Noah soothed his son, lowered his head, and asked her, “What are we to each other, Gwynn?”

“A jailer and a prisoner.” Her voice was hollow. “I’m not your wife, Noah. I’m your prisoner!”

Another gust of night breeze blew past him, sending chills down his spine.

…

Noah ended up sleeping in the study that night.

He had a dream in which Gwynn left, taking Lorian with her. She also took away every scarf and cashmere sweater she had made with her, leaving the bedroom empty except for a veil, which was flowing in the air quietly.

“Gwynn!”

He jolted awake and beads of cold sweat rolled down his back. Opening his eyes, he saw that the sky was still dark outside. Then, he checked the time and realized it was only three in the morning.

He was too overwrought to go back to sleep. So, he got out of bed, opened the door, and walked straight toward the master bedroom across the hallway. The door to the bedroom was ajar, a glow of light seeping through.

To his surprise, Gwynn was sitting