A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 80: All in

Chapter 80: All in

The carriage moved like breath through the mist.

Charms softened the wheels so that not even gravel cracked beneath them. Outside, the landscape was all dusk and blur: a smear of skeletal trees, frost-glass puddles, and low-lying fog that clung to the hills like bruising. The light from the Selwyn estate had vanished long ago, leaving only the carriage's lamps flickering faintly against the glass.

Inside, silence reigned.

Anastasia sat across from Tom, her posture a sculpture of poise. Gloved hands folded neatly in her lap. Her gown—still immaculate—cast delicate shadows against the velvet seat. The only movement came from the faint sway of the carriage and the occasional tilt of her chin when the road curved.

Tom had not spoken since they departed.

He sat with one leg crossed over the other, head turned toward the window, though his gaze did not follow the landscape. He didn't seem restless. Or tired. Or even particularly thoughtful. He was just still. Too still. The kind of stillness that wasn't passive but deeply, dangerously alert.

The hum of the travel spells beneath them was soft. Like being ferried on glass.Finally, Tom spoke—light, as if he were commenting on the weather.

"Lucius drank too much again."

Anastasia let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "He always does when he's trying not to be bored."

A faint twitch of amusement ghosted across Tom's mouth. "He failed."

She looked out the window, chin tilted toward the glass. "At being discreet or staying sober?"

"Both," Tom said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "Though I imagine he'd claim it was part of the performance."

Anastasia's gaze didn't shift. "Everything is."

Another beat passed.

Tom turned to face her fully. "You were remarkable."

She blinked once. Then met his eyes. "You expected anything less?"

His smile sharpened—just slightly. "Never."

They watched each other for a long moment. Then Anastasia shifted her weight, slow and deliberate, and said—

"You could've warned me."

Tom tilted his head. "Warned you?"

"The speech," she said. Her tone was carefully neutral. "It wouldn't have killed you to let me know you were going to call on me in front of half the continent."

He didn't reply immediately. His eyes drifted to the window again.

"I thought you might enjoy the challenge."

"That wasn't a challenge," Anastasia said. "That was a test."

He looked back at her. "You passed."

"I didn't consent."

Tom hummed softly, almost amused. "Consent is a muggle word."

Anastasia didn't smile. "That's a disturbing philosophy for a man planning a wedding."

"Isn't it?" he replied, unbothered.

Another stretch of silence. The kind laced with teeth.

The carriage turned slightly, the light shifting across Tom's face. He was watching her now—not passively. Not politely. With that same kind of unblinking interest that had first unsettled her years ago.