CAROLINE'S POV
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My fingers trace the blank canvas as it sits on the easel. So perfectly white, as if it's new and hasn't been in storage. A blank page waiting to be decorated in paint to become art. I release a shuddered breath as I try to think of something else, anything instead of Lucian. He did a selfless thing. For me. The whiplash will come, I'm sure of it. My finger brushes down the soft stubble of the edge of the canvas before I drop my hand. There's no time left to wonder.
'Clara.' I tug on the bond that's as dark as the night sky on a cloudy day, and it's like snowflakes floating around in my head as she comes forth to meet me. 'Yes, little girl?' I refrain from rolling my eyes at the nickname. She creeps further out of the shadows in my mind, and her essence is like a warm
