Behind Velvet Doors: 6. Crossing the Line

The library was deserted. Outside, late autumn rain streaked the tall glass panes, the sound a soft, relentless percussion against the silence.

Isobel hadn’t meant to end up here again. Not after the last time—when she’d sat with her head bent over her books and felt the unmistakable weight of Evangeline’s gaze from the mezzanine above. But her chest had been tight all day, her mind in a fog. And somehow, her feet had carried her here, to the one place where she felt both safest and most in danger.

She told herself she’d study. She told herself she’d ignore the pull. She was determined to ignore the pull. She was going to focus squarely on her studies, henceforth. 

But when the double doors opened with a soft click, she knew exactly who it was without looking up.

“Isobel.” The voice was low, velvet-wrapped steel.

Isobel swallowed and kept her eyes on her notes. “Headmistress.”

The sound of heels across the polished floor was deliberate—each s