The Kingdom

My gaze traveled up the mansion’s façade as I climbed out of the car. The ground floor veranda was well lit, but the upper balconies lay in darkness. Even so, I fancied I could see a shadow way up high staring down at me. A ghost? I wouldn’t be surprised. Not in this house. Not in these hills. The whole area seemed afflicted by some dark spell, some evil enchantment. I knew how daft that would sound to anyone other than my father, but I couldn’t discount my instincts. Too many strange things had happened in the short time I’d been in Asher Falls.

I climbed the steps and rang the bell, feeling a little underdressed. The only decent outfit I’d brought with me was a plain black sheath that I often wore when invited to speak or give interviews. If I’d been back home in Charleston, I could have accessorized it with pearls and pumps, but tonight I had to make do with flats and a cardigan.

A uniformed maid answered the door and gave a little curtsy as I relinquished my bag. I had only a brief impression of crystal chandeliers illuminating a magnificent double staircase before I was ushered down a spacious hallway. As I walked along behind her, my gaze was drawn to the faded paintings on the walls—generations of Ashers, I presumed—and I couldn’t help but notice the curl of the brocade wallpaper and the water-stained ceiling. Despite its grandeur, the house smelled old and musty, and the air had the damp chill of a tomb. A place where time had stood still. A home more suited to the dead than the living.

The maid waved me through the arched doorway, and the room fell silent as I entered. I hastily searched the small crowd for Thane, and my gaze lit upon Luna Kemper, breathtakingly lovely in lavender chiffon. She smiled and nodded, but I had the distinct impression she was shocked to see me. She was flanked by two women. I recognized Sidra’s mother from the day before and the redhead from the photograph in Luna’s office. The picture had captured a hovering ghost in the background, and I searched the window behind them now for that scowling countenance. But I saw nothing more menacing than reflected candlelight.

Sidra’s mother wore a white sheath with coils of silver chain around her throat and the redhead, a vintage brocade cocktail dress in emerald-green. They watched me warily, the way one might observe something suspect in a petri dish, and I saw Sidra’s mother touch Luna’s arm and murmur something in her ear. I grew even more anxious and wished that I’d followed my initial inclination to circle the drive and head back home. Or that I’d at least taken a little more care with my makeup. Done something different with my hair. Then I told myself I was being ridiculous. When had the way I looked become such a pressing concern? Like my father, I worked with my hands. I had no need of frills in my wardrobe. As lovely as those dresses were, they wouldn’t suit me at all. But I knew the tension that knotted my stomach really had little to do with my appearance. The worry over my plain attire was merely a manifestation of some darker uneasiness that plagued me.

The three women had grouped themselves around a tall, broad-shouldered man who had his back to the door. He was the only one who hadn’t turned when I arrived. There was a fourth woman, but she blended so seamlessly into the background I nearly missed her. She was slight and nondescript, and her unfortunate choice of brown velvet all but swallowed her. She looked uncomfortable and so out of her element that I felt an instant kinship.

All of this was but a brief assessment before Thane materialized at my side, handsomely bedecked in a charcoal suit with a narrow green tie that complemented his eye color.