I turned.
“Leave us.”
My guards hesitated.
“Now.”
Their footsteps faded up the stone stairs.
Evelyn waited until the door shut.
Then she reached behind one of the wine racks.
I nearly laughed.
Then I watched her press two fingers beneath a wooden ledge I had walked past thousands of times.
Something clicked.
A narrow panel opened.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
My name was written across the front.
Dominic.
Sofia’s handwriting.
For several seconds, I could not move.
The dead have a way of becoming sacred because they can no longer disappoint you.
Sofia had been dead for seven years, yet one curve of ink was enough to make me feel twenty-nine again, standing beneath a white arch while she laughed because the wind had blown her veil into my face.
Grace heard my breathing change.
“What is it?”
I picked up the envelope.
“How long has this been here?”
“Longer than I’ve been in this house,” Evelyn said.