Chapter 7

Lysander's POV:

I stared at her, trying to process what she'd just asked me. Climb? The woman gave me an apologetic smile that somehow made her even more beautiful in the moonlight, and I felt my pulse quicken for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.

"For safety reasons, all my first-floor windows are locked from the inside," she explained, gesturing toward the castle wall. "But there's a window on the second floor that should be open. That wall right there. It's not too high."

I followed her pointing finger to a window maybe fifteen feet up, its frame barely visible in the darkness. My head swam slightly as I tried to gauge the distance and calculate whether I could actually make that climb. It wasn't that I couldn't do it—I'd done rock climbing before, had a decent gym membership that I used religiously to work off stress—but something about this whole situation felt deeply wrong.

"You're really the owner of this castle?" I asked, unable to keep the skepticism out of my voice. If the door was locked, how had she gotten out here in the first place? And why would anyone lock themselves out of their own home?

She nodded earnestly, her gray eyes meeting mine with what seemed like genuine sincerity. "I just came back from a walk with Jinx," she said, and I noticed for the first time that she was wearing what looked like silk pajamas, the fabric clinging to her tall frame in a way that made me quickly look away. "My mother must have stopped by while I was out and locked the door. She's... protective like that."

There was a pause, and I could feel her watching me, waiting for my response. When I didn't immediately agree, she added, "If you're not comfortable with it, I can climb up myself and open the door from inside. You can wait out here."

I looked at her again, taking in the thin pajama pants and matching top that seemed completely inadequate for climbing stone walls. She was tall but appeared delicate, almost fragile in the moonlight, and the thought of her attempting that climb while I stood uselessly below didn't sit right with me. My mother had raised me better than that, even if every instinct I had was screaming that this entire situation was insane.

"No, I'll do it," I heard myself say, shaking my head at my own stupidity. "I work out regularly. My grip strength is pretty good."

Her face lit up with what looked like genuine relief and gratitude, and I felt an unexpected warmth spread through my chest at having caused that reaction. She was beautiful—not just conventionally pretty, but striking in a way that made it hard to look away. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the darkness, making her black hair and gray-blue eyes stand out even more dramatically. And when she smiled, revealing those two slightly prominent canines that gave her mature features an almost endearing quality, I found myself smiling back despite my better judgment.

I approached the wall and studied it more carefully, my fingers tracing the rough stone surface as I looked for handholds. The castle was ancient, its walls weathered and uneven, but there weren't as many obvious grips as I would have liked. This was going to be harder than I'd initially thought. I took a deep breath, reached up to grab a protruding stone, and began to climb.

My muscles strained as I pulled myself up, my fingers finding purchase in cracks and crevices that probably hadn't been used for this purpose in centuries. The stone was cold and slightly damp, making my grip less secure than I would have preferred. About halfway up, my foot slipped and I nearly lost my hold entirely, my heart leaping into my throat as I scrambled to regain my balance. Below me, I heard a sharp intake of breath from the woman, though when I glanced down she was standing perfectly still, her face tilted up toward me with an expression I couldn't quite read in the darkness.

I forced myself to focus, testing each handhold carefully before trusting it with my full weight. My arms were burning by the time I finally reached the window ledge, my breathing coming in harsh gasps as I sat on the narrow sill and tried to catch my breath. The window was indeed open, just a crack, the old wood frame warped enough to leave a gap. I looked down at the woman and gave her an okay sign, grinning despite my exhaustion.

She was looking up at me with what I could only describe as a mixture of admiration and gratitude, and something about that expression made my chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the physical exertion. "Thank you," she called up softly, and I found myself feeling ridiculously pleased that I'd been able to help her.

I pushed the window open wider and swung my legs inside, dropping down into what was clearly a bedroom. The room was darker than the night outside, and it took my eyes a moment to adjust. When they did, I found myself surprised by what I saw. This was definitely a woman's room, but it was nothing like what I'd expected. Instead of pastels or bright colors, the space was decorated in deep, moody shades of purple, black, and wine red. There was no vanity covered in makeup, no overflowing closet spilling clothes across the floor. The room felt almost sparse, though what furniture there was seemed expensive and carefully chosen.

But it was the atmosphere that struck me most. There was something in the air, some quality I couldn't quite name, that made my heart race and my skin prickle with awareness. It wasn't fear, exactly, though there was certainly an edge of danger to it. It was more like anticipation, like standing on the edge of a cliff and feeling the pull of the void below. I shook my head, trying to clear it of these strange thoughts, and hurried toward the door. The woman was still outside waiting, and it wasn't safe for her to be standing alone in the dark like that.

The hallway beyond the bedroom was pitch black, no lights anywhere, and I had to feel my way along the wall to find the stairs. All the windows seemed to be covered or shuttered, blocking out even the faint moonlight that had illuminated the clearing. I moved carefully, one hand on the wall and the other stretched out in front of me, trying not to think about how creepy this whole situation was becoming. I'd made it maybe halfway down the stairs when a soft glow appeared below me, and I looked up to find the woman standing at the bottom of the staircase, holding a lit candle.

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