(Ruby's POV)
The morning came too fast.
I woke to the sound of rain again, tapping against the window like impatient fingers. The sky was gray, heavy, pressing down on the manor. The fire had gone out hours ago, and the room was cold.
Nicholas was still asleep. His face was turned toward me, his dark hair falling across his forehead. He looked younger in sleep. Less burdened.
I didn't want to wake him. But my body was restless, and my mind was already spinning with everything that needed to be done.
I slipped out of bed and pulled on my robe. The floor was cold under my bare feet. I walked to the window and looked out at the garden.
The rain was washing away the last of the ash. The flowerbeds were muddy, trampled, but I could see new growth pushing through. Small green shoots, barely visible, reaching for the light.
Mrs. MacLeod was already in the kitchen when I came downstairs. She was kneading dough at the counter, her sleeves rolled up, her hands dusted with flour.
