes. Sometimes.

Trying to tune her out, Rowan focused on the road ahead of him, wishing he could get the sound of her voice out of his head. Or the image of her in a tank top. Not that that was anything unusual; but it was a very revealing tank top.

Rowan sighed and gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.

Elide knew exactly why Aelin had called the front seat. Her nosy bitch of a friend was trying to set her up with Lorcan, as if an awkward hour in the back of a van was going to make him like her.

She didn’t like him—a lot, anyway. Elide was simply attracted to the danger that was Lorcan Salvaterre, the pure thrill of him. Not to mention his muscles.

It was really a minor crush, nothing more. There was no need to set anybody up here. Elide buckled her seatbelt and petted Fleetfoot, trying to distract herself.

A muffled snort caught her attention, and Elide glanced up to find Lorcan smirking at her seatbelt. Oh. Right. He was amused that she had buckled in because being cool meant being at serious risk during a motor vehicle accident.

This was going to be a long day.

Elide debated unbuckling her seatbelt, but she knew she would look even more ridiculous if she did that. Not to mention, she didn’t know if Rowan was a good driver. Better safe than sorry.

She turned back to the dog, scratching her behind the ears in an attempt to have an excuse to look elsewhere.

“Why are you and Aelin friends?”

Elide looked up in surprise. “What?”

Lorcan stretched his hands out behind his head and leaned back. She tried not to glance at the way his muscles flexed with the movement. “You’re a lot quiter than she is.”

“Opposites attract,” Elide replied quietly.

Lorcan snorted. “We’re pretty much opposites, you know.” Elide’s heartbeat picked up. “But we don’t attract.” So much for that.

“Maybe not, but you and Rowan are pretty different.”

Lorcan shrugged. “You have a book or something? I’m bored.”

Elide raised an eyebrow, determined to be more like Aelin. She was entirely comfortable with herself, but she did envy Aelin when it came to her ability to calmly talk to boys. No, men. Lorcan was twenty.

“I didn’t know you could read,” she responded. Not very original, but it would do.

His lips twitched. That was a first. “Apparently it’s a necessary life skill. I can only handle picture books, though.”

Elide smiled. He was trying to be funny, and he didn’t seem to be doing too well. At least she wasn’t alone when it came to a lack of humor. “I don’t have any picture books, but I do have mysteries. Agatha Christie?”

She slipped And Then There Were None out of her bag and held it out questioningly. It was one of her all-time favorite reads, and she never passed up a chance to reread it. Lorcan leaned over and grabbed it with a grunt—and no thanks. Elide wondered if he even knew who Agatha Christie was.

Sighing, she pulled out another book, this one a Mary Higgins Clark. Giving Fleetfoot one last rub, Elide opened to her bookmarked page and started reading.

After what seemed like an endless drive of telling Rowan every meaningless thing that had ever happened in her life just to annoy him, they pulled up at Aelin’s uncle’s mansion. She hadn’t seen Uncle Orlon in a couple of years, and his house was more overgrown with vines that she had last remembered. It gave the building a mysterious feel.

Aelin hopped out of the van and jogged to the front door, not stopping to grab her bags or wait for the others. She knocked on the door eagerly.

After a moment, the door opened and Aelin threw her arms around her uncle. He chuckled and hugged her back.

“Nice to see you, Aelin. And Elide’s with you, as always. May I ask who that silver-haired boy is watching you? Or the black-haired one watching Elide?”

Aelin snorted into her uncle’s shoulder. “Is Rowan watching me? How?”

“With his eyes,” Orlon replied, confusion evident in his tone.

“No,” Aelin hissed in his ear, still hugging him so she didn’t have to face Rowan. “Is he still watching me like he wants to murder me or is he staring at my ass again? Or both?”

Uncle Orlon laughed. “Sweetheart, he’s looking at you like he wants to dump your body in a sewer.”

Aelin grinned and pulled back finally. “Good,” she said. Then she chanced a glance over her shoulder at Rowan, who was indeed blatantly staring, leaning against the van with his arms crossed. Maybe she’d taken the talk until he hates you a little too far. Aelin just couldn’t figure out why she loved bothering him so much. But she wasn’t going to deny herself.

Looking back at Uncle Orlon, she said, “He’ll come around eventually, I’m sure.” Aelin smirked.

Uncle Orlon appeared to be struggling to contain a smile. Her antics had always amused the old man. “I’m sure he will. Now run along and get your bags. I would help, but my knees aren’t what they used to be.”

Aelin smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek, then ran back to her friends. Elide was hefting a couple bags onto her shoulders, while the guys were grabbing their own luggage. Both men had only brought one bag each, while Aelin had brought three bags—after limiting the amount of hair products and clothing items she could bring. Elide had minimal clothes and only a few toiletries, but she also had another bag of books and her laptop and gods knew what else. Maybe she’d brought a textbook in preparation for college. Aelin wouldn’t put it past her.

Fleetfoot lazily stepped out of the van, then perked up when she realized where they were. She took off down the path Aelin had just returned from, jumping at Uncle Orlon.

Snorting at her dog, Aelin reached for her bags. Rowan and Lorcan sent the two of them amused glances at their heavy loads, but thankfully, neither commented on it. Neither offered to help, either.

Jackasses.

“Nice place,” Lorcan commented, taking in the mansion that could have passed for a medieval castle with its stone turrets and old architecture. Perhaps Aelin hadn’t adequately explained how much money her family had.

Rowan snorted, giving the building a once-over and likely imagining once again how spoiled she was. Not that he was wrong, but it was still rude to act like that when Aelin had gone to the trouble of inviting them. Then again, he hadn’t actually said anything, and Aelin was definitely hyper-analyzing his thoughts. In a normal way, of course.

“Thank you,” Aelin replied cheerily to Lorcan, ignoring Rowan. “Ellie and I lived here until we were six.”

“You two lived together?” Lorcan asked as they started walking toward the door.

“It’s certainly big enough,” Elide said, and Aelin didn’t miss the way she quirked an eyebrow at Lorcan. Or rather, tried to. Her face scrunched up and took on a concentrated expression as she attempted to move her eyebrow up. Aelin would have to have a chat with her about proper flirting skills later.

“Our mothers are good friends, so Elide’s parents moved in a little before we were born,” Aelin butted in, saving poor Elide from the smirks the guys tossed her way.

“In the servant’s quarters?” Rowan asked drily.

Aelin shot him a glare. “No, dumbass, we each had our own side of the house.”

“I think it’s blasphemy to call that thing a house,” Lorcan muttered.

Aelin sighed as they made it to the door.

Aelin’s family had a lot of money, that much was apparent to Lorcan. He had known she was rich—hell, he’d been to plenty of her parties before. But dang, this place was huge. Even Elide, who Lorcan had just found out had lived here as a kid, looked amazed as she gazed at the stone walls.

Elide ran the last few steps to Aelin’s uncle, dropped her bags on the steps, and hugged the man. So they were close, then. That was unsurprising.

Aelin breezed past Lorcan and Rowan. “Uncle Orlon, this is Rowan and Lorcan, a couple of school acquaintances. I hope you don’t mind that I invited them.”

Lorcan wondered what would happen if he did mind. Aelin didn’t seem too worried, though.

“Of course not. The more, the merrier.” The old man shifted and smiled at them.

Aelin flashed another grin. “Guys, this is my uncle.”

“Hey,” Rowan said gruffly. Lorcan just nodded.

But the old dude—Uncle Orlon—wasn’t having any of that. He stepped forward and extended his hand to both of them, surprisingly Lorcan both with the gesture and his firm grip.

Glancing back to the doorway of which they were still outside, Lorcan saw Aelin and Elide had started down the hallway. Aelin’s mutt was circling at her feet once more. Elide’s typical short skirt swayed as she took the corner, and Lorcan couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. He only looked up when Rowan elbowed him, smirking at his friend.

Lorcan just scowled and started through the door, passing Aelin’s uncle with another terse nod.

He didn’t want to fuck Elide. She was cute, but she was too nerdy for his tastes. And she was probably still a virgin. Not that Lorcan minded corrupting people—hell, that was one of his main talents—but she just wasn’t worth the effort.

And Lorcan definitely did not like Elide Lochan. Romance wasn’t really his thing. Let alone with someone who was… not his type.

“This way,” Aelin chirped ahead of them. She was empty-handed, and must have run up to her room already. Lorcan and Rowan followed her through the hall and to the stairs. He heard a scoff beside him, and when he turned his head of course it was Rowan, silently judging another aspect of Aelin’s life. Those two had the time of their lives getting on each other’s nerves, to Lorcan’s endless amusement. Then he caught sight of what Rowan was looking at and he wanted to scoff as well.

There was an actual suit of armor standing in its own divot in the hallway. The helmet was down, and the eerie slots gave the look of a face. It was complete with a sword. An actual sword. In the twenty-first century.

“What are you waiting for?” Aelin asked impatiently, walking back a ways. She noticed what they were looking at and said, “Oh, yeah, those are all over the house. Cool, right?”

Lorcan laughed incredulously. “That’s one word for it.”

“Another being ridiculous,” he heard Rowan mutter under his breath. Aelin shot him a glare.

Wordlessly, she started down the hallway once more. Lorcan shot Rowan a grin before starting after her.

Glancing back one last time, Lorcan could have sworn he saw the suit of armor blink.

Rowan dropped his bags in the freakishly large guest room that Aelin assigned him, across from Lorcan’s own room.

He walked back out and found Lorcan similarly entering the hallway. They exchanged a glance then turned to the door farther down the hall where Aelin had disappeared. The dog walked toward them excitedly and Rowan gave her a rub.

Elide popped out of the same room Aelin had entered and focused her gaze on the guys. Rowan tried to hold back a smile as she timidly made her way the short distance and said, in a soft voice, “Aelin says she’ll give you a tour as soon as she finishes unpacking. She brought a lot of clothes.”

“I noticed,” Rowan said drily.

Elide, to her credit, frowned at him. “She’ll be out of our room in a minute.”

“You two are sharing a room? In this big-ass mansion? Why?” Lorcan asked.

“Because,” Aelin said with a smirk, taking the hallway in long strides and sidling up next to Elide, “how else are we supposed to spend our nights gossiping about you pretty boys?”

Beside her, Elide let out a resigned sigh and glanced at the ceiling. Rowan knew the feeling.

Lorcan chuckled. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

Rowan didn’t understand the camaraderie between Aelin and Lorcan. They both spent a lot of time in detention, so he was never surprised that they weren’t totally distant. But the fact that they seemed to be friends was so incredibly odd for Rowan to think about. After all, why would someone who had enough sense to be his friend also like Aelin?

As if sensing his thoughts, Aelin smirked at him. “Where should we go first? Do you guys want to see the attic? Or the cellar?”

“Aelin, don’t be creepy,” Elide murmured. “Just show them the hallways or something.”

Rowan didn’t understand why Elide was friends with Aelin either. She wasn’t actually that bad. Rowan supposed he just didn’t know why anyone enjoyed Aelin’s company. It was a mystery to him, and he didn’t like mysteries. No—he didn’t like Aelin.

Aelin shot him a glare, and Rowan decided she was definitely reading his mind. “Follow me.” She started down the hallway.

Aelin led them through the mansion, stopping every so often to point out a special room or object. Every corner seemed to have a special item like a bust or another suit of armor. There were also dozens of portraits littering the walls, of ancestors. If Rowan wasn’t too busy wondering how many homeless people could be fed with a single ruby off of the bejeweled necklace in a glass case between the ballroom and an old staircase, he might have been impressed.

Fleetfoot trailed along eagerly throughout, clearly pleased to be showing them around her house. Even the dog was sweeter than Aelin.

Aelin showed them a sitting room, and a greenhouse, and a sunroom. The ballroom and the billiard room had Rowan wondering if he had been transported into a game of Clue. The library was positively brilliant, with so many types of books, colors, words… It was everything Rowan could have wanted in a room. Not that Aelin would be notified of that. She seemed to have a particular fondness of the library and gods forbid she like something Rowan did.

There was also a study that they were only permitted to glance inside, a wine cellar, the kitchens, with surprisingly modern appliances compared to the antique feel of the rest of the mansion, and about seventeen different dining rooms.

Finally, they were brought to a central room, so deep inside the maze of the place that it had no windows, and Rowan officially considered himself lost.

The room was a living room, a bit larger than the one you would find in your average home, but otherwise no different. The walls were a warm yellow-brown, just ugly enough to be considered homey. The slightly more expensive than usual furniture was worn and faded. There was a stain on one chair that looked like it had been there for a century. The lamps were warm and rustic, and the patterned carpet was plush.

A rocking chair resided in the corner of the room, and on it sat Aelin’s uncle. He was gently rocking back and forth with a crossword on his lap. He set it down upon seeing them and smiled.

“Do you like the place?” he asked.

Aelin plopped down on a couch, and Elide followed suit. Fleetfoot circled Orlon’s feet and curled up in a ball on the floor. Rowan followed Lorcan to the couch across from theirs as he debated how to tell the man you don’t like a place like this, you take out a loan so that you can buy it and spend the rest of your life running around pretending to be from the nineteenth century.

“It’s very nice,” Lorcan replied, surprisingly Rowan with the sincerity in his voice.

“Yes, you have a lovely home,” Rowan added, trying to figure what else to say.

Uncle Orlon smiled knowingly. “We like to spoil ourselves here, I’ll admit.” He leaned back and stretched his fingers out. “How does it feel to be back?” he asked, looking at the girls now.

They both smiled, and Rowan watched intently as Aelin opened her mouth. Her full, red mouth.

“It feels great. Different, though. Like everything’s the same, but all changed.”

“Don’t go waxing lyrical on us now,” Elide cut in. “Everything has changed. All the knickknacks have been moved around. The vases, too, and the suits of armor. Did you get in the reorganizing mood?”

Rowan frowned as Uncle Orlon winced. He looked truly pained, and for a moment, Rowan wondered if he was having an ulcer.

“No, I didn’t move anything,” he said, his tone wary. This family just got weirder and weirder.

Aelin, seemingly oblivious to the change in her uncle’s mood, smiled softly. “Was it Luca then? He’s always loved decorating the place.”

Rowan didn’t know who Luca was, but he decided now wasn’t the best time to ask.

“No, dear. It wasn’t Luca, nor was it Emrys or Malakai. It wasn’t anyone.”

Elide frowned. “What do you mean?”

Uncle Orlon sighed. “I was hoping this wouldn’t get brought up while you were here. I should have known you would notice everything, Elide dear. The truth is, your great-great-great-great grandfather Brannon has been rearranging things around the house.”

Rowan may not know anything about this family, but he was pretty sure someone with that many greats wasn’t supposed to be alive. Indeed, Aelin chuckled nervously and said, “As in the same grandpa Brannon who died a century ago?”

“One hundred thirty-four and a half years now,” Elide corrected immediately. The petite girl honestly scared Rowan sometimes.

Uncle Orlon grimaced. “I know you might have trouble believing this, but his spirit has been present in the household.”

Elide plastered a fake smile on her face. She saw Rowan and Lorcan exchange a glance, likely wondering if now was the time to run for it. She looked to Aelin nervously, who only frowned and shrugged.

“Uncle O, are you sure no one’s playing a prank on you?” Aelin asked lightly. “One of the guys maybe?” That was possible. Luca or Emrys or Malakai… there was a reasonable explanation.

Uncle Orlon shook his head. “It wasn’t. They’ve been with me before when the floors creak or the windows rattle. It can’t be them.”

Elide spoke up. “Maybe that’s the wind? This is a very old house. In fact, I do remember it being rather loud, especially in the night.”

“Not like this,” Uncle Orlon insisted, and Elide’s heart splintered. Did he have dementia? Was this the old age taking over? Was Elide losing him already?

From the devastated look on Aelin’s face, Elide knew she was thinking the same thing.

“Perhaps you need the pipe system replaced,” Elide suggested. “I’ve read that if you get an opening in a pipe, the wind or rain can rattle the metal, creating a continuous, shrill, screeching sound, especially in aged buildings.”

Elide said all this mindlessly, then glanced at the guys, who both had their eyebrows raised. If Lorcan hadn’t thought she was a nerd before, he certainly would now. Not that he would be wrong in that assessment.

She hurriedly looked back to Orlon, who was frowning and shaking his head. “And how does that explain how each day something is somewhere that it wasn’t before? I know you like logical explanations, El, but this time the only possibility is that Brannon’s ghost is haunting us.”

Aelin tried to hide her snort with a cough. “So why Brannon? Why not one of our other wacko ancestors?”

“Don’t disrespect him,” Orlon hissed, glancing around the room. Real fear for his mental health started to creep into Elide’s mind. “I know because there is a legend.”

Aelin buried her face in her hands, and Elide knew that while she feigned exasperation, she was holding back tears. They both knew that when someone as old as Uncle Orlon started speaking of ghosts and legends, it was a bad sign.

“What kind of legend?” Rowan asked, and Elide glanced over to find him looking at Aelin. He had clearly come to the same conclusion they had about Orlon’s mental health and was trying to spare Aelin having to respond. Elide sent a silent prayer to the gods for Rowan Whitethorn.

Uncle O leaned forward. “There’s not much to tell. The original scroll was burned long ago.”

Lorcan tried to muffle his amusement here by clearing his throat. Elide shot him a glare, to which he shrugged helplessly. She sighed.

“Rumor has it, passed down from generation to generation, that whenever Brannon feels the peace has been disturbed, he haunts the place.”

“That’s it?” Aelin asked, having put herself together. “Did you knock over his favorite mug or something?”

A sigh of decades worth of suffering left the man. “No, darling, I didn’t. The kingsflame is missing.”

“That what?” Lorcan asked.

Elide brought her feet to her chest and leaned against Aelin under the pretense of relaxing. Instead, she was giving Aelin comfort. Aelin gratefully wrapped her arm around Elide and leaned into her.

“The kingsflame is the sacred flower of the Galathynius family. It signifies the peace between two rival clans of long ago, their names long forgotten,” he replied, and Rowan scoffed quietly. Elide and Aelin did know about this, and they always liked to joke about the family’s superstition. Neither had ever taken to the family legends.

“It sits on my desk,” Orlon continued. “Or at least, it used to. Now it’s gone. About a month ago it vanished, and from that moment on, everything has been going wrong.”

Dinner was a long and arduous task. Emrys, the cook, Malakai, the groundskeeper, and Luca, their son who often helped out around the house, were all absent as they spent Saturdays together in their cottage on the grounds. Which left Aelin with Uncle Orlon to worry about, Elide to share concern with, and two guests to entertain.

There wasn’t much else to say about the so-called haunting, so Aelin made it her mission to change the topic and have fun. Tomorrow morning she could talk to Emrys, who knew her uncle the best of the three of them, about him. About whether he seemed to be struggling mentally. Until then, there wasn’t any reason to worry about the noises that she couldn’t hear or the ghosts she couldn’t see. Now was the time to loosen up and enjoy their vacation.

So by the time dinner was over, they had somewhat managed to enjoy it, but getting to that point was difficult. Rowan and Lorcan clearly weren’t sure what to say.

Uncle Orlon dismissed himself to go to bed as soon as the meal was over, leaving the four of them alone once more.

“So,” Elide started once he was gone.

“Yeah,” Rowan added.

Lorcan nodded.

Clearing her throat, Aelin smiled. “I think we’ve had a long day. Elide and I are going to bed. Feel free to do whatever. Bathrooms are attached to your bedrooms.”

With that, she grabbed Elide by the wrist and aimed for the staircase, desperate to be away from the responsibility of dealing with other people.

Elide followed her up the stairs wordlessly. Aelin let Fleetfoot out to use the bathroom via the terrace steps leading up to their bedroom. Then they brushed their teeth in the Jack and Jill sinks, washed their faces, moisturized. By the time both were changed into pajamas and ready for bed, they were both genuinely tired.

Aelin climbed in her side of the bed, and Elide climbed in the other. Fleetfoot crawled in between them happily. Now that there was nothing left to do, Aelin was finally forced to say something.

“Do you think he’s… okay?”

Elide turned to face Aelin, drawing the blankets up farther. “I don’t know.”

Aelin knew she could always count on a candid reply from Elide, and despite the weight of her reply, she felt somewhat relieved. “Let’s just discuss this in the morning.”

Elide nodded. “That’s probably for the best.”

“I do have one question,” Aelin said.

Elide scooted closer. “Yeah?”

Aelin grinned. “Having fun?”

She only looked put off. “Very much so. What do you mean?”

“You seemed rather flirty with Lorcan earlier,” Aelin continued, trying to keep her smirk under control.

Elide spluttered and her face flushed. “Why would you say that? I would never. Never do that. I’m not flirty. I’m not trying to be flirty. I don’t want to be flirty. There is no flirty.”

Aelin laughed into the pillow. “Oh Ellie, tell the truth.”

An indignant exhale left her lips. “He’s just so hot,” she finally said.

Aelin started cackling.

“Stop it,” Elide pleaded.

Her laughs only deepened. “Babe, you’re not wrong.”

Elide’s turned the color of ripe tomato at that. “Aelin.”

“I’m sorry. He does have that sexy bad boy thing going for him, I won’t lie.”

“Please,” Elide hissed.

Aelin giggled maniacally. “Okay, but seriously—maybe try playing it cool.”

“I am playing it very cool,” Elide said.

“Hmm, but maybe a little cooler than that. Like maybe no eyebrow movement until we get a chance to work on that.”

“What’s wrong with my eyebrows?”

Aelin’s cheeks started to hurt from the size of her smile. “Nothing, babe, let’s just go for a more neutral attitude until you can practice.”

“How am I supposed to practice?” Elide whined so pitifully that Aelin sat up and flipped a lamp on, the moonlight not cutting it.

“Sit up,” Aelin instructed, and Elide did as she was told. “Now pretend I’m Lorcan.”

“This is weird,” she protested.

“We’re weird. It’s only natural,” Aelin countered, and at least Elide cracked a smile at that.

Aelin waited a moment, then said, in a ridiculous faked baritone, “Hey, Elide. What are you up to?”

Elide blinked. She sighed slightly, then straightened her back and widened her shoulders. “Hi, Lorcan. I’ve been… stuffing. Doing the stuff. The things.”

“Wow, okay,” Aelin said. “I’m not even Lorcan and it’s this bad. I hadn’t realized what a critical situation this was.”

“Stop teasing me,” Elide said, trying to hide a smile of her own.

Aelin grinned. “You look really pretty today, Elide.”

She blushed. “Um, thanks. You look really snazzy, Lorcan.”

They both stared at each other for a moment, then simultaneously dissolved into laughter.

“Snazzy,” Aelin gasped out between heaving breaths. “Oh my gods.”

“I didn’t,” Elide wheezed, “mean to say that.”

Fleetfoot felt the need to be involved and tried to lick Aelin’s face, only making them giggle harder.

Maybe things weren’t so bad. Not if Aelin and Elide could laugh this hard. Uncle Orlon was okay, there was no dementia, no ghost, no prophecy come to life. It was just Aelin, her best friend, a guy her friend liked, a guy she semi-hated but thought was hot, and an adventure.

And they were going to have the time of their lives.

“What do you think’s so funny?” Rowan asked.

Lorcan frowned and took a swig from the can of soda he wished was alcohol. The girls had laughed a few times, and now they were full on howling, more than audible, even from where they sat in a sitting room they’d come across. “No clue,” he replied.

“Aelin did say they’d be talking about us,” Rowan added.

“Do you want them to be talking about us?” Lorcan asked, smirking.

Rowan shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind it.”

Lorcan let out a snort. “You suck.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“You just want Aelin to like you back.”

“What?” Rowan’s mouth dramatically hung open.

Lorcan took another sip of his Dr. Pepper. “You’ve been looking at her all day. I’m not blind.”

Rowan scowled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mmhmm.” Lorcan reclined in the chair.

“Seriously, bro, I don’t like her like that. Or at all.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Rowan frowned. “I mean, she is hot, but she’s annoying as hell.”

“She invited us on a free vacation.”

“She’s pesky,” Rowan insisted.

Lorcan rolled his eyes. “You’re peskier.”

“Whatever.”

Lorcan drained the soda can and set it to the side.

“What about Elide?”

“What about her?” Lorcan asked.

Rowan smirked slightly. “You were staring at her ass earlier.”

Lorcan shrugged. “She has a nice ass.”

A chuckle left Rowan as he leaned back. “So does Aelin.”

“They have nice asses,” Lorcan summed up.

“Exactly.”

Especially Elide, Lorcan couldn’t help but think.

A smashing sound filled the air.

Rowan’s head snapped toward the noise, but he wasn’t sure exactly where it had come from. He looked to Lorcan, who only shrugged.

The sound of barking filled the air, and Rowan knew the dog had woken up.

They had spent the last ten minutes searching for their bedrooms, and were now in some sort of foyer, not the one at the front door. Just when they had decided to crash on the first couch they came across and locate their rooms in the morning—and ask somebody for a map—the noise, sounding suspiciously like breaking glass, had broken the silence of the night.

“Should we go investigate?” Lorcan asked, his bored tone making it clear he wanted to do anything but.

Rowan sent him a glare and said, “Yes. We should.”

Lorcan sighed, but followed as Rowan made his way to a staircase. Maybe this one would go in the general direction of the noise? This confusing layout had to be a fire hazard.

Rowan took the staircase by twos, albeit slowly, and came out on a landing. The railing revealed a lower floor. And the front door.

“I think I know where we are,” Rowan said.

“Well lead the way, Sherlock, cause I have no clue.”

Rowan started moving along the landing, then down the stairs. Ignoring Lorcan’s protests that they were supposed to be going up, he walked around a corner and then through the hallway they’d originally entered through. Next he made a few turns and started up the stairs, a different set of stairs than before. They came out exactly where they had upon arriving, and Rowan breathed a sigh of relief.

Then he started looking for the girls.

Lorcan cursed, and Rowan spun around to find him fending off… the dog. He sent Rowan a glower and a muttered, “Shut up.”

Rowan just smirked and rubbed the dog idly as he searched the hallway, his eyes straining in the dark.

“Is there a light switch somewhere?” he asked.

“Do you honestly expect me to know the answer to that?”

Rowan sighed. “Well at least we know where our rooms are now.”

“Guys?” a voice called up ahead, and almost immediately after a light flickered on. Aelin was standing at the opposite end of the hallway, dressed in an oversized Def Leppard t-shirt.

And nothing else.

Forcing his gaze away from the bottom of her shirt and her long, tanned legs, Rowan said, “What was that smashing noise?”

“It was a vase,” Aelin said. “It fell off of its stand back that way.” She nodded behind her. “It must have been a draft or something.”

Lorcan nodded. “Well, now that that mystery’s solved,” he drawled, making it clear he hadn’t been concerned in the first place, “I’m going to bed.”

“Were you guys downstairs?” she asked.

Lorcan snorted. “We were all the hell over.” With that, he slipped in his room and shut the door, none too gently.

Aelin rasied an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

Rowan chuckled lightly. “We got lost.”

Rowan wasn’t really sure how to respond to that.

“I’m going to help El finish cleaning up the vase shards.”

“Do you need me to help?” Rowan asked.

Aelin smiled. “No, thank you. We’ve got it covered.” She turned and headed down the hall and around the corner she’d come from.

Rowan definitely wasn’t staring at her ass as she sauntered away, praying the fabric would bunch up just another inch.

“Fucking fuck,” Elide muttered as she swept the shards into a pile with the broom she’d snatched out of a random closet nearby. “Just go on the fucking dustpan.”

“Let me get that,” Aelin said, reappearing beside Elide.

“It’s fine,” she said.

Aelin smiled. “Seriously, I got it. You can let Fleetfoot out again before we head back to sleep.”

Elide nodded gratefully. “Fleetfoot, come potty.”

She wagged her tail and sprinted straight to the nearest door. Or rather, she tried to. Aelin had to shoo her away from the pile of glass. Dogs needed to learn some self-care techniques.

Elide let her out through the door to the terrace, then said to Aelin while still watching Fleetfoot patter down the steps, “Was that the guys?”

“Yeah, they came from downstairs. They both went to bed just now, I think.”

“Good.”

“Why good?”

Elide glanced at her friend. “I’m wearing polka dot shorts and a tank top with miniature sheep covering it. Do you really need to ask me that question?”

Aelin grinned. “Fair enough. Those sheep do wonders for your boobs, though.”

Elide choked on a laugh. “You’re horrible.”

“You betcha, bestie.”

Elide rolled her eyes. She heard a whine and looked over to see Fleetfoot back at the door. She opened it, then shut it and locked it. Then tried to remember if she had even unlocked it in the first place.

Probably. Unlocking a door wasn’t something that would be burned into her memory, and there wasn’t any reason for it to have been unlocked.

Dismissing that train of thought, Elide turned to Fleetfoot, who was sniffing something behind a cabinet, then back to Aelin. “Should we just wait until morning to tell Uncle O? This really isn’t of upmost importance.”

Aelin movements dumping the shards in the trash bin slowed. “Do we really need to, though?”

Elide hesitated. “Shouldn’t we?”

Aelin took a deep breath, then looked over at Elide. “He didn’t come to check out the noise, which he would have done if he had heard it. Which makes sense because his room’s on the opposite side of the house and he struggles with his hearing.”

Elide nodded. “Exactly why we should let him know.”

“But remember everything he was talking about earlier. This isn’t the first vase to be knocked over by a draft. If we tell him, couldn’t that just… encourage the… superstition?”

A moment passed, and then Elide nodded. “You’re right, actually. We shouldn’t worry him with this.”

Aelin smiled slightly, a clear attempt at raising the mood—one that didn’t do much—and turned back to her work. She had the mess cleaned up already, but she hovered over it, looking for something to do to distract herself with.

Elide sighed and turned to walk back down the hallway—then noticed Fleetfoot was still investigating behind the cabinet. “Come here, Fleetfoot. Bedtime.”

Fleetfoot didn’t move.

“What did you find, girl?” Elide walked over to the dog and peered around the cabinet.

“What is it?” Aelin asked, coming up behind her.

“I don’t know.” Elide scooted Fleetfoot out of the way. “It looks like… a packet of seeds.”

“Hmm,” Aelin said, quickly losing interest. She started back down the hall. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Elide said distantly, still studying the packet, appearing to be black Rhododendron seeds. “I’m coming.” She snatched up the packet and slipped it in her shorts pocket, then started after Aelin.

A quiet whimpering woke Aelin up.

She rolled over and opened her eyes to see Fleetfoot staring at her pitifully, seated in front of the door.

“I let you out just a few hours ago,” Aelin muttered. “You’re getting old.”

Fleetfoot whined again.

Sighing, Aelin slipped out from between the sheets and shuffled toward the door, glancing back to see Elide still asleep. Aelin smiled at the small form of her friend, then grabbed a pair of sweats and left the room, clicking the latch behind her quietly.

Once Fleetfoot had taken care of her business, Aelin headed downstairs, the dog trailing behind her happily.

Rowan was in the kitchen. There was a bowl of Cheerios on the counter, with a very minimal amount of what was probably skim milk. He was rifling through drawers, muttered curses falling from his lips.

“Silverware’s over there,” Aelin said, startling Rowan. He turned, then looked to the drawer on the far side of the kitchen where Aelin was pointing.

“Thanks,” he said, voice raspy from sleep. Aelin couldn’t help but notice his eyes immediately went down, his lips turning down slightly in disappointment when he realized Aelin was now wearing pants.

She smirked and adjusted her stance so that he would notice that she still wasn’t wearing a bra. From the way his eyes shifted around the room and his ears were tinged with pink, Aelin was pretty sure he saw.

Rowan cleared his throat and opened the drawer, pulling out a spoon. “What are we doing today?”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Aelin grabbed a box of Chocolate Chex, much to Rowan’s distaste, or so she assumed from the frown on his face. Fucking health nuts. “We’re not really close to town, so maybe just find something to do around to house.”

Rowan nodded, his eyes flicking back to Aelin’s shirt when he thought she didn’t notice. She smiled again.

“Sleep well?” Aelin asked.

Rowan moved to the table, the small bistro-style table they usually ate breakfast at. “Yeah. You?”

Aelin hummed noncommittally. “Suppose so. No more supernatural activity, at least.”

Rowan snorted. “Right. So what d—” He paused. “Are you putting chocolate milk in your chocolate cereal?”

Aelin grinned. “And chocolate sprinkles.”

A disturbed look crossed Rowan’s face. “How do you consume that?”

“Easy.” Aelin grabbed a spoon, joined him, and took a bite.

“Hmm,” Rowan murmured, staring intently at her bowl. “That’s an interesting choice of… dare I call it food?”

“At least I’m not shoving fucking bland-ass Cheerios and skim milk down my throat,” Aelin retorted.

“It’s not skim milk,” Rowan objected. “It’s almond milk.”

Aelin gave Rowan a death stare.

Just then, Lorcan chose that moment to walk through the doorway. He took in the pair scowling at each other and said merrily, “Glad to see everybody’s getting along.”

Aelin glanced at him and smiled, refusing to allow Rowan to damper her sunshine. “Good morning.”

“For you, maybe,” Lorcan grumbled. “It took me ten minutes to find my way here. Almost fell down a dumbwaiter.”

Aelin grinned. “Maybe I should show you guys some basic directions.”

“Please,” Rowan muttered.

Lorcan grabbed a banana and slumped into the seat beside Aelin and across from Rowan. “Where’s Elide?”

Aelin raised a brow. “Still in bed, last I checked. Why do you ask?”

He scowled. “Just curious.”

Aelin cocked her head. Interesting.

Very interesting.

Lorcan hadn’t asked for any particular reason. Elide was the only one of the group not present, and it was only natural to wonder where she was. Rowan had probably been thinking the same thing.

Halfway through his banana, someone breezed through the door. It was a middle-aged man with slightly greying hair and warm brown eyes. He was stout and obviously happy, permanent creases around his mouth from smiling so much. As he was now, widely and without restriction.

Lorcan didn’t give a shit who he was or why he was here, he was just glad someone had interrupted Aelin and Rowan’s staring contest.

The man cleared his throat, and Aelin, who was facing away from him, looked over her shoulder, then grinned. She stood quickly and threw her arms around the man. “Emrys!”

Emrys chuckled and hugged her back. “It’s lovely to see you, dear. You’ve gotten so tall.”

Aelin laughed. “I think that’s just you getting shorter.”

Lorcan munched on his banana.

“And with company?”

Aelin pulled back. “This is Lorcan and Rowan.” She glanced at them. “This is Emrys, the chef.”

“Hey,” Rowan said, sounding mildly interested.

Lorcan just grunted.

“Where’s my lovely Elide?” Emrys asked, and Aelin told him the same thing she’d said to Lorcan. Then she hesitated.

“Has Uncle O said anything about…” She trailed off. Lorcan felt a twinge of sadness that she had to worry about her uncle like this.

Emrys’ eyes tightened in understanding. “Ghosts. Yes. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, dear.”

“You don’t?” Aelin asked.

Emrys shook his head. “Even if we never find the kingsflame, Brannon was never said to be aggressive.”

Lorcan choked, accidentally spitting a piece of banana on the floor. Rowan looked at him, his face twitching as if he couldn’t tell what reaction he was supposed to have to that sentence.

Aelin’s back was to them, but she seemed to be taking it the same way, or so Lorcan surmised from her nervous chuckle and twitching fingers. “What did you say?”

Emrys smiled wider. “I said that you don’t need to be concerned about Brannon. I know it’s scary, but he’s harmless.”

“Not to that vase,” Rowan said, certainly not helping matters. Lorcan frowned at him and he shrugged. Just saying, he mouthed.

Aelin sent them a frown, the expression only deepening as Emrys sighed. “Another vase? Which one was it?”

Elide walked through the door at that moment, nearly running into Emrys. “Oh, hi!”

They exchanged hugs as Aelin rubbed her forehead, likely questioning the sanity of everyone around her. Elide seemed especially chipper upon seeing Emrys, entirely unaware of what had just transpired.

She was already dressed for the day, wearing a t-shirt and her signature miniskirt. Not that Lorcan found any of this interesting; he was merely being observant.

“What’s up?” Elide asked.

“You don’t need to be alarmed,” Lorcan couldn’t help but say. “The ghost is a nice ghost.”

Aelin looked like she was about to come pummel him, and Rowan too when he laughed into his hand.

“What Lorcan means to say is that, ah, Emrys has some opinions on the happenings of the house.”

Elide looked to Emrys in confusion. “You don’t think the ghost is real, do you?”

Emrys blinked, seemingly just catching onto the fact that no one here believed him. “You don’t?”

Elide scoffed. “Of course I don’t. There is zero evidence supporting the presence of supernatural phenomena. Zero.”

“Dear, have a little faith.”

Elide frowned. “Why would I have faith when there is no evidence?”

Aelin laughed, probably reaching her limit. “Let’s all sit down.”

She took her seat, Elide went across from her—in between Lorcan and Rowan—and Emrys pulled a chair from the corner to sit between Elide and Rowan. Elide had to scoot closer to Lorcan to make room, and her knee bumped his. She instantly jolted away, sending him a frightened glance as if she had just done some unforgivable deed. Lorcan just smirked, amused at the way she blushed and turned away.

Cute.

Emrys cleared his throat. “There is no other explanation for the things that have been happening here.”

“What, exactly, has been happening?” Aelin asked.

“Wherever you go, the noises follow,” Emrys said, a tired look in his eyes. Maybe the “ghost” wasn’t as harmless as it seemed.

“What kind of noises?” Elide asked. “Be specific.” She pulled something out of a hidden pocket in her skirt. A notepad with a pencil in the spiral. She had to be kidding.

“All sorts. Tapping noises. Banging sounds. Shutters slamming. Creaking noises. None of them are normal.”

Elide, who had been scribbling throughout, holding the notepad close to her chest so it was obstructed from Lorcan’s view, asked, “How aren’t they normal? And where do you hear each noise? Are there certain areas you hear certain things?”

Rowan coughed into his hand, and then winced. From the self-satisfied smirk Aelin wore, Lorcan suspected she had just kicked him under the table.

Emrys hummed thoughtfully. “Creaks in all the upstairs rooms. Loud ones, not just old house noises. Like there’s somebody there, but when you turn around you’re alone.” Elide kept writing. “And the sounds in the kitchens are more metallic,” he said, and Lorcan guessed this kitchen was just a little one for breakfast or something.

“Tapping in the hallways and staircases. Banging noises when we’re sitting down to meals, or sitting down somewhere. Shutters, books, all sorts of things.”

Elide nodded. “Is that all?”

“For the noises, yes,” Emrys said. “But there are other things. Things fall over all the time. Vases, as you found out. Paintings secured to the walls. Books from shelves that are neatly stacked.”

“Perhaps you need a new ventilation system.”

Emrys quieted Elide with a look. “Glasses from cabinets that are closed. And just last week, a whole suit of armor fell over. It took hours to put it back together properly.”

The sound of Elide scribbling was continuous, and Lorcan noticed for the first time she was a leftie.

“And some things aren’t just falling over, they’re being moved. Paintings are switched. Your great-great-great-grandmother Elena was replaced with her mother, Mala. Books are rearranged. Whole pieces of furniture have relocated.”

“I hope you’re not telling them about that gods-awful myth,” a voice said from the doorway. Everyone looked up to find a man, about the same age as Emrys, with a frown instead of a smile. Beside him was a teenage boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen. Elide and Aelin both stood and greeted the man as Malakai and the boy as Luca. Hugs were exchanged once more, and Lorcan held back a yawn. Aelin ruffled Luca’s hair with a grin, and Lorcan noticed Rowan frowning at the action.

As if Aelin would be screwing a kid likely just starting high school. Lorcan kept that thought to himself.

Aelin introduced the pair as Emrys’ husband and their son. Lorcan vaguely recalled something about them, a groundskeeper and some kid who helped out around the house.

Everyone relocated to the living room, since there weren’t enough seats. They spread out among the various sofas and chairs, and the silken couch Lorcan was on had him leaning back in content, wishing more than ever that he was rich. Elide immediately spoke up as soon as everyone was comfortable.

“What are your thoughts on the ghost?”

Malakai sighed. “The wind. Old house things. Someone playing a prank.” He sent Luca a look at that.

“Dad, I told you I didn’t do it,” he hissed.

Malakai shrugged. “It’s not a ghost, that’s all I can say.”

Emrys sighed. He had probably heard this before, and was convinced the ghost was real.

“And you, Luca?” Elide inquired.

He smiled slightly, his dimples making an appearance. Then he glanced at Aelin. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s bullshit,” Aelin said. Both men shot her a glare, and she amended her statement to, “Bullcrap, sorry.”

Luca nodded sagely. “I agree.”

Lorcan was starting to get the feeling he would have agreed no matter what Aelin said. He grinned, only grinning wider when he saw Rowan squinting at Luca.

“Do you have anything to add to noises and broken or relocated objects?” Elide asked.

Luca shook his head, but Malakai frowned. “The nightstand in a guest room was moved and I tripped over it a couple weeks ago. Twisted my ankle.”

“What happened to harmless?” Rowan asked.

“Do the hauntings extend to your cottage, or is it only in the house?” Elide continued, ignoring him.

“Just the house. We haven’t been bothered at home,” Emrys said.

Elide cleared her throat. “If that’s all, I should go.”

Luca perked up. “Go where?”

“I’m going to solve this mystery,” she stated bluntly, standing up.

“I’m coming with you,” Lorcan said impulsively, standing as well.

Elide shot him a frown, but didn’t say anything, just left the room. Lorcan hurried after her, ignoring Rowan’s smirk.

It was loud in the living room as Aelin chatted with the staff, everyone talking at once, at least two different conversations going around. They seemed to have mutually agreed to set aside their differing opinions concerning the ghost of great-great-whatever Brannon. Rowan wasn’t much included in the conversation, but he preferred it that way. He was content to sit and listen.

Creaks sounded outside in the hall, and Emrys shot his husband an I told you so look, but soon enough Orlon shuffled in the room, dressed in a long grey robe and slippers. Certainly not a ghost.

“Morning, everybody.”

Aelin stood and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then helped him to his rocking chair. Rowan thought about how relieved she must be, knowing that even if he was wrong about the ghosts, he wasn’t losing control of his mental capacities; not if everyone acknowledged the strange occurrences. It was pure superstition at this point, not dementia.

“When’s Darrow coming home?” Malakai asked, and Rowan noticed Aelin frowning and picking at a hole in her sweatpants.

Orlon smiled. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Who’s Darrow?” Rowan asked.

Orlon looked over. “He’s my partner. He’s on a business trip in Bellhaven right now. You’ll like him.”

Rowan smiled back at him, but he couldn’t stop glancing at Aelin, who was still scowling.

She stood up. “I’m going to go now. See you later.” She flashed a smile at her uncle, but Rowan could clearly see that it was faked, and Orlon could too, judging by the sigh he let out.

Rowan got up as well and followed her out, waving at the four people left as he walked out.

He caught up to Aelin. “What’s your problem with Darrow?”

“Why is that any of your business?” she hissed.

“Because I’m bored and as the hostess, it’s your job to entertain me.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “There isn’t really a particular reason. He’s just an all-around asshole.”

“Elaborate,” Rowan commanded as he sped up, trying to keep pace with Aelin, who was taking long strides down the hallway.

She sent him a look that meant trouble. “Watch yourself, Whitethorn.”

“Come on, don’t leave me hanging. This is the closest thing to gossip I’m going to come across on this vacation.”

Aelin laughed melodically, throwing her head back freely. She looked… beautiful. “He hasn’t done anything specifically. He just rubs me the wrong way. Too stiff and grumpy. Not so unlike yourself, actually.”

Rowan frowned, and she grinned.

“I should change,” Aelin said. Rowan glanced around them to find they were back in the hallway with their bedrooms. “You can wait if you want, and I’ll try to entertain you some more when I come out.”

Rowan leaned against the wall and nodded his head slightly in agreement.

Aelin stepped in her room, then looked back at him. “And Rowan, don’t worry. There will be plenty of gossip on this trip. You’re with me.”

With that she took the last step and closed the door behind her, leaving Rowan smiling in the hall.

“Austenitic stainless steel,” Elide muttered. “Just as I thought.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Lorcan asked.

Elide frowned, her shyness entirely overshadowed by her desire to solve this. She could never leave something alone without figuring it out. That’s why she was going into engineering as a career.

“Why are you here, Lorcan? You clearly have no idea what I’m doing.”

He didn’t look perturbed, just endlessly amused. “For one thing, there’s nothing better to do. And for another thing, you don’t know I won’t catch on if you actually tell me what you’re thinking. I might surprise you.”

Elide pursed her lips. “Each noise is associated with a certain room or area. Obviously whoever is making the sounds is using the space around them. Uncle O described a metallic sound when he was in the kitchens. The entire room is filled with stainless steel. Someone taps something, and there you go. That part’s just common sense, not real detective work. But I need to establish opportunity before I can move forward.”

Lorcan nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. What next?”

“I need to check”—Elide consulted with her notepad—“how securely the paintings are placed on the walls, as well as the shutters on the outside of the house. Also whether there are creaks in the upstairs rooms. There are, but I still need to verify for scientific purposes. It sounds like everything happening during meals is other stuff being dropped, aside from the shutters, and I can’t exactly do anything about that, so there’s nothing to be done there. I do want to check how drafty it is in the areas where stuff has been falling over. And the stairs.”

“What about the stairs?”

Elide frowned. “I don’t know. Most of the staircases—all of them, actually—don’t exactly have anywhere someone can hide to the side and mess around with whoever’s walking up or down them, and yet Uncle O describes tapping noises. I should have asked if the sounds there were right next to the person or above or below. There was a lot more I should have asked them, actually. But there will be time for questions later. Right now we’re just observing.”

Lorcan listened attentively, then said, “You seem pretty convinced that someone is doing this. That it isn’t just the wind, or their paranoia.”

“I can’t discount the possibility entirely,” Elide replied, “But it seems rather unlikely. Things are moving, and breaking, and all sorts of things are happening. As for whether the culprit is one of those four screwing around with the others or an outside force, it’s far too early to tell. And if it is an outsider, I wouldn’t be able to say whether that person—or people—are just playing a prank, or if they have malicious intent. Now isn’t the time for conclusions, merely inspection.”

Lorcan nodded, seeming to take Elide’s spew of words rather well. She was surprised.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

An hour later, everything on Elide’s list had been meticulously crossed off. She and Lorcan had even stopped back in the living room to ask some more questions at one point, receiving some clarifications. Aelin and Rowan hadn’t been in the room, but Elide was too consumed with her work to bother asking when and where they had gone.

Now they were sitting in one of the staircases, Elide daintily seated on one step with her feet on the one below, Lorcan a couple steps down sitting lengthwise across it, and leaning against the wall. The curve of the staircase left them with plenty of privacy.

Lorcan had actually picked up on everything Elide did pretty quickly, and oftentimes without instruction. And he had known they would be returning to the staircase without Elide saying anything. He was smarter than he let on.

But Elide was too busy thinking to care much.

“I just don’t understand,” she said.

“I know.” Lorcan’s voice as confused as hers was.

Elide took a breath. “So let’s lay out the details. We tested every single staircase in the house. This one was the only one that sounded abnormal, the only one that sounded much more hollow than the small space for insulation should allow.”

“And when we talked to Orlon again,” Lorcan continued, “this was the one staircase he said it happened in. Which can’t be a coincidence.”

Elide nodded. “But because of all four of their accounts describe tapping noises directly next to whoever is using the stairs, that only leads to one conclusion. And it can’t be.”

Lorcan frowned. “It has to be.”

“But how can someone be back there?” Elide hissed. “Creeping in some unknown space in the walls? This isn’t some fucking mystery novel. And I can only pray one of the four of them is doing it, because think of what it means if it isn’t!”

“Not only is someone breaking in and messing with everybody, but they’re sneaking around through some sort of secret passage.”

“Yeah,” Elide said, exhaling. “I don’t want to talk here anymore.” She stood, then hurried up the stairs.

“Where are we going now, then?” Lorcan asked, following her.

“I don’t know. Away from there, anyway. Actually,” Elide said, stopping so suddenly that Lorcan barely avoided running into her, “Uncle O’s study. I think he has a floor plan of the house in there.”

“Good idea.”

Aelin laughed so hard she almost fell over. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“I’m not, I swear,” Rowan said.

Aelin grinned. “Gods, you’re just trouble, aren’t you?”

Rowan laughed. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“What do you think Elide and Lorcan are doing?” Aelin asked.

“Something useful, probably. Even Lorcan has more motivation than we do.”

Aelin snorted. “That’s not what I meant. Do you think they’re… bonding?” She waggled her eyebrows.

Rowan choked on a laugh. “Neither of them have enough courage to be bonding. They’re likely just avoiding eye contact and being awkward.”

“Aww, the poor lovebirds,” Aelin cooed. “What can we do?”

“Do?”

“You know, set them up!”

“Set them up? Why is this our business?”

“Because,” Aelin drawled, “You wanted gossip, I’m providing. Being a good hostess and all.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Are you sure they even want to be set up?”

“Well they would never admit it, I’m sure, but of course they do! I’m not saying they’re in love or anything, but they totally want to fuck. That’s enough for me.”

Rowan just shook his head and looked across the rooftop, his lips tugging upward. Aelin had brought him to the roof via a long staircase and a few twists and turns. They were lounging dangerously on a slightly less sloped portion of tiles, Aelin’s feet dangling over the edge.

“How do you plan on setting them up?” Rowan asked.

“We,” Aelin corrected, “are going to figure something out. I don’t yet know.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Let me know when you’ve decided.”

“Will do.” Aelin gazed out along the expanse of land, all owned by Uncle O. A large rectangle of perfectly mowed grass bordered the back of the house, with hedges and flowers methodically bordering the space. Behind it was a woodland, wildlife abundant and trees growing freely. The woods were all owned by the family as well, but Uncle O requested they were to be left alone, so Malakai focused his attentions on the yard, and the bushes in the front.

“What do you think is going on?” Rowan asked after a moment. “With the haunting shit.”

Aelin hummed in thought. “Elide’s definitely better equipped than I am to answer that. But maybe Luca got bored and wanted to have some fun.”

“You think he’d do that?”

Aelin glanced over at him. “I mean, if he is it’s not really that serious. Just a prank.”

Rowan frowned. “One of his fathers twisted his ankle. I wouldn’t call that just a prank.”

“That wasn’t on purpose,” Aelin said, squinting at Rowan. “Even if it wasn’t Luca, that doesn’t seem like it was meant to happen.”

“I’m just saying, you should be careful around him.”

Aelin snorted, then frowned as she realized the seriousness of his statement. “I should be careful around the fifteen-year-old kid I’ve known since the day he was born? The same kid who blushes at everyone female he comes across and buys me chocolate chip pumpkin muffins out of the goodness of his heart?”

Rowan winced, likely figuring out he’d said the wrong thing. A bit too late for regret.

“I’ll be inside. It’s dinnertime soon,” Aelin said, standing and stalking back across the roof.

She didn’t miss Rowan’s sigh as she made her way back to the door.

She did, however, miss the eyes watching her. Eyes that did not belong to Rowan.

Lorcan tried to contain his shock. “That is… a rather large amount of space between walls.”

Elide nodded slowly. “I can’t imagine any other reason it would be there.”

“So now we’re officially praying someone here is pranking the others,” Lorcan summed up.

Elide nodded again, deep in thought as she studied the floor plan. They had crept into Orlon’s study and were looking at the many different floors of the mansion. The space between the walls on one side of the staircase they’d investigated, as well as along several different hallways, was much larger than the rest of the house. Something was between the walls, some sort of hidden corridor.

“Where do you think the entrance is?”

Elide hummed noncommittally. “I would say there are more than one. Someone is able to enter, either from somewhere close to their room or from the outside, and reappear around the areas of incident, of which there are many. But it’s difficult to tell where the entrance or entrances are from here.”

Lorcan looked closer and trailed his finger along the map. “This space runs along here and to the set of stairs. If there’s an outside entrance it would likely be on the first floor. We might be able to find it if we see where the path goes.”

Elide thumbed through the other pages. “Um, where’s the one for the first floor?”

Lorcan frowned. “It’s there somewhere.”

“Have we checked it yet?”

“No, but…” Lorcan shrugged.

“So we don’t actually know it’s here.” Elide’s voice turned a little upset.

“Don’t worry, it just slipped out or something,” Lorcan said in his best soothing tone (which wasn’t that great). “Check the floor.”

“It’s not on the floor,” Elide hissed.

Lorcan winced. He checked under the desk and around the carpet. Sure enough, it wasn’t there. He grabbed the stack of floors and sifted through them. “Gods-dammit,” he muttered.

“I told you,” Elide said, clearly panicking. “What does this mean? Did somebody know we would come looking and take that one?”

“Or maybe Orlon just moved it or lost it. Ask him about it.”

Elide winced. “We’re not supposed to be in here.”

Lorcan grinned. “I didn’t know you were such a rule-breaker, Lochan.”

She blushed, scowling. “I’d hardly call sneaking into my uncle’s study extreme. Besides, I find it unlikely that he would have done that. He probably wouldn’t be able to help us.”

“So,” Lorcan said, leaning against the desk. “Let’s work under the assumption that whoever is doing the haunting bullshit took the plan for the first floor. What does that tell us?”

“That that’s where the entrance is,” Elide said immediately, blinking.

“Exactly,” Lorcan said. “Not confirmed, but we might as well check around, right?”

Elide scribbled something in her notepad. “Yes. Tomorrow though. I think Uncle O will call us for dinner soon. I don’t want him getting suspicious.”

Hesitantly—wanting to be done with this and get a chance to relax—Lorcan murmured his agreement. Then he said, “What are we telling Rowan and Aelin about this?”

“I don’t want them freaking out. And of course they’re not suspects, having been here only a day and a half, but I still want as few people as possible to know.”

Lorcan nodded. “Smart.”

“Let’s just go before he comes back,” Elide said. “There’s nothing else we can do here.”

“Alright.”

Elide started toward the door, then paused as Lorcan said, “Is this where the kingsflame was?”

She turned back around, eyeing the glass case he was looking at. “Yeah. Aelin and I never believed in the legend stuff, but we always thought it was pretty. Red and golden, not like any flower I’d ever seen before. It came back unidentified on every plant app I used, but Uncle O wouldn’t let me take it to a lab.”

Her voice held such sincere sadness that Lorcan couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Gee, that must have been awful for you.”

Elide scowled at him. “Let’s go.” She reached for the handle, promptly dropping it and stepping back as if she’d been burned.

“What’s—”

“Hush,” Elide whispered, looking around frantically. She settled on the desk and then grabbed Lorcan by the arm and tugged him around to the other side.

She crouched, still holding onto Lorcan, and he didn’t need to be smart to know Elide had heard someone coming. He got down on the floor and scooted under the desk next to her.

A moment of silence passed, with Elide’s elbow in Lorcan’s gut and his knee somehow on her lap. It was a tight squeeze. Lorcan smirked at the expression on her face.

And then the door opened. Someone shuffled inside, murmuring something under their breath, “Where are they, where are they?”

Elide tensed against Lorcan’s side.

She relaxed as, in a much clearer, louder voice, the person said, “There they are. Been looking for my glasses all day.” It was Orlon.

Lorcan heard him slowly leave the room, and he exhaled, relieved Orlon hadn’t come around to this side of the desk. As soon as the door closed, Lorcan scooted out and stood, holding out a hand to help Elide up.

She stared at his hand, eyes comically wide, for a few seconds, then grabbed it. Lorcan gently pulled Elide to her feet, her soft hands so tiny in his. Lorcan ignored the feeling that observation gave him. After all, Elide was cute and fuckable. And she had tiny hands. There wasn’t anything he could do about it.

“Let’s go before someone starts wondering where we are,” Lorcan said.

Elide released his hand immediately and turned. “Yeah,” she breathed as she reached for the doorknob again, this time opening it slightly and peering out before opening the door all the way. She didn’t look back as she started down the hallway.

Lorcan didn’t even have enough self-control not to stare at her ass as he followed her to dinner.

Her mouth tasted like strawberries. Her lips were soft and refreshing, and entirely playful in the way they slid against his.

Rowan pulled her closer, smirking as she nipped at his lower lip. He let one hand slide to her waist as he parted her lips with his tongue, and the other went to grasp her hair. Those beautiful golden locks that could only belong to—

Rowan jolted awake.

A moment passed as Rowan tried to rewire his brain.

Where was he? He was in bed at Orlon’s mansion.

What had happened? He had had a dream.

What was he doing? Generally freaking out.

That dream had been about… a girl. A blonde girl with lovely lips. That could be anybody. Positively anybody.

Rowan promptly jolted into a sitting position, then threw the covers off. Breathing hard, he got to his feet and aimed for the bathroom, stumbling around in the dark.

Flipping the light on and squinting at the sudden brightness, Rowan made for the sink and immediately splashed some water on his face.

Not Aelin, not Aelin, not Aelin, he repeated in his mind. That was not fucking Aelin.

Turning off the faucet a bit more harshly than was strictly necessary, Rowan looked in the mirror. He looked like a mess. He felt like a mess.

Trying to snap out of it—and failing miserably—Rowan groaned and cursed. He stormed out of the bathroom and made his way into the hall, looking for something to distract himself with.

Rowan was as quiet as possible as he moved down the hallway, not wanting to wake anyone. Not wanting to wake one person in particular.

He got to the end of the hallway and started around a corner he hadn’t been before, mentally marking the direction so that he hopefully wouldn’t get lost on the way back.

Rowan went a ways down this new hall, then aimlessly turned again and paused, breathing hard. He couldn’t stop imagining what it had felt like to… No. Nothing had happened. He needed to forget about the slightly dirty dream that had been about some random girl that he absolutely did not know at all.

He decided to head outside and go for a jog, perhaps in the woods where no one would see him, and where it was likely dark enough that he would trip and bump his head on a rock and get amnesia and forget about that fucking dream. Yes, that sounded like a lovely plan. Rowan started down the hall, knowing he was lost and not giving a shit. Hell, if he got desperate enough he might just climb out the first window he came into contact with to avoid searching for the front door.

Rowan turned another corner.

And ran into someone.

And was slammed back against the wall as the person clearly freaked out.

Rowan was pissed. He had no idea what had just happened or why, but no one got to push him around and get away with it.

He pushed off of the wall and started forward. There was zero light in the hall, and all he could do was blindly reach forward. His hand caught what was most likely an arm and Rowan tugged, savoring in the deep grunt that left the person’s mouth.

Out of nowhere, an elbow knocked him in the stomach. “Shit,” Rowa hissed as he was thrust again the wall, this time face-first.

This wasn’t a member of this household getting freaked out in the middle of the night and reacting. This was something else. Maybe it was a robber. Frankly, Rowan didn’t care anymore. Now he just wanted to beat the shit out of this motherfucker.

Rowan tried to kick his leg back, but he was in a really bad position. The person grabbed him by the arm and flung him into something that fell to the floor with Rowan and smashed. Something delicate apparently.

The noise of it hitting the floor beside him as he rolled to avoid the damage wasn’t like glass, it was deeper. Rowan couldn’t be sure in the dark, but he got the feeling one of the family’s treasured statues had toppled to the floor.

Thoroughly angry, he got to his feet unsteadily. Rowan could see just enough as his eyes adjusted, perhaps from a distant lamp reflecting around several corners that hadn’t been enough before, that he could make out a hazy figure. He took a step toward him, but that was as far as he got before the person shoved him against the wall once more, and something cracked against his head.

Rowan groaned, his head swimming. Distantly, he heard a dog barking, and footsteps. Footsteps that didn’t belong to the intruder.

A light snapped on. Rowan winced at the light and squinted around to see a figure in black, wearing some sort of goggles, spinning around toward the disturbance. Aelin stood by the light switch, surveying the scene with wide eyes.

Rowan tried to say something as a furious expression crossed Aelin’s features and she took an angry step toward the intruder, but no sound came out.

Luckily, before Aelin’s fury got her hurt, the figure spun around and darted down the hall. Aelin took another step, then looked over at him, hesitating. All Rowan could do was cling to his head as a sticky substance dripped down the back of it. Blood.

Muttering expletives that had Rowan gaping, Aelin gave one last mournful look in the direction the intruder had stormed, likely imagining how Rowan had cost her the chance to hunt them down. Then Aelin turned to him and hurried over the last few steps.

“Are you okay?” she asked, not a trace of tentativeness as lifted a hand to his head. Rowan winced at the feeling of the damage being prodded.

“Just dandy,” he murmured, still trying to focus.

The barking continued, but didn’t come nearer. Fleetfoot must have been locked up in a room. Aelin sent another look down the hall where the person had run and grabbed Rowan by the arm.

“Come on. You need to sit down.”

Rowan started to protest, but words failed him. Aelin’s slender fingers were firm around his bicep, but gentle as well, if that was even possible. She wrapped the other arm around his back, helping him over to an antique chair in a corner.

“Aelin?” a voice called. “Was that you?”

It was Elide’s voice, and Aelin made sure Rowan was seated before calling back, “Over here, Ellie.”

Elide wandered in cautiously, her face transforming into horror as she took in the area. Rowan, who had missed quite a bit of the scene as the light had been off, surveyed the room as well.

He had been right about the statue. A medium-sized old thing was on the floor. It was just chipped enough around the edges that Rowan couldn’t tell what it had been of. On the other side of the hallway was a mirror, tilted and clearly struggling to hang on to the wall. The glass was smashed and blood coated the surface, and Rowan realized that was what he had been pushed against. Wincing at the sight, Rowan looked back to Aelin, who was frowning at his head, and at a gash in his arm he hadn’t even noticed previously.

“Elide, call the police.” Aelin’s voice was strong.

Elide gulped and nodded, but didn’t move. “What happened?”

“Someone attacked Rowan.”

Rowan grunted in agreement.

Elide did not look satisfied with this response. “Who?”

“Some dude,” he muttered.

Aelin shot him a glare. “Be quiet, Rowan. You’re in pain.”

Rowan rolled his eyes instinctively, bending over in pain as the vertigo took over and he only proved Aelin’s point.

Sighing, Aelin said, “Go, Elide. Get your phone.”

She quickly took off down the hall, headed back to her room. Rowan rubbed at his forehead in pain.

“Did anything get taken?” he asked. “Or did we scare them away first?”

Aelin frowned. “We didn’t do anything. Intruder dude seemed content to hang around until I showed up.” She glanced around, then answered his previous question. “Nothing that I can see from here, but I’m not about to go looking. Besides, at least you’re okay. That’s the important thing.”

Before Rowan could wonder if he’d heard her right or if his mind was conjuring things, she added, “Too many questions.”

Rowan sighed. He opened with mouth, but Lorcan appeared in the hallway before he could say anything.

“What the fucking fuck did you fuckers just—” Lorcan cut himself off as he took in the scene in front of him, blearily rubbing at his eyes.

Aelin sighed and started explaining.

“I’d like to report an intruder.”

Elide had almost said burglar, but she wasn’t sure if anything had been taken. Hell, it probably hadn’t. It was likely the creep who’d been “haunting” the house, not some robber.

The creep that Elide was now nearly certain was not a member of the household, judging by the blood smearing the wall. None of the family would do that to Rowan.

And with this conclusion came a small, but definite, pit inside of Elide’s stomach.

Guilt.

She and Lorcan had known about the secret passage; they had know that someone, whether with malicious intent or not to be determined, was sneaking around in the night. And Elide had instructed Lorcan not to say anything.

Which made whatever had happened to Rowan her fault, and hers alone. But wherever the blame may lie, Elide was now adamant that she would find the culprit, and she would not be leaving until she did.

Elide gave the emergency operator the basics—she hardly knew anything more herself—and hung up after being assured a police car and a paramedic for Rowan were on the way.

Then she turned back to the door. Elide had locked herself in her and Aelin’s room just in case, and now she hesitated to re-enter the hall.

Steeling herself and trying to feel brave, Elide slid the lock back over and slipped into the hallway quietly.

Elide peered around a corner on the way back to her friends, and very nearly screamed. But it was just Uncle Orlon, appearing from another doorway.

“Elide? Is that you?”

Elide released a breath and hurried over to him. “Yes, Uncle O, it’s me. Someone went after Rowan. I think he came across them in the hall.”

Uncle O didn’t even look surprised. Elide frowned internally as he said, “Shouldn’t be wandering in the night with Brannon walking the halls. Should’ve known better.”

Elide just gave a tight smile and grabbed Uncle Orlon’s arm, assisting him down the hall.

“The cops should be here soon,” she added.

He halted. “The police? El, dear, there’s nothing they can do. They’re not paranormal investigators.”

Resisting the urge to slap him silly, Elide just said, “Too late now. Let’s go.”

They made their way back to the spot Elide had found Aelin and Rowan. Lorcan was there as well now, kicking some remnants of the statue aside.

They all looked up upon seeing Elide, then relaxed. She was loathe to admit how on edge this ghost business had gotten everybody.

Elide cleared her throat. “The police are on their way. How are you feeling, Rowan?”

He squinted. “Bit dizzy. Mostly fine, though.”

Elide nodded, pretending she wasn’t as concerned as she really was, and asked, “What exactly happened?”

Rowan glanced over his shoulder, seemingly in paranoia. “I was walking out here, and I ran into somebody. They kind of freaked and pushed me and whatever, and there was some elbowing, and it was really dark, and I was pushed into the statue and then the mirror, and I did grab them at one point, and then Aelin showed up and turned the light on.”

Elide scribbled this all down in her notepad, having withdrawn it when Rowan started speaking. She wrote his little tirade word for word, despite the apparent confusion of the statement. After all, human memory is a very fragile thing. Elide wanted it all fresh. Time would only muddle his thoughts further.

“And Aelin, what did you see?”

“Hmm, like a person in black. And some goggles. Like actual night vision goggles.”

Rowan nodded thoughtfully as if he hadn’t processed this. Elide was starting to lean toward concussion.

“And the intruder just kinda shimmied out of there real fast. I gave them my mad face, so I’m not really that surprised.”

Elide sighed. What incompetent witnesses they were. “In which direction did the intruder shimmy?”

Aelin nodded to a dark hall to Elide’s left. “There. They ran off that way.”

“Could you tell anything about this person from what you saw? Gender? Height? Skin, hair, or eye color?”

Aelin frowned in thought. “No color of anything, they were covered completely. But maybe it was actually a guy? I can’t be sure, but the hips and shoulders were kind of mannish. As for the height, I don’t know. Estimation’s not really my forte. He was next to Rowan though, and I didn’t notice a big difference there. So about Rowan’s height I suppose.”

Elide wrote her account down, then turned to Rowan. “Do you have anything to add to that?”

“No,” he replied wearily. “I didn’t even notice that much. The light was off the whole time and I was a little too distracted to catalog their/his/whatever measurements and shit.”

Elide nodded slightly. “Aelin, go to the front door and wait for the cops. You know how to get back here. Lorcan, go with her, just in case. Uncle O, you’re going to stay here with Rowan. Take this”—Elide handed him her cell phone—“and call Emrys and make sure all three of them are alright. Don’t tell them to leave their cottage, though; I don’t want them in danger. I want to look around a little, but I’ll stay close.”

Elide’s fears seemed to have vanished now that she was around others, and now that she had a problem that needed fixing. But she would likely be scared all over again when she ventured off the check the area. Pushing her worries aside, Elide made sure everyone was okay with their role and started down the hall.

Elide started looking at each damaged area around the open space in the hallway. First the mirror, then the statue. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Or rather, nothing was unsurprising. The mirror was bloody and cracked, the bust irreparable. But no other clues were to be found at the scene of the attack.

Uncle Orlon seemed in shock beside Rowan. He kept muttering the same thing, something along the lines of, “Brannon was never depicted as violent.”

Elide frowned, then turned and started down the hall the intruder was said to have left from. She kept her footsteps light and her body tense, continuously on guard.

The hallway quickly darkened. There was a lamp on a while back, but not in this area. Fighting back fear, Elide reached for the light switch she knew to be right next to the doorway beside her. Then she paused.

One sense at a time. That was something her mother said to her sometimes, when there was an especially different problem she couldn’t work out. So Elide not only left the hall pitch-black, but she tuned out all noise and reached a hand to the wall.

The wallpaper was peeling in this area. She knew it would be that ugly flower print that had gotten updated in most of the rest of the house. Elide started walking, trying to clear her mind. No more thoughts about the wallpaper, or theories on what she was looking for. Now was the time to just feel.

Elide lost herself in her head, so far away that even her fears of being alone in the dark after an attack dissipated. She kept walking, her fingers trailing along the wall lightly. Elide came to a turn, or so she surmised from the edge of the wall, but she only followed it around the corner in the darkness.

Elide was waiting for it, waiting for something, anything. She was just about to stop and turn the light on when her fingernails caught on a protuberance.

Trying to keep her breathing steady, Elide hooked her fingers in the small crack in the wall, making it just barely not level, and tried to pry it open. She pulled out first, as that seemed the easiest way it would open. She also dug her fingers in both ways, not knowing which side of the crack would reveal an opening.

Elide frowned as nothing budged, then tried pushing.

No luck.

She turned and felt around the wall for a light switch, finally finding one a little ways down the hall. The narrow corridor, a place Elide knew to be quite a few rooms away from where Rowan and Uncle Orlon currently were, was illuminated dimly. Most of the house had updated appliances and light fixtures, contradicting the old style, but some of the unused sections of the house, such as this one, revealed flickering, yellow bulbs and peeling wallpaper.

Elide scanned the hall, but she couldn’t locate the crack. She ran her hand back over the wall and found it, then tried locating it with her eyes once more. Knowing where it was allowed Elide to just barely focus on the minuscule imperfection.

Brow furrowing in concentration Elide dug her fingernails deeper into the gap and started tugging.

Minutes passed. Too many. Elide yanked on the crack both ways, then shoved her body into the hall, trying to force it open. She knocked and pounded. She scowled and huffed. Nothing happened.

Elide decided she was behaving like a madwoman and the crack in the wall was just a crack in the wall. She pulled one more time with all her body strength, in one last desperate effort before she gave up. Just as Elide was deciding to let go, her fingers slipped and the momentum sent her tumbling onto the floor with a yelp.

Something clicked. Elide groaned and looked over to see what had caused the noise. She was splayed across the wooden boards in a position she had absolutely no clue as to how she arrived in. Elide found her elbow against the baseboard. A small rectangular section of the dusty, white baseboard was now pushed in. Like a button.

Elide sat up as her eyes widened. Her elbow, removed from its spot, wasn’t touching it anymore and it had fallen back into place, seamlessly fitting into the rest of the board. A victorious glee flowed through Elide’s blood as she brought her hand to the spot and pushed it in again.

Another click. This one louder, as the mechanism unlatched.

The wall folded in silently and smoothly, leaving a small gap in the wall.

Elide scrambled to her feet and pushed the door-shaped bit of wall open farther. She pressed her toes against the baseboard experimentally, marveling at how easy it would be to lightly kick it on the way out, not even having to bend over to open the door. To someone unsure of the presence of a door, it would be nearly impossible to find, but to someone rushing down the hall with an exact location in mind, it would be so easy to leave.

And to come inside.

The black space suddenly assaulted Elide with the knowledge that someone had left through there after attacking Rowan. That they could still be inside.

Elide stepped away from the inky unknown, pulling the door back closed. Her breathing was heavy and afraid.

“Elide!” she faintly heard someone call. It sounded like Aelin.

Elide swallowed and spun around, headed back to the others.

Fleetfoot was not happy.

Not only had she been trapped in the room while Aelin got to go investigate the noise, she had not been allowed to lick the blood off of Rowan’s head either—out of pure concern, of course. And on top of all this unfairness, now no one was listening to Fleetfoot as she barked, announcing the presence of a piece of black fabric caught on a nail close to the floor.

Humans were so clueless.

The interrogation was not fun for Aelin. Well, perhaps she was being dramatic in calling it an interrogation. But she didn’t enjoy being questioned when she had so many questions herself.

The police officer taking her statement was quite fed up with her by the end. Aelin had received several glares at her snarky responses and half-answers. In truth, there was a dangerous, raging fire in her veins, livid and ready to set the world to flames.

And burn whoever had attacked Rowan to ash.

Not specifically because she cared what happened to Rowan, but because she didn’t approve of someone breaking into her house, destroying her property, and possibly being the same person who was “haunting” them and driving her uncle to madness.

It definitely had nothing to do with Rowan.

Speaking of Rowan, he had been taken to the hospital almost immediately after the cops had shown up, despite his many, profuse complaints. In spite of the brave act, he’d been woozy enough by the end of it that he hadn’t made a single comment about how unnecessary the ambulance was.

Elide had reassured everybody with the guess that it was just a concussion, which should be easy to treat. Lorcan had certainly been glad to hear it—Rowan was his best friend, after all.

Everyone had responded to the police’s questions with the unsaid agreement not to mention the ghost of the manor. Even if the cops believed it, though they certainly wouldn’t, there wasn’t anything they could do quite yet. The staff—Emrys, Malakai, and Luca—had been called up from their cottage on the grounds with a police escort, just it case. None of them had been asked nearly as many things, having been unaware of the entire incident. Only Malakai, taking out the compost, had been questioned nearly as much as them; he hadn’t seen anything, and the police quickly lost interest.

And Elide… Aelin knew her best friend better than anyone else in the world, and she would be a fool not to notice something was wrong. She’d been worried about Elide’s safety when the petite girl had announced she was going to look around by herself, but Aelin had known better than to argue with that obstinate look in her eyes. And now she was acting shifty and her gaze kept flicking back to the hallway the intruder had run down. Aelin had received only a curt ‘later’ when she asked Elide what she’d found.

Which meant one of the gang was out of action and another was withholding information from her. Great. Like Aelin could possibly feel any more useless.

The officers left after a long inspection and a promise to follow some leads, whatever the hell that meant. Rowan was long gone, and all they knew was that they would be contacted with any important information when the time came, again leaving much to the imagination. The house was left empty once more, aside from the periodic barking of Fleetfoot.

Emrys, Malakai, and Luca all offered to stay with the remaining family and guests for the night, but their cottage seemed the safer place to be and Aelin and Elide sent them back. Uncle Orlon was tired enough that he didn’t much protest when the girls moved him across the hall from their own room and next to Lorcan’s. They’d also stuck Fleetfoot, who eventually settled down and stopped barking, in with him as a precaution.

Elide disappeared into Lorcan’s room as soon as she had a chance, and Aelin could only watch in disbelief as the brunette tugged the man into his room and firmly shut the door on her.

What the fuck was going on in this bloody mansion?

Aelin was probably expected to go back to sleep. As if there was any chance of that happening. Instead of heading back to her room alone, Aelin started down the hallway.

An hour passed.

In that time, Aelin learned three things about herself.

Just when Aelin was heading back to her room, intent on pushing all worries aside and crashing on the bed, a knock sounded on the door.

Frowning, Aelin turned. She was in the foyer, having recklessly searched the house for clues of some sort and coming up with zilch. They were supposed to receive a call for updates on Rowan and not nearly enough time had passed for the police to be back.

Cautiously, she padded down the thick carpet and went to the front door. A small amount of light was shining in through the stained glass panes on either side of the door, as morning was just arriving. Aelin peeked through one window and squinted as she tried to make out the figure, distorted by the stained glass.

As soon as Aelin realized who was impatiently standing outside the door, she cursed out loud.

Aelin flipped the locks and yanked the door open, glowering at the man outside.

He scowled right back at her, taking in her ragged appearance and surprised face. “I hope you didn’t forget I was coming,” Darrow uttered stiffly.

“It’s not your fault,” Lorcan said.

Elide shook her head. “I knew someone was creeping around. I knew someone could have gotten hurt.”

“So did I,” Lorcan countered.

“And I told you not to tell anybody.”

Lorcan sighed. “Look, you want to feel bad about this? Fine. It’s all your fault. Rowan’s in the hospital because of you. You’re a threat to society.” Elide blinked. “But that’s not really important right now. Stop moping and start thinking, woman. What the fuck is going on?”

Elide, gaping, opened her mouth, but no sound came out. A moment passed, then she said, “I guess we should check out the secret door again, both of us this time.”

“I guess we should,” Lorcan replied.

Elide paused. “It’s somewhere over here.” She extracted her notepad and consulted the pages. Apparently the door was so hard to find she couldn’t even remember where it was an hour after finding it.

“Here,” Elide eventually whispered, so quietly Lorcan wasn’t sure if it was meant for him. She delicately kicked a bit of baseboard and Lorcan went slack-jawed as a portion of the wall swung open.

“Damn…”

Elide murmured her agreement. “Should we… go inside?”

Lorcan hesitated. “Probably, yeah.”

Elide nodded, but made no move forward. Lorcan stayed put as well.

“Do you think he’s still…” Elide trailed off.

“Let’s check another time,” Lorcan suggested. “We don’t have to do this right now.”

Elide swallowed, and to Lorcan’s surprise, squared her shoulders and lifted her head. “No. I wouldn’t let anyone else get hurt. I need to look.”

With that, she stepped into the darkness. Lorcan quickly stepped inside as well, never one to be called a coward. He stepped too far and ran into Elide, already swallowed by darkness.

“Sorry,” Lorcan muttered. “You wouldn’t happen to have a flashlight, would you?”

He heard Elide release a breath that sounded awfully like a laugh. She made a faint rummaging sound and pulled out… a flashlight from not even the gods knew where. He could suddenly see as the click illuminated a musty corridor following the wall on either side, narrow enough he would probably have to walk sideways.

Lorcan shot Elide a glance. “If we get lost in the woods one of these days and you pull out a tent, fire-starter, and fourteen-day food kit, I’m not going to be surprised.”

She grinned. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Lorcan shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Lead the way, Indian Jones.”

Lorcan was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the faint blush gracing her face as she muttered a reply and turned around. He smirked as he started after her.

The corridor led in two directions, and the one they chose led them quite a ways down, then they reached another bypass. “Which way?” Lorcan whispered, both of them under the silent agreement not to be noisy.

“Neither. Look right here,” Elide replied.

Lorcan looked at what she way tracing with her fingers. She directed the flashlight on it and suddenly Lorcan could make out the frame of a door. “Another entrance.”

“Yeah,” Elide said. “How do you think we open it?”

Lorcan shook his head, even though he was behind Elide and she couldn’t see the motion. “How was the other one opened from this side?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know,” said Elide. “That’s why I left the door back there open. But it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?”

She didn’t respond for a moment, lost in thought. Then she said, “I’ve been counting our steps and keeping track of the turns. We’re just outside the living room now.”

“Which one?” Lorcan asked drily.

“The one we were sitting in last night,” Elide returned, ignoring the jab. “We don’t need to spend time trying to open the door. We can just go back out and open it from the outside, since we know how to do that.”

They decided to go back out and try it, still finding no way to get the door open from this side. Lorcan was handed the flashlight as it was too cramped to switch positions, and he led the way back down, his broad shoulders forcing him to walk sideways.

All sorts of ugly scenarios raced through Lorcan’s mind as they walked, much to his embarrassment. Perhaps they would pass the door somehow and be lost in the tunnels forever. Or maybe the “ghost” was waiting for them. Or they could find the door, but it would be closed and they wouldn’t know how to open it.

Despite his concerns, they found their way back quickly enough, and the opening was still there. Lorcan exited a bit more quickly than necessary, and decided to ignore Elide’s look at the movement.

They shut the door behind them and dusted themselves off, covered in all sorts of cobwebs and woodshavings from the unfinished walls.

“Ready to check out the other entrance?”

Elide shook her head, surprising Lorcan. “No.”

“Because…?”

“Because I changed my mind.” Elide looked at him. “We can do this all day, finding the doors, mapping them, figuring out where this thing goes. But what good will it do us? We need something more concrete than finding secret entrances in places we would expect to.”

Lorcan’s first thought was that she was just scared and unwilling to go back inside, but as he thought about it, he realized Elide was right. As much as something needed to be done about the tunnels, they were in no position to be the ones to do it, and having the knowledge of where each door was did nothing for them. They needed something more to exert themselves on.

“Then let’s go back to my room and talk it out some more,” Lorcan said.

“Talk about what, exactly?” Elide retorted, and Lorcan got the sense she was losing her self-confidence all over again.

“Well, about what’s going on on the first floor, for starters.”

Elide frowned. “The first floor?”

Lorcan smirked, pleased to have figured out something Miss Know-It-All hadn’t. “The floor plan was missing for the first floor even though these tunnels are on the second. And they’re too thin to show up on the plan. Something else is down there.”

Elide frowned, probably trying to think of all the reasons he could be wrong, then her face blanched. “Gods.”

Lorcan crossed his arms. “We couldn’t make out where the entrances were on the floor plan because they all blend seamlessly to the rest of the wall; we could only make out the general space in the walls. But the first floor was missing, and as you said, there was no other reason for it to be gone. So why was it taken?”

Elide eyed him sideways.

“What?” he asked gruffly, caught off guard by the assessing look she sent his way.

Elide just tilted her head. “You’re smarter than you look.”

Lorcan frowned, ignoring the compliment. “I don’t look smart to you?”

“No,” Elide replied bluntly.

Lorcan opened his mouth to respond, but before he could he was cut off.

By a blood-curdling scream.