LYSANDER
The car rolled past the gates, and I pressed my forehead against the cool window glass. The gates of the Lily of the Valley estate were wrought iron and ancient, twisted into patterns that told old tales. Beyond them, the grounds stretched out into old money perfection. Every hedge was trimmed. Every stone was placed with intention. It was beautiful in the way a mausoleum was beautiful.
I was still thinking about her hair.
It was ridiculous, the way my mind kept circling back to it. The dark strands that had fallen loose during the trial. The way she had pushed them back with an impatient hand when Hazel started screaming. There was something about the gesture that felt more real than anything else in that chamber. More real than the blood on the stones or the spiritual elder's prayers or the way Hazel's body had convulsed like something was being ripped out of her from the inside.
