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Kingsley pulled a penlight from his pocket and flashed it at his feet He didn’t need to see, only to hear, but if there were rats in the hall, he wanted to be prepared One stray sound could mean the death of him and Nora both

No rats in the hall, only dust He covered his nose andair

Every few feet was a narrow door, back entrances into the larger bedrooms Søren’s father had been soland--a baron with no e to ance of a king He couldn’t live in a normal mansion No, he had to have a land, cosley paused when he saw the floor change color fro but a sheet on the floor Where had it come from? Then he saw the rust-colored stains on the white sheet--old blood Kingsley stood up again and stepped over the sheet, leaving it on the floor, the forgotten shadow of a secret game two broken children had once played

As he sley started to hear voices His heart quickened at the sound even as his feet slowed When the voices reached the highest volume, he stopped, pressed his ear to the wall and listened

"I knew iiven him those bruises They looked like hing And then not long after Kingsley fked et wine, they’d said But I didn’t taste wine on Søren’s lips I tasted Kingsley I tasted blood"

Kingsley closed his eyes and listened harder He knew this story that Nora told--the first night all three of the it? And to whosley hadn’t heard in thirty years but he still kneell as his own Light, feone, however She’d been living elsewhere for decades Where? Australia possibly, the perfect place for a fugitive to flee and start a new life Perhaps South America With her olive skin she could blend in easily with the Latin population She could have gone anywhere but France, where Kingsley had fled to, or Italy, where Søren had gone to school after Saint Ignatius

"Kingsley’s, I assume I didn’t see a bite sley’s back"

"My brother’s blood onAndto keep interrupting or are you going to letme tell them So do you want to hear it or not?"

"Carry onby allNora to tell stories of their life At least that was a game Nora could play and win She could stay alive a thousand nights from the power of her stories alone

He closed his eyes and listened to Nora’s story, to Marie-Laure’s questions that interrupted her at every turn Strange to hear about that night in Nora’s voice He and she never spoke of it After all, she belonged to Søren and it was Søren who controlled the flow of information, what secrets his Little One was allowed to know and not know Kingsley had known a secret about Eleanor that he kept fro as fifteen, sixteen, he’d seen the signs of it He tried to tell Søren but Søren would have nothing of it He’d forbidden Kingsley froure it out for herself, Søren had said, putting his foot down

There is no "if," mon ami It does take one to know one, and I knohat she is Your pet is no sub to yourself if you think she is