Chapter 9 A Masked Visitor

The storm returned that night.

It rolled in slowly, with clouds like bruises and wind like whispers at the windows. Ravenhall seemed to shiver in anticipation - as if something long buried was stirring in its sleep.

Ariella sat alone in the drawing room, wrapped in a velvet shawl and her own thoughts. The mirror from the hidden chamber rested on the coffee table, dull now, its surface no longer glowing. But she couldn't stop staring at it.

He will betray you. Just like the others.

That sentence haunted her more than she wanted to admit.

A soft knock interrupted the silence.

Three taps. Slow. Measured.

Ariella blinked. "Damian?"

But when she opened the front door, it wasn't him.

It was a woman.

Dressed in a heavy black cloak, her face obscured by a porcelain mask. She stood beneath the dripping awning as if the storm didn't touch her. Behind her, a long black car idled, its headlights glowing like twin eyes in the fog.

"Can I help you?" Ariella asked, unsure whether to be afraid or annoyed.

The woman held out a folded letter - sealed with crimson wax bearing the mark of the Raven.

Ariella took it cautiously.

To the Bride of the House,

You have entered a place that feeds on hearts and hides its teeth in promises. Be wary of the one who shares your bed - and the one who shares your blood.

When the veil thins, you must choose: love or truth. One will save you. One will doom you.

There was no signature.

Ariella looked up - but the masked woman was already gone. No footsteps. No sound. Nothing but fading tire tracks in the rain-soaked gravel.

"What is this?" Damian asked when she showed him the note later that night.

They stood in the library, firelight flickering between them.

"She called me Bride of the House," Ariella whispered. "And she said someone close to me will betray me. You or-someone related to me."

Damian read the letter again, jaw tight. "No one should know what's happening here. Not outside these walls."

"She knew," Ariella said. "And she wanted me to be afraid."

He stared at her, something unreadable behind his eyes. "Are you?"

She wanted to lie.

But she nodded. "Yes."

Damian reached forward, brushing a lock of damp hair from her cheek. "Good," he said. "Fear means you're paying attention."

"But fear doesn't protect people," she said. "It didn't protect my mother."

Damian's gaze darkened. "No. It didn't."

He turned to the window. "Tomorrow, we open the vault. After that... there's no turning back."

Lightning cracked in the distance, illuminating his silhouette.

And from somewhere upstairs, a door slammed on its own.

Ravenhall was waiting.

End of Chapter Nine.