75. Ginevra

Ginevra

Sinclair bounces the Viper into the driveway later in the afternoon. He kills the engine and I wipe a stray tear from my cheek before he can notice.

I reach for the doorknob, but he’s already walking around the car to get it for me. I try to get out on my own, but my feet won’t hold me up. I’m exhausted. Recovering, but still very tired. The physician said the poison was completely gone and a few days of rest would be enough to get me back on my feet. He had insisted that I still stay, but I couldn’t stand being at the castle anymore.

“Let me,” Sinclair says softly, hands sliding under my knees as he lifts me up. His face has a nasty grimace when he glances up. “I’m afraid we have guests.”

I follow his gaze to the familiar cars parked around the yard and I smile a little. “They must’ve missed you.”

“We very well know they’re just busybodies,” he mutters, carrying me inside. “I’ll get the urn when—”

“Leave it there,” I whisper, closing my eyes to push another onslaught of tears