Chapter 7
Penelope’s breath came unevenly. Whether from the interruption or the implication of the Guardian’s report, Mingxi could not tell.
He turned back to her. “We need to leave this room,” he said quietly.
Her eyes flicked toward the floor behind her, toward something he could not see.
“No,” she said, too fast.
Mingxi caught the tone. Raw. Protective. Balanced on the edge of flaring again.
He softened his voice, but not his authority. “Lady Penelope. Whatever remains in this manor may still be dangerous. I cannot protect you if you stay here.”
Her fingers twitched at her sides. She glanced back again, barely, at whatever she had been guarding. He could not see what it was, but he saw the fear. The hesitation. The grief she did not realize she was showing him.
Mingxi extended his hand. Not to touch her, but palm up, an offer.
“You can return,” he said. “Once the manor is secured. But for now, we leave.”
She stared at his hand. Then at his face. She straightened her spine, drew in a sharp breath, and stepped forward, moving herself away from her haven, out of the nursery, and into the hall.
Mingxi followed.
The door swung slowly shut behind them.
The portrait remained unseen on the floor, moonlight pooling over Lysandra’s painted smile.