Page 21 of Unraveled
“Did he also steal you away from your home?” I whisper, like the walls are listening.
“In a way...” Finley shakes his head, and amusement takes over the somberness that previously shone behind his features. Then he sobers. “I’m here because I must be. Because Ash is my best friend and my allegiance is to him.”
I frown. His posture is stiff as he shoves his medical tools back into the case. Its worn leather creaks as he opens it wide and pulls out a large roll of cotton bandages.
“Am I wrong to assume you won’t tell me why I’m still alive—or why I’m here?”
“You assume correctly,” he says. “I should get you to your room before you freeze to death in this icebox.”
“My room?” I take his offered hand, and he helps me stand like a newborn fawn, shaking and trying not to lose what remains of my supper. “Is that another word for dungeon?”
“You aren’t a prisoner, Mia.”
“What do you call being held against a person’s will?”
“Fine.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But you aren’t sleeping in the dungeons. Now, we should get going. The sun’s almost out.”
There’s a slight shift to his tone. I wouldn’t have noticed the hitch in his breath if the room wasn’t so quiet.
“Finley,” I plead. “I know Ash is your friend, but surely you can see this isn’t right. Help me escape?”
I stood too fast and now everything spins around me. He steadies me by my elbows, and his touch is warm with a spike of magic that eases my vertigo. His brows scrunch in the middle ashe looks at me with pity. I hate it, and I want to not like Finley, even though he’s been kind to me.
“If I do, you’ll die in the forest before midday. I can’t help you get all the way home because you know too much. It’ll take your people less time than you think to get here to try to kill Ash...”
My lips part as I try to come up with an argument, but the image of the beast in the machine takes my words away. I can’t promise my people won’t come. Not when Ash is so powerful he can destroy the veil. And honestly, I don’t know why I should care.
“I won’t tell them anything, I promise. I have magic and can protect myself.”
Except I don’t have my amulet, and without it, I’m nothing but a regular human. I press my hand to my stomach where the pressure of magic churns. Probably the remnants of something I took.
“Not during the blood moon,” he says, leading me out of the study and into a wide, dark hall.
Windows line one side, with metal details swirling like vines and casting long shadows on the polished checkered floor. Our steps echo as we cross the space, and the chill of the winter morning seeps under the layers of my torn dress.
I hug myself, trying to bring some heat back into my shivering body. I’ve never experienced this kind of cold. It’s like the kiss of death. I swallow and glance at the paintings lining the other wall. Dark hues of burgundy, forest green, and raw umber in a variety of still life of dying flowers.
“This is... cheery,” I say, quickening my steps to catch up to Finley, who’s left me behind. I don’t want to be alone here. “So, why is Ash so interested in the spell I used, or that I can do magic?”
“Who says he is?” Finley opens the door at the end of the hall. Its black metal hinges screech, and dust rains on us as we cross the threshold into a big, circular room.
My mouth falls open as I take in my surroundings. From the wide staircase hugging the wall, its banister beautifully sculpted to depict nature. To pictures framed in gold lining the upper half of the walls, from the top landing to the high ceiling, and arranged around a massive window letting in the gentle light of the approaching morning.
It’s not the grandness of this place that takes my breath away but the roses growing from every column, the vines climbing to the vaulted ceilings and covered with black blooms.
How can these flowers be alive in the middle of winter? When it’s so cold? My body is stiff with it. I stop moving to inspect the black leaves and even darker petals.
Magic clings to the surface. Around every stem and spine. The sort of power I can feel deep in my bones. They call me to come closer. To touch.
“Those aren’t regular roses,” Finley says from the bottom of the steps. He’s gripping the baluster with white knuckles, and he looks impatient. “Come on, Mia, I really need to get you into your room.”
I nod and force myself to move. His urgency is odd, and likely not good for me.
“Why are we in such a rush?”
“Because there are times during the day that walking these halls is dangerous for us.” He signals for me to walk in front of him, and blue magic swirls around his fingers.
“For us, humans?”
