Chapter 260: What the Dark Heard
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A few hours later... Lily left at sunset. Not because either of them wanted the day to end there, but because if she stayed much longer, the house itself might begin to feel what had changed between them.
And Sekhmet, for all the dangerous paths he was now willing to walk, had no interest in letting servants, old guards, wandering maids, or Bat Bat discover the shape of tomorrow before tomorrow arrived.
So Lily left.
But not lightly.
She stood at the threshold of the side corridor for a long moment before going, the evening glow touching one side of her face while the other rested in the softer shadow of the house. Elena had already tactfully disappeared to give them the illusion of privacy, though Sekhmet would have wagered a great deal of money that she still knew exactly how many breaths were passing in the corridor.
Lily looked at him with that mixture of steadiness and warmth that had become uniquely dangerous to him.
"Tomorrow," she said.
Sekhmet held her gaze. "Tomorrow."
Her fingers brushed him once. It was brief. Not enough to feed his hunger properly. More than enough to wake all of it.
"You are not allowed to change your mind tonight," she said.
"That was my line."
"It is mine now."
He almost smiled. "Dangerous woman."
"You keep saying that as though it is a warning. At this point it sounds like praise."
"It is both."
That pleased her far too much.
She stepped closer one last time, lowered her voice, and said, "Do not do anything stupid while I am gone."
Sekhmet stared at her for one whole second.
Then one corner of his mouth moved.
"That instruction has never once made a man safer."
"It might if the man is about to get secretly married."
"That still sounds absurd."
Lily’s expression softened. "And yet."
"And yet," he agreed.
There was a pause then. Quiet. Thick. Full of everything they were not doing in a hallway where someone might appear at any moment.
Lily’s eyes moved once over his face, as if memorizing it for the night ahead.
Then she said, more quietly, "Sleep if you can."
Sekhmet almost laughed.
"I will attempt the impossible."
"Good."
She turned then, because if she did not, he suspected she might come back to him instead of leaving, and if that happened, all the careful structure of the evening would be lost in a much more immediate kind of disaster.
He watched her go.
Not until she vanished entirely around the bend. That would have been too revealing to any hidden eyes.
Only until the sound of her steps faded enough that his body could no longer track them separately from the house.
Then he exhaled once and turned back inward.
The secret wedding will be tomorrow.
That sentence still felt unreal. Not wrong. Not frightening. Just immense.
By the time he reached the inner sitting room again, Elena was already there. Of course she was.
She stood with one maid before her, giving instructions in the precise, calm tone she used for matters too important to survive confusion.
"It will be private," Elena was saying. "No chatter. No decorative excess. Clean room. Proper table. Candlelight, but not so much that it looks theatrical. A ceremonial blade if one can be prepared discreetly. Fresh cloth. Good wine. Food afterward."
The maid, to her eternal credit, did not blink once.
"Yes, Lady Elena."
Elena continued, "No one outside this house speaks of what they see tomorrow. Not the corridor maids. Not the kitchen. Not the stable hands. If I hear even one accidental story drifting through the walls, the person responsible will regret learning language."
The maid bowed more deeply. "Understood."
Then Elena noticed Sekhmet.
Her gaze flicked over him once, reading more than he liked and less than he feared.
"She has gone?"
"Yes."
Elena nodded once.
Then, as though discussing the placement of flowers for lunch rather than a hidden wedding between the city lord’s daughter and a blood-awakened young master standing on the edge of becoming something ancient and dangerous, she said, "It will be ready."
Sekhmet looked at her. "You accepted this too quickly."
Elena’s face remained unreadable. "No. I accepted it at the speed required."
"That is not the same."
"It is close enough."
The maid wisely withdrew before the conversation could become family shaped.
Once they were alone, Elena folded her arms.
"You have your father’s face when your mind is made up," she said.
"So I have been told."
"Yes. By me. Repeatedly."
Sekhmet’s mouth shifted faintly.
Elena went on, quieter now. "There is still time to delay if delay is what protects her better."
He held her gaze.
"No."
That was all.
No explanation. No long defense. No pretty phrasing to soften the line.
Just no.
Elena looked at him for several heartbeats.
Then she gave the smallest nod.
"Yes," she said almost to herself. "Exactly like him."
Sekhmet did not know whether that was a compliment or a curse.
Possibly both.
Elena’s expression changed slightly. "Then be ready for what follows after the vow. The vow itself will be the easy part."
"I know."
"Do you?"
He looked toward the darkening window. "No. But I know enough."
Elena was quiet for a moment. "Good."
That was the end of it. At least for now. Night came slowly over Dawn House.
The house quieted. Trays were collected. Doors closed. Lamps dimmed into warmer pools of gold. Bat Bat had to be bribed into staying away from his corridor with sweet fruit and a fabricated rumor about a lizard in the kitchen.
And when the hour had grown late enough that most of the household would not question his absence, Sekhmet went to seek answers.
Real answers.
He opened the Void Land from his room and stepped through alone.
The silence of that hidden place greeted him like a familiar blade.
The air was still.
The dark sky waited overhead.
Far away, Auri’s house and the small stubborn spread of green lay under their own strange stillness, but Sekhmet did not turn that way tonight. His mind was too fixed, too coldly aligned.
He went toward the holding ground where Sofia and Natasha remained.
The two sealed half-god true vampires sat apart from one another on dark stone, watched from a distance by Vera and Vela. Sekhmet gave the guard duty to them. The twins straightened the moment Sekhmet entered the space, but he gave them only a glance.
"Leave us," he said.
Neither argued.
Vera hesitated only long enough to ask, "Within hearing range?"
"Yes. Outside sight."
That was enough.
The twins withdrew into the dark edge of the ground, present if needed, absent if not.
Sofia lifted her head first.