“I could feel him,” she said, touching her neck. The phantom touch of his fingers lingered, leaving behind goose pimples. “It was as if…as if he was trying to strangle me.”

Ben’s eyes widened. He turned Remi to face him and moved her hair away from her shoulder. He was eerily quiet as his fingers traced her tender flesh.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” he murmured, “but there are red marks the size of fingerprints on your skin.”

“What?” The hair on her arms stood on end.

“They’re faint.” He moved her hair back over her shoulder. “But they are there.”

Remi cupped her neck, walking backward until the back of her knees caught the bed. She collapsed, tears streaming down her face again. She bit back a sob, too afraid to admit it was real, too afraid to question why.

“Remi?” Ben’s voice was muffled. “I’m going to have Sylvie draw you a bath, and then I’m going to send Paul to fetch your cousin.” He was a blur as he knelt in front of her. “I need to leave you, but only for a moment. Will you be alright?”

No, she thought, but she nodded anyway.

He wasn’t gone for long, returning with Sylvie close behind him.

“I’m going to leave you with Sylvie now,” he said, his voice soothing, “but will you give me your hands first?”

No, no, no, she thought, but she gave them over anyway.

She stood. Her legs were taken out from underneath her as Ben swept her into his arms. He carried her to the washroom and waited until the bath was full, whispering: You’re safe. It was what she needed to hear, and eventually, it was enough to convince her there were no longer hands wrapped around her throat.

“Monsieur.” Sylvie’s voice trembled. “I can take her from here.”

Ben set her down wordlessly and offered Remi an encouraging nod before he ducked out of the room. Sylvie closed the door and helped her undress.

The water was hot, but Remi barely felt it against her skin. If it wasn’t for the quiet string of Sylvie’s apologies and sniffles, Remi might have forgotten she was there.

After a long bath, Remi put on a simple black dress. Sylvie plaited her hair, then dutifully led her to the foyer. At the bottom of the stairs, Elise and Ben chatted quietly, stopping altogether when Remi made her appearance. Sylvie excused herself, keeping her eyes downcast.

“You’re pale.” Elise frowned.

“I had a fright.”

Elise eyed Ben, who had stepped beside Remi. “So I’ve heard.”

“Your cousin has offered to take you out for the day,” Ben said.

Remi turned on him. “But I can’t. I’m not allowed.”

His expression hinted at his concern. “I think we can forgo tradition this once.”

“If you think it’s best.” She was hesitant to go, but it was a far better option than hiding herself away in another room. Or clinging needlessly to Ben at all hours.

“It is,” Elise exclaimed, looping her arm through Remi’s. “You won’t even need to leave the carriage. We’ll simply take a long ride around the island. Guillaume has kindly offered to be our escort.”

Poor Guillaume, Remi thought. She must have begged him.

“No one will see you,” Ben confirmed, sensing her hesitation.

Remi did not argue further. She let Elise whisk her away and stuff her inside the coach. They huddled together and, with one last look, Remi waved to Ben. He was worried, pretending not to be for her benefit. Still, she was grateful to leave, to have a moment outside of the manor to breathe.

Once they were down the hill and the manor was out of sight, Elise unleashed question after question.

“What happened?”

Remi touched the collar of her dress and swallowed. “A nightmare.”

“About Leith?”

“Yes.” Remi nodded and bit her lip. “But it isn’t the first one. I’ve been having a lot of nightmares recently.”

“That’s awful.” Elise frowned.

“And it’s not just that.” Remi took a deep breath. “Someone has been sending me…letters.”

Elise scrunched her nose. “What kind of letters?”

“Crooked love letters,” she said plainly. “The first one was waiting in my room after the wake. My locket, a wedding gift from Edgar, went missing then, too.”

Elise covered her mouth. “A stranger was in your room?”

“I don’t know how, but yes.” Remi nodded. “Multiple times.”

“Why would anyone do such a thing?”

“I asked myself the same question, and I think the truth is much darker than you or I want to believe.” Remi wished she’d brought the letters with her. “The second letter came with a parcel, and inside was my locket—wrapped in a bloody kerchief. Whoever this is...they’re not an admirer.”

Elise turned pale white. “Whose blood?”

“I don’t know.” Remi shivered. “I don’t want to know.”

While Elise ruminated, Remi banged on the roof of the carriage. “Take us into town,” she called.

Guillaume called back, “Where?”

“To the miller!”

Elise pulled at her skirt and yanked Remi back down. She hissed, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking,” she said, recalling Leith’s face and empty white eyes, “that I would like to visit the miller and his wife.”

There might never be another chance to visit or offer her condolences. It was the least she could do when they had been kind enough to visit during Edgar’s wake. But part of Remi wanted to reassure herself, in some small way, that Leith would never hurt her. That the phantom she saw meant no ill will, that in death, he did not blame her for his end.

When the carriage finally stopped, they were on the outskirts of town, having passed through the market and its many faces. Remi exited the carriage with Elise close behind. Nothing, not even fear, could keep her from knocking on the door.

Leith’s mother, Manette, answered just as quickly as the first tap.