He nodded, his jaw ticcing.
Another silent moment. “Will you tell him something for me?”
She noted the color on his cheeks even as he was trying to control the look in his eyes. “You can speak to him yourself. He can hear you.”
St. Silas jerked at this. It was as if he had never contemplated the idea that he didn’t need Leena for his voice to breach the boundaries of death. He nodded imperceptibly. “Theo, I wish I could’ve done something different. I am sorry.”
Leena looked between the two of them: Theodore Daye, still a boy of perhaps fourteen, stunted by death, stood in jarring contrast to St. Silas, who was so vitallyalive.Never had she seen the disparity between the living and the dead so starkly.
Theodore Daye’s eyes widened, as if this apology had been a strike and not a balm to him. He pulled at his hair, his entire body shaking, and the temperature of the room dropped even further. Then, as if he could bear it no longer, he disappeared.
“Theo forgives you.” Leena had no regrets in uttering thisfalsehood, not allowing herself to assess why she needed St. Silas to believe this.
“You have a terribly honest face, Miss Al-Sayer.” The words St. Silas had first used to describe her still echoed today.
Leena desperately wanted to ask St. Silas who Theodore Daye was to him and why he was apologizing to the young ghost. But Leena knew that there were secrets better left untold, buried deep within the chest like a second heart.
In the silence that ensued, St. Silas picked up the red diary, slipping it into his coat pocket again, before he turned toward the window, the snow obscuring the glass and the light of the moon.
“You need to prepare your bags tonight. Immediately after Theo summons Percival, we will be leaving.” He continued to stare out of the window as he said this. “However, should we meet any…complications beforehand, do not wait for Percival. Leave as soon as you can.”
Leena’s mind was working rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was saying but failing to understand the reason behind the sudden urgency suppressed by his seemingly calm tone. She had already known that they would be leaving Weavingshaw as soon as Percival’s ghost was found, but this new shift—for St. Silas to willingly abandon his plan before its completion—was no less than astounding.
“Mrs. Van has been given instructions that—unless I tell her otherwise and we are able to await Percival—she will collect you shortly after dawn to return directly to Golborne.” He turned away from the window to look at her once more. “I do not trust Martin. Mrs. Van knows the halls of Weavingshaw unquestionably. She will be able to lead you out and into the pre-arranged carriage without being seen.”
“Wait—”
“If I do not meet you in Golborne,” he continued, as if not hearing her interruption, “you will find in the bottom drawer of my desk an envelope. That is yours.”
“Wait,” she interjected forcefully again. “The way you are speaking, it is as if you’re expecting an execution of some kind tomorrow. What’s happened to make you speak this way?”
He didn’t respond immediately.
“My lord,” she insisted, walking up to him. “Whathas happened?”
His face was blank. “There will be a duel tomorrow at dawn. I have every confidence that it will end in our favor and we should continue with our plans as before. However,” he said slowly, “I am also preparing for the…unexpected.”
Leena absorbed his words. “The Tar has been discovered, hasn’t it?” An angry flush crept across her cheeks. “Where is Rami? Allow me to kill him before the duel tomorrow. This is the fault of his rash, impulsive behavior!”
“He is currently locked away, and he is to have no visitors tonight, but he is in no danger,” St. Silas replied. Then, after another pause, “He will not be fighting in the duel.”
She reared back. “Youare fighting in his place?”
“I told you from the very beginning to leave your brother behind, but I’ve learned now that telling you anything will result in the opposite happening.” It was not quite laughter in his eyes, but something close toit.
Leena did not find humor in this.
A hundred questions filtered through her mind, but the inescapable one waswhySt. Silas would take the place of her brother, especially as Rami was no favorite of his.
“Why are you fighting instead of Rami?”
St. Silas shrugged. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to dispose of Martin.”
“Why?” she persisted, although a part of her already knew the answer.
He raised his brows at her. “I do not think you will like the answer.”
“For Weavingshaw?”
