In the dining hall, Levi funneled cake into his mouth to save himself from having to speak to his brother or his wife. The cake on Malachi’s plate, much like the meal he had been presented with before, remained mostly untouched.

He was utterly repulsed by the taste of sugar, and Miriam had made sure that the cake was made extra sweet.

Drawn in closer by Arthur’s apparent turmoil, Miriam let her eyes wander from the marks on his neck up to his face.

“They will be leaving shortly,” she decided. Her other hand raised to trail her cold fingers down the doctor’s cheek, and then fell back to her side. She grabbed Arthur’s hand and brought it to her waist.

“The other one is not a problem. He will not speak of it,” she said. “Shall I have a servant show you to my room?”