He pushed them open, revealing a spacious office with a crackling fireplace.

The warmth hit my face, smelling of cedarwood and expensive paper.

“Sit down, please,” he said, gesturing to a pair of deep leather armchairs near the hearth.

Ruby hesitated, then sank into the soft leather, her small boots dangling inches above the thick rug.

I remained standing near the door, my coat still buttoned to my chin.

“We can’t stay long,” I said, my hands clenched in my pockets.

“Just long enough to warm up,” Nathaniel said.

He walked over to a small side table and poured two cups of warm cider from a silver thermos.

He handed one to Ruby, who took it with both hands, her fingers wrapping around the ceramic mug.

“Thank you,” she whispered, taking a small sip.

Nathaniel offered the second cup to me, but I shook my head.

“I don’t want anything,” I said, my voice tight.

He set the cup down on the desk and looked at me, his gray eyes steady and searching.

“You look just like her,” he said. “In the eyes, at least.”