Page 98 of Bound By Crimson
He didn’t reach for the handle.
Instead, he knocked.
She blinked. “Why are you knocking? This is your house, isn’t it?”
Kai smiled thinly.
“It’s my mother’s house. Still her kingdom.”
Before she could question him again, the heavy wooden door creaked open.
A small cluster of people stood waiting just beyond the threshold.
At the center was a woman—tall, rigid, and eerily beautiful.
Charles walked past them and took his place in line.
He wore a black suit that strained just slightly at the buttons, his expression set in permanent seriousness.
Charles, Lyric thought instinctively—the loyal butler, standing at attention like a soldier ready for orders.
Beside him stood two maids:
One, a severe older woman with graying hair pulled tight into a bun, her posture stiff as a board.
Her face was all sharp lines and sharper judgment—not a trace of softness to be found.
The other was younger—maybe just a few years older than Lyric herself.
She was petite, with dark hair braided neatly over one shoulder, and her hands twisted nervously at the hem of her apron.
Her wide, anxious eyes flicked between Kai, Lyric, and Mrs. Thornwick with barely concealed fear.
And standing above them all—commanding the room without saying a word—was Mrs. Thornwick.
She wore a high-collared black blouse buttoned to the throat, and a long sweeping skirt that brushed against polished black lace-up shoes.
Her hair, streaked faintly with silver, was pinned into a severe chignon so tight it seemed painful.
No makeup softened the stark planes of her face—high cheekbones, hollowed cheeks, full unsmiling lips.
She held her hands clasped neatly in front of her waist, her chin raised high, her dark eyes sharp as flint.
If an angel had fallen from grace and chosen discipline over compassion, she might have looked like this.
“Mother,” Kai said warmly, stepping forward to kiss her cheek.
Mrs. Thornwick’s face softened, but only for him.
“Malachai,” she said, her voice thick with pride. “You’re home.”
The name landed between them like a stone dropped into deep water.
Lyric blinked, feeling it strike something inside her.
Malachai Thornwick.
It didn’t sound like the Kai she knew—the man who laughed easily and kissed her forehead.
