His voice, soft and strained, uncoiled behind me.
Sylum.
His steps were slow and deliberate as he approached me, hands casually tucked into his pockets. His face blurred in and out of focus, features half-shadowed, half-moonlit. Icould have sworn a small smile tugged his lips as he reached out to steady me.
“Lucy,” he said again, but his voice was muffled, as though I were hearing it from a great distance.
I blinked up at him, my lashes weighted, trying to focus. My thoughts wouldn’t string together. My mind refused to fully wake. My head felt like it had been wrapped in wool.
His hand brushed my brow, sweeping hair from my face with a tenderness that did not match the coldness gathering in his eyes.
He cupped my chin roughly, tilting it side to side as if examining me. He made a disapproving sound with his tongue.
Then, I felt another presence.
A woman stepped up beside him. I couldn’t see her clearly. Only the blur of pale skin, dark skirts, and a halo of golden hair before she stepped out of view. They spoke in low voices, urgent, but unreadable. The sound washed over me in waves of static.
Then, she laughed. Soft. Feminine.
“I told you she’s completely out of her mind.”
I tried to turn my head toward her, but Sylum’s hand remained under my chin, firmly keeping me in place.
He glanced up at her and smiled again.
Mystomach turned at the sight.
I tried to speak, tried to ask who she was—though I was nearly certain it was Lydia—but I couldn’t even part my lips.
I tried to lift my arm, to reach for him, to say something. But, the words never made it.
“Hold her still,” he gritted out, voice hard and cold.
The woman shoved me forward, restraining my arms behind my back.
“W-what are…” I croaked, struggling against her hold.
Sylum reached into his jacket pocket withdrawing something unseen tucked in his palm. A gentlepopsound echoed through the hall, then a glass vile was pressed to my lips.
“Drink,” he commanded.
I turned my head, thrashing side to side. The pressure on my wrists eased as the woman adjusted her grip, but the relief was short-lived. He reached up and grasped my chin roughly again. He squeezed, finger and thumb pressing into my cheeks painfully until my lips parted.
Warm metallic liquid offended my tongue, burning as it slid down the back of my throat. I cried out, trying to spit it out, only managing to breathe it into my lungs instead. I coughed and sputtered, twisting and thrashing my body violently. My elbow landed against something solid and the woman shrieked, then a loud thud as a cracking sound reverberated, falling silent suddenly as her cry faded.
Sylum peered over my shoulder in her direction, his eyes narrowing, his jaw clenching.
He slid one arm beneath my knees, another behind my back, and I was lifted. Cradled against his chest. I pressed my cheek weakly to the front of his coat, unable to keep my head from lolling. The scent of him was familiar, woodsy, but then again, something was off. There was the faintest hint of something foul, almost medicinal, that turned my insides.
“Not yet,” he murmured, looking down at me. “But soon.”
I tried again to speak, but darkness crept up again, slow and unstoppable.
And I let it take me.
When I opened my eyes again, I was in my bed. Pale morning light mingled with the moon outside my windows.
I wasn’t even sure if I had slept at all.
