My gaze met Silas’s just as he turned, his eyes locking with mine.
For a fleeting moment, his meaningful smile vanished, but its shadow still sent a cold shiver down my spine.
It wasn’t just Caelum; even the villagers seemed like strangers.
At first, when word spread about Silas taking over my household, some of my father’s old friends came by, offering their hollow words of comfort, telling me to “hold on” and that “life isn’t easy.”
But soon enough, it felt like no one cared whether I lived or died.
I couldn’t say what Amaris had been whispering to people or if it was just that Silas’s harmless, sincere face was too convincing.
But the villagers’ sympathy for me quickly shifted into thinly veiled disdain.
After all, living with someone as good as the dead was hardly a light burden.
Taking advantage of the pleasant weather, I thought about going for a walk, but before I even reached the old locust tree at the village’s edge, a flood of gossip washed over me, each word sharper than the last.
“If you ask me, that sickly Alaric is truly blessed by his ancestors.”
Liora’s cutting voice sliced through the air.