Page 68 of Her Shadow so Dark and Lovely
“Yes,” comes another voice and I think I must be going mad. “He’ll be ready and waiting for you at the fourth hour.”
Mercias is in the doorway, watching us carefully.
Lune moves away. “Thank you, Mercias,” she says.
My eyes are clearing and I shift my head so that I can see them both properly, my cheek pressed to Sila’s chest.
Lune is giving me a perplexed look. “That’s not much time. We need to find you something sensible to wear,” Lune says.
“Can I not get something from my room?” I mumble.
“I do not think you are in any condition for me to shadow walk you, little mouse, and I will not leave you alone again. Not for a minute,” says Sila.
“I’ll find something,” Lune says, slipping from the room.
That’s good, I like that. It means I don’t have to go anywhere. The longer I can stay pressed to Sila, and not have to stand, the better.
Mercias steps inside once she’s gone. “What happened in the Keep?” he says, keeping his voice low.
“The Dawn King had her,” Sila says. “Because she is a Dawnchild.”
“Fuck,” Mercias says. “Will the Library have any cause for concern then?”
Sila shifts as she shakes her head. “I do not think so. I acted alone, and I think he will be keen to tidy things up now. He knows we will not stay.”
Mercias breathes a sigh that is equal parts relief and anxiety. “I’ve never known the Library without you,” he says. “In some respects, I think you are the Library. You aretheLibrarian.”
“Do not go getting soft on me now Mercias,” Sila says in her haughtiest Librarian voice. She’s pleased with his sentiment, though. I can hear it.
Mercias must too, because he huffs a short laugh. “I’ll go help the healer,” he says. “And you can get that ridiculous thing off the scribe.” He looks at me, then. “Good luck to you both.” That is all he says before he turns lazily on his heel and leaves.
I tip my head to look at the gown. “Is it so ridiculous?” I ask, tugging again at a ribbon.
Sila gets her arms under me and lifts me as she stands. I cling to her shoulders, her face mere inches from mine.
“It is a lovely glimpse of another Lorel, who deserved so much better,” Sila says. “But it is not the Lorel that belongs to me, and that is the one I like best.”
She sets me on my feet carefully. I brace myself on her arms and my legs hold— for now. When she is happy that I won’t topple over on her, Sila starts on the pins, collecting them as she peels away the layers of the gown.
“The Lorel that tastes of paper and ink and honey,” she says, untying the first layers of petticoats. “The Lorel that gives under my hands, and my thighs, and my tongue.”
“Sila—”
She turns me away from her and I expect her to untie the stays next. Instead, I feel her finger slip between my shift and the cord as she runs a sharp talon through it, cutting the stays away from my body.
“The Lorel that fights with her nails, that can bargain with the Heart, that can quell even the Dawn King’s magic.” Sila presses her lips to my shoulder, bared as she pushes aside the shift. “My Lorel,” she sighs.
I twist, reaching for her. Drag her face down to me so that I can kiss her. It leaves me dizzy, but I need to. I have to. “Yours. Always yours,” I whisper.
She tastes of blood, and earth, and salt when I kiss her, her cool mouth pressed to mine. Over mine. It is a claiming kind of kiss and I cling to her.
She’s so blissfully cool against me. My skin is still feverish, and I have been standing too long. Sila grips me tightly about my waist. I rest my forehead against hers, my fingers wound into the cloth of her blouse.
“I’m afraid of leaving,” I whisper, like it’s some kind of secret. “Orielle?—”
“Made her own choice, little mouse. As I have made mine,” Sila says.
“Why are you all so willing to throw yourselves away for me?” There is the barest hint of hysteria in it, as my grip tightens painfully. I can’t hold it for long with the way exhaustion is trying to take over me. Exhaustion, frustration, fear— all of it is too much for me to bear at this moment.
