Page 44 of In Death's Hands
I realise we’ve been looking at each other for too long, and I wonder if his thoughts are as stuck on me as mine are stuck on him all too frequently.
It’s unnerving. Aside from a crush back when I was still in my group home, I’ve never been this attracted to a man before. I try to keep them at arm’s length. According to Joana, it’s called the “hit it and quit it” style, which I don’t like one bit, but it’s still better than growing attached and having them disappear from my life all too quickly.
With Nathan, though, I seem to have grown attached without my being aware of it. Or rather, without my express agreement. It’s happened in the background of all the crazy stuff that’s occurred since we met. Although, to be fair, I’ve been crushing on him since he started dropping by for coffee he never drank. But that had been purely physical. A simple call from his body to mine, drawing me near every time he entered the shop. Now, his laugh makes me smile, and I don’t know where that leaves me. Knee-deep in shit seems like a good answer.
I need to shift my focus before he can read where my thoughts went. I’ve been told I have a much too expressive face to hide anything I’m thinking. “So, what’s next?”
“Pardon?” I seem to have jolted him from his own thoughts.
“This theory about the Novensiles is just that, a theory. How do we confirm it? What do we do to make it all stop?”
“We do what I said we’d do, we capture one.”
My breath catches in my throat, except this time it’s not in fear but excitement. If getting one of them means getting answers, I’m all in. “And we start by going to your leader?”
“Cel, yes.” Nathan’s jaw tightens, and I wonder what fresh hell this meeting is going to bring. “It’s necessary. But Liv, you’ll have to be careful and let me speak. You’ll have to trust me.” He looks at me deeply. “Whatever I say, whatever I do, please see me beneath it.”
I can only stare at him, his words catching me off guard. He seems so earnest that I don’t doubt he’ll do what he can to help, but I wonder how far he’ll have to go to do so.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this Fading business. It leaves me disoriented and a little bit nauseated. I take a big breath to centre myself and rein in the anxiety about to eat my stomach. Sadly, it doesn’t do much. Especially when I take in my surroundings.
After our tense discussion, Nathan sent me to bed, literally. He refused to answer any more questions and told me I need to be rested to face what’s coming next.
Despite everything running through my mind, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow and only woke when a mighty knock shook the door.
The sun hadn’t even started to rise, but Nathan’s head popped through the door to tell me he’d received the sign he’d been waiting for from Thalnus and, apparently, one doesn’t leave this Cel person waiting.
So here we now are, going from sleepy London to… what appears to be the entrance of some Disney princess magic castle. There is an immense wooden door at our backs with intricate carvings I can’t quite make out in the dim lighting, and a grand staircase begging for a woman in a big dress to elegantly walk down its steps.
The rest of the room has wood floors and wood panelling on the walls. A little too much wood for me, but the overall effect still manages to be elegant with the dark green velvet cloths draped here and there, and the many ridiculously big paintings that look like copies of what is displayed in the Louvre.I know because Joana and I once randomly decided to take the train to Paris, where we spent the day hopping from museum to museum, with emergency pastry shop stops in between to sustain us. We’d taken the night train back, feet completely dead, but happy. Even the near fall down an impossibly opened hatch in the Parisian metro hadn’t managed to tame my good spirits.
I feel a pang as I think of Joana. I long to see her but my life has never felt so far away as I behold the room around me. Nathan, at my side, is standing impossibly stiffly and quietly. His body buzzes with barely restrained energy.
I’m half expecting Cogsworth and Lumière to greet us but, instead, an elegant young woman comes down the stairs. She’s wearing a pretty pink dress that reminds me of period dramas on the BBC. Without a word, she bows to us, low, and stays down for so long I wonder if she’s waiting for us to bow back. Before I can explain how much I willnotbe doing that, she gets back up and gestures to a smaller door on our left that I hadn’t noticed.
I look at Nathan for guidance, but his gaze is fixed ahead. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if he was even aware of my presence. As I get closer to the door, I notice a strange shimmering around its golden handle. It looks similar to the red string I found in the cave and my breathing intensifies. I’m about to grab Nathan’s arm in warning, but the woman who greeted us puts her delicate hand on it, and faster than it takes me to blink, the string is gone. By the time the woman opens the door and steps aside to let us pass, all that is left is a beautiful handle on an open door.
I tense as I finally cross the threshold, not sure what to expect. What awaits us is beyond anything I could have imagined, and I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that I’m wearing leggings with a hole in the inner thigh, a big pinksweater and my running trainers. Nathan refused to leave me time to rummage through my boxes to find something appropriate to wear. He also refused to tell me what to expect, claiming some nonsense about it being more impactful if I don’t know.
I have no idea who I’m meeting, but the grandeur of the place makes my palms sweat. I throw a furious glare at Nathan, who dared tell me that I looked perfect before he vanished us here. Perfect my ass—I look like I’ve come straight from the gym, unshowered, to a room fit to receive royalty.
I realise I’ve stopped walking when I feel Nathan’s hand on my back, guiding me forward again. The warmth of it is enough to steady me as I take in this new room all at once, forgetting about my clothes in a heartbeat. The first thing I see isn’t the white walls with delicate golden panelling that looks alive thanks to the dancing flames of hundreds of candles lit on vintage candelabras. It isn’t the very cold marble floor, nor the high wooden ceiling or the dozens of tall windows that impossibly show some kind of forest illuminated by the moon at its peak.
No. The first thing that has my eyes widen is the fact that this room is circular. There are no dark corners, not a shadow to be found. Nowhere to retreat to. Everything glimmers and shines. Especially the woman at the centre of it all.
Her throne is the first thing my eyes truly land on. Seeing as it’s at the very centre, one doesn’t have a choice about what to look at first.
“Close your mouth,” whispers Nathan, without an ounce of amusement or warmth to be found in his voice.
It’s a struggle to obey. Not because I abhor being ordered around—although I do—but because everything in this room is a shock to my system.
Above the throne, on the domed wooden ceiling, are tiny mirrors reflecting the scene down below. At its centre is the woman we all came to see, I’m sure of it. Around her are many people mingling, making my skin crawl with awareness. There’s a strange sense of recognition and yet everything feels entirely foreign. And wrong. So very, very wrong.
With the mirrors, I realise, slightly dazed, she can see everything going on in the room. She may be placed at the centre, facing the door we just came through, but she is not blind to what is happening behind her. One look up and she is master of it all. She can see everything. And if the loud whispers I hear are any indication, I’d guess that she can also hear everything thanks to the acoustics of the dome sheltering us. The effect works too well. It is awe-inspiring and humbling. She is clearly above us all.
My gaze is still stuck on the mirrors and the shiny silver crown atop a golden head when, suddenly, she looks up. Dark grey eyes catch me, as frightening and cold as a storm. As if from far away, I sense my body growing cold and trembling, but I cannot look away. I cannot break free from her stare. Wrath overtakes me like a heavy wind ready to destroy the sturdiest of trees. The trembling in my body doesn’t feel like fear any longer, it feels like a reckoning waiting to be set free. It’s the hand on my back that brings me back. A gentle tightening of fingers I’ve memorised and my eyes close as I crash back into my body.
I don’t know what happened. I don’t know where those emotions came from. Could it be jealousy? That doesn’t feel right, but neither does the slightly proprietary look in her eyes as I see her take Nathan in. I refuse to look up again, the sight of her atop that throne already imprinted on my brain.
