Page 25 of Antiletum
My formerly galloping heart stops beating.
“You don’t even know me.”
A small, secretive smile plays at Val’s lips. He bends his head closer to mine, our mouths nearly brushing. “I know enough,” he whispers.
The quiet insight of that simple statement makes me shiver, nearly choke. I rationalize the sensation by imagining that Val experienced a similar loneliness to mine. From what I’ve gleaned, he only startedbeing open about his own necromancy when his father becameAlterto the former Lord.
It’s difficult for me to deny my own draw to him, knowing he shares in something that I was conditioned to think wrong. That he’s owned his otherness proudly for years. That he wants me to do the same. With him.
Nevermind the similar grief we’re both silently harboring for our recently lost loved ones. Mine layered on top of another that I’ve been holding for too long. Entirely too fresh being back in Omnitas. Just looking at Val brings that old ache to the surface and I’m having a harder time now pushing it back down.
“Now.” Val’s expression has darkened again, staring at me with intensity, back to the core argument.
No wonder there was no push back from Parliament about Val assuming the role of Lord despite being so far down in the line of succession it would have easily been challenged. He really has such a way of putting so muchoomfinto a single word.
“Are you going to seat yourself? Or should I do it for you?” Val’s palms land on my shoulders, squeezing with promise. “Last warning, Delaney. I have to leave in the morning after our celebration, and Iwillenjoy your company before I have to go.”
His announcement breaks me from my internal war. “You’re leaving?” My question is embarrassingly high pitched.
I amnota fan of this intense fear that suddenly blankets me.
Val obviously is.
He smirks, having clearly heard the tone I wish I hadn’t given away. Again. “Not for long.” He strokes a gentle knuckle across my cheekbone, mapping me out. “And I vow to return to you in one piece. Promptly.” His promise is oddly soothing, steering me more towards the direction of putting to rest Rainah’s warning. Behind my outrageover the demanded breakfasts and the clothes, something about it all is oddly endearing. Bold. Almost exciting.
Val steers me to my chair, us finding some strange middle ground between my agency and him wanting to command me.
“You already know how important tonight is,” Val tells me, getting settled. “What we are forNoctua, it matters. Though our position isn’t much more than a name, a pair of messengers between Parliament and the people and holding no real power, it matters. I want us to be a Lord and Lady for the people. For them to have something to look towards other than struggle.Deosknow they’ve endured enough.”
The passion behind his sentiment is staggering. As he says it, I think I very much want that too. Through all the years since my single trip into the city, I’ve never forgotten how dire it was, even back then. From what I’ve heard, famine, sickness, and crime are even worse now. Survival is the best most hope for these days.
“Yes.” I swallow hard. Such an empty word. But I’m not really sure what else to say. How long will it take for me to acclimate to my new life? My new surroundings? I’m still not even fully sure what exactly Val is involved in, what I may be now too.
Val reads me thoroughly. “Are you frightened?”
“I’m nervous,” I tell him honestly. “So yes, to a degree, I suppose I am frightened.”
“Don’t be. I will be by your side, the whole time. You don’t have to speak to a single person you don’t want to. I will ensure you are not subjected to any questions about your family that make you uncomfortable.”
A sense of security wraps around me. Far too comfortable. Too inviting and easy to sink into.
Val smiles mischievously as he watches me relax under the promise of his protection, a sense of victory settling over him. “And after we’ve made our appearance, I have different plans for our evening. Just the two of us.”
7
Wouldn’t want to make any martyrs now, would we?
Val
Acalm breath works through my lungs, deep and slow. Not shuddering at all. Not even the slightest. There’s no profound anger burning up my throat. None.
Or at least, that’s what I tell myself, attempting to fool my emotions back into some semblance of composure. Stoic. Calculated.
The urge to punch a wall is shamefully strong. Get lost in physical pain. So effective.
Instead, I remove my top hat—doing nothing but increasing the sweat building on my hairline—and tuck it under my arm.
The sound of mine and Alaric’s purposeful strides echo in the dark, dank corridors beneath The Citadel, the scent of rot and loam mixing into a sickening concoction. The only light comes from our singular handheld gas lamp. Unnecessary for me, but needed for my friend.
