Chapter 12

• Jenna's POV
• I did not go to my room. Not right away.
• I walked instead, past the corridor with the oil paintings, past the quiet of the library, where the air was always colder than the rest of the house. I scarcely noticed the smooth floor beneath my feet or the whisper of my dress brushing against the walls. My fingers were still curled around the velvet box, the form engraved on my palm like a confession I wasn't ready to make.