Aryyah stood at the door of the workshop, the portrait frames in her arms, but her feet wouldn't move; something kept her rooted there, some invisible weight that pressed down on her shoulders and made the thought of returning to the mansion unbearable.

Behind her, Cletus sensed her hesitation and spoke softly.

"You don't have to go," he said. "Not yet, not if you're not ready."

Aryyah turned back to face him, her eyes still red from crying, her face vulnerable in a way she hadn't allowed ...