Chapter 10. The Lavender Heir

Ghostly whispers

Chapter Ten

Patrick didn’t stay the night.

After their conversation, after the photograph and the revelations about her father, Sasha had almost asked him to. She had wanted to. But something about the way he stood in the doorway, hands shoved in his coat pockets and the wind tugging at his collar, made her stop herself.

“You’ll be safe here tonight,” Patrick had said quietly. “Heather will keep an eye on you. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Sasha had simply nodded, clutching the photograph of Aislinn to her chest. He’d given her a small, fleeting smile before disappearing into the darkness. She had watched him go until the headlights of his car vanished down the long road, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

The cottage was too still. The wind rattled the windows, and each creak of the old beams overhead set her nerves on edge. She had turned in early, curling beneath the crocheted blanket on the narrow bed, but sleep was restless. Her mind kept circling the same thoughts: her father, Cian, the sister she’d never known, and the ghostly figure in the lavender fields.

At some point, the dreams took hold.

She was standing barefoot in the fields again, the lavender brushing her legs like whispers. The night air was thick with mist, the castle’s jagged silhouette looming in the distance like a waiting shadow.

And then she saw her.

Aislinn’s copper hair caught the faintest glimmer of moonlight as she stepped from the mist. Her pale face was unreadable, her eyes fixed on Sasha with a sorrowful intensity that made Sasha’s breath catch.

“Aislinn…” Sasha whispered.

The girl raised an arm, pointing toward the castle. The motion was slow, deliberate, and filled with such quiet finality that it made Sasha shiver.

“No,” Sasha said, shaking her head. “I can’t—”

But Aislinn was already moving.

She rushed forward suddenly, her form no longer gliding but flying at Sasha like the wind. Sasha’s heart lurched as she felt the icy weightless force pass straight through her chest, leaving her gasping. She spun, but Aislinn was gone. The fields were empty.

And then Sasha jolted awake.

She was sitting up in bed, breath ragged, sweat cold on her neck. The pale light of dawn crept through the lace curtains, and she was back in her room at the cottage… but the scent of lavender was thick and real, clinging to her skin.

She looked down and froze.

Sprigs of lavender were caught in the fabric of her nightdress.

Sasha’s hands trembled as she plucked them free. Had it all been a dream? She remembered the cold, the rushing sensation, the way Aislinn’s eyes had locked on hers…

No. This had been different. Too vivid. Too real.

And now she knew what she had to do.

She pushed back the covers and swung her legs out of bed, clutching the lavender tightly in one hand. Heather was downstairs, and Heather knew things. She had always sensed it—the evasive looks, the warnings, the way Heather never seemed surprised by anything.

Today, Sasha would demand answers.

It was time to find out what Heather knew about her father. About Aislinn. And about the castle that waited like a silent threat beyond the lavender fields.