I was mopping the kitchen floor, soaked from the waist down, when Caleb slipped in beside me. Caleb had been on this plantation longer than I’d been alive. He moved with the quiet confidence of someone who had survived every season and did not plan to stop now.
“Elijah,” he said, voice tense, “you need to be careful.”
I kept mopping like I hadn’t heard. Ears could get you killed too.
Caleb leaned closer. “They’re watching more than you think. The mistress and Miss Sarah… they’re not like the others.”
My hands tightened on the mop handle. “What do you mean?”
“Power moves,” he whispered. “Secrets you think are hidden won’t stay that way. Keep your head or you’ll be burned.”
Lightning flashed, turning the kitchen window white for a heartbeat. In that brief glare, Caleb’s face looked older than it had a moment before.
I nodded once, silent. His warning slid into my bones and settled there.
Later, I stood near the back veranda, waiting for the rain to calm enough for me to run to my cabin. The wind shoved the trees around like they were children. I was shivering, soaked and angry at my own body for being cold when it should have been grateful to still be alive.
Mrs. Cross appeared in the doorway, hair damp, eyes glinting as though the storm made her braver.
