The night air was thick, thick with quiet that wasn't so calm. Amelia sat on the window sill of her bedroom in Alexander's house, gazing out over gardens, now darkness. The roses she once found so beautiful now were deadly and dangerous, their thorns catching whatever spark of moonlight filtered down from the clouds. Her heart thudded as if to alert her that beauty before her was a fraud.

She rested her head on the cold glass. She had not slept for days. Whenever she'd managed to close her ...