Page 22 of Antiletum
Mallin gives me a pitying stare. “I’m just going to go out on a limb here—knowing you so well. I would wager pounds ofantiletumthat you snuck in while Delaney slept. She woke up, and you were just unexpectedly there. With breakfast. Then bombarded her with information while she was still getting her bearings for the day.”
Immediately, I defend myself. “Well, it wasn’t getting me anywhere before, giving her endless space. I had to do something.” It seemed like a foolproof idea at the time. “You essentially said the same thing minutes ago.”
“You truly are both pathetic and painfully clueless, Valledyn.”
“Yes. We’ve established that. Now help.”
He shakes his head. “You can’t just go from one extreme to the other. Letting her run from you without any push back and then jumping straight into allowing yourself into her rooms,while she sleeps,to demand she accept your company while simultaneously giving breadcrumbs about this generations-in-the-making coup. That’s a very aggressive approach.”
I gape at him, very clearly seeing the point he’s making.
A good,goodfriend.
“You may be on to something.”
He does have a happy marriage. He was able to inform Selise ofSuredeisand all that the organized resistance to Parliament entails in a way that didn’t have her running from him. And he had a couple relationships before they were paired.
Personally, I’ve never had more than one-time partners. Just enough to release my tensions while also learning how to be a proper lover. Aptly discovering how a woman might like to be touched. What might make her shake and moan and scream my name as she comes. And never anyone at The Citadel. Imagine bringing my wife face-to-face with the women who taught me how to fuck.
What a nightmare.
“And what do you suggest?” I ask Mallin, hastily rifling through papers to find a clean piece. I collect my pen, poising it in my hand. Ready to take notes, like a knowledge hungry scholar being enlightened to something new.
Mallin stares at me, disbelieving. I’m overly eager. I wouldn’t dream of being this blatantly desperate in front of anyone else. Besides, perhaps, Alaric. And Delaney. And I suppose Blair as well.
After the warning from dear Tabitha before her untimely demise, I had a fool’s hope that giving Delaney a glimpse at the truth would start to soften her suspicions. If I gave her a legitimate reason why her dead sister may be warning her against me—if I offered her my very real hatred for Parliament and a glimmer of why it even exists. A hint at what I intend for us to do.
Bringallthe Heartstones back.
It was a split decision during dawn hours when I returned to the manor to surprise my wife when she woke. Ever resourceful, a trait I deeplypride myself on, our breakfast together was to serve a few purposes. One: soothe my ever increasing ache to be in Delaney’s lovely presence. Despite my promises to myself, I may have given in—twice—to my need to have my mouth near her skin. Two: have a legitimate excuse that isn’t “I killed Tabitha” for how I got answers on my wife’s reservations towards me. Certainly no need to mention the light torture before said murder. Three: forcefully open up the door for me to begin trickling the truth to Delaney at a palatable pace. Turns out it wasn’t all that palatable to her.
It had the opposite effect and my wife is nowmorewary of me.
Mallin sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck, and takes a seat. “Fine. I have some ideas that I suppose I’ll share. Only because this is becomingabsolute torture watching you flounder.” He grins. “Though it is refreshing seeing you so profoundlybadat something.”
Then we spend the rest of the day huddled in my office, coming up with ideas. Time that is much better spent than aiding in preparations to leave.
6
So much for breakfast
Delaney
The summer morning is mockingly cheery in Omnitas against the rage slithering through my body. As hot as the deepest layers ofinfernum.
Slips of yellow sun fall through the arched windows topped with cinquefoils and paint the stone floor as I march across the hall, a bundle of fabric clutched in my fist. The air is perfumed with vibrant flowers, popping around The Citadel grounds and wafting in on a breeze. Absolutely breathtaking against all the dark grey statues and fountains; the stained glass windows; the vaulted ceilings.
The stench of Omnitas doesn’t quite touch The Citadel on its hill. Almost like a small city itself with the multiple round buildings, topped in crystal domes and connected by endless arms of flying buttresses.
Not announcing my entrance into my husband’s room, I throw Val’s door wide and stride across the space, him watching with amusement. Not at all surprised by how I’m storming in.
Visions of him meticulously choosing my clothing race through my mind. Above my irritation, praise must be given where it is due. The dress is stunning. Skirts layered thick with nearly sheer bolts offabric. The pieces lying atop each other create an impossible depth of black—only achieved together. Keeping with that wonderful, brand new subtlety of my husband’s. Wings are depicted so intricately across the back, I might just be able to bring them to life and fly away.
If only the stitching was made from something dead.
It’s not the dress per se that has me so offended. Or even the underwear. Not even my previous trepidation about wearing the colors meant for my dead sister. But the fact thatallother clothing from my chambers have been removed, leaving me no option but to drape myself in the black and silver provided by my thoughtful husband, like he personally snatched the colors from a starry midnight sky. Just for me.
A blob of said black and silver flies through the air, smacking my husband in the face.
