Sliding down against the closed bedroom door, as the sounds of assault on the barricade door below pounded louder thanmy heart, I wondered what would happen when—not if—they breached the door.
What would they do to me?
Would I be killed swiftly or would they keep me alive to parade around their prize?
Would I ever have the chance to see Selene again?
29. What a Joke.
Selene Borealis
How was it possible for the mansion to be so overrun, so quickly? They had to be entering from multiple locations—or perhaps they were already here. Not simply given help from the inside, but alreadyonthe inside.
Despite my sense of smell being useless and my hearing impaired with ringing due to the explosives, I was able to hear the breathing of others gathered in the room I was about to pass.
“Show yourselves,” I demanded, stopping mid-path.
It was likely servants, hiding—not knowing how or where to evacuate to—but another sense, some called it our vampiric sixth sense (more accurately perhaps our tenth or twelfth sense, depending on opinion) told me to be cautious.
“You never call, never visit, and this is my greeting,” Lydia replied.
I groaned. This idiocy was so very clearly genetic. Vasilios, Vallen, and now Lydia. It was too many to be a coincidence.
“Maybe it’s contagious,” I thought aloud. After all, Adamantia wasn’t this foolish. She suffered from obstinacy—a flaw that would likely end in her death. But she wasn’t an idiot.
“What?” Lydia asked from somewhere within the room.
“I wonder if your clear lack of intelligence—your hubristic, narcissistic foolery—is genetic or contagious. Either would explain how you share such traits with our uncle and cousin, the traitor. Though the former is more worrying. It won’t be enough to simply kill you and those you have infected—I’ll have to clean out the entire Ardens line,” I replied.
“Are you calling me an idiot?” she shouted, affronted, stepping out of the room into the corridor. She looked much like I had remembered her: bleached blonde hair, makeup too thick, clothing too tight.
“Yes,” I told her.
“Well this idiot has you surrounded. There’s no escape, Selene. You might as well surrender now, and I’ll make your execution quick,” Lydia said.
“I’ll make you the same offer,” I answered.
Lydia laughed—that brash, loud laughter that was designed to turn heads. She even flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked back into the room, checking to see who was watching her.
“Pathetic,” I said.
“You’re pathetic,” she retorted, turning her attention back to me and straightening her stance.
I didn’t reply. I wanted to throw her through the nearest window. Drag her into the maze and watch her from the viewing ground. I’d give her just enough guidance to ensure the maze inflicted the most delicious kind of psychological torment before her death. I’d feed every last rebel of the North to the maze. Let it grow and devour the entire estate if necessary.
Yet I couldn’t attack—not when I didn’t know who or what was waiting within the room that Lydia stood in front of.
“What’s stopping you from approaching, Selene? Are you scared?” she mocked.
“Simply cautious. I understand how weaker, lesser beings feel a need to travel in groups for safety. I’m curious who you have waiting in that room,” I told her.
She sneered. “We’re taking Ardens Estate, from you,” she said pointedly. “Could your ‘lessers’ do that?” she asked.
“Rats can gnaw through a ship’s hull. Pests don’t need to be powerful to spread disease,” I replied.
“You’re calling me a rat?” she asked, infuriated.
“All True North scum are rats—spreading disease to those lacking enough intelligence for foresight.”
