My Dark Lord

Chapter Fifteen: A Reprief

Girls' Dormitory – Late Evening

The fire had burned low in the hearth, casting flickers of orange light across the dormitory's green velvet curtains. Most of the other girls had drifted off to bed, lulled by the rhythmic lapping of the Black Lake just beyond the enchanted glass.

Only Eileen and I remained.

She sat cross-legged on my bed, her thick dark hair pinned up for sleep but already falling in soft strands around her face. Her eyes were sharper than usual. Wary. Watching me with the kind of quiet knowing only someone who'd known me since childhood could muster.

I looked away, pretending to adjust the clasp on my trunk.

"So," she said at last, her voice soft but firm, "how long are you going to keep pretending nothing's changed?"

I froze for a second too long. Then forced a breath. "What do you mean?"

"You're lying to me, Layla."

There was no accusation in her tone. Just hurt.

And that was worse.

She continued before I could speak. "You sneak off at night. You vanish for hours between classes. You're distracted in lessons, you barely eat, and you've been reading books that weren't even listed in the restricted section."

Her fingers twisted in the hem of her sleeve. "And you haven't told me anything."

I turned, slowly.

"I've just had a lot on my mind."

Eileen shook her head. "That's not an answer."

Her voice trembled now, barely above a whisper. "Is it... is it him? Is it Riddle?"

The name hung in the air like frost.

I blinked.

Then laughed-- a little too sharply. "Merlin, no. Of course not. I'd never keep secrets for him."

She frowned. "Then why are you acting like you're carrying something you can't tell me?"

I hesitated.

Because I was.

Because I had to.

If she knew what I was doing-- what I was becoming-- she might try to stop me.

Or worse, she might try to join me.

I couldn't allow either.

I reached under my pillow and drew out the small box I had hidden there for weeks.

It was wrapped in black silk ribbon and tied with a silver seal marked with our family crest. I pressed it into her hands before she could argue.

"Here."

She looked at me in confusion. "What is it?"

"Just open it."

Eileen unwrapped the ribbon slowly, her brows knitting. When she lifted the lid, her breath caught.

Inside was a delicate silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon, inlaid with a single pearl from the Black Lake's edge. I'd enchanted it myself to softly glow when its wearer was in distress—a protective charm disguised as something beautiful.

Eileen looked up at me, wide-eyed. "Layla..."

"You've always watched over me," I said, brushing my hand over hers. "Consider it... something to watch over you too."

Her voice cracked. "You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to."

And it was true. Eileen had been my anchor for years—my secret-keeper, my softer edge. I had taken from her silence, and steadiness, and calm. She deserved something in return.