The witch who runs the house—Mari—appears at the end of the hall near the entryway, checking to see who has arrived. Wiping her hands on her apron, she smiles warmly, if nervously.
“How’s Nephele?” Thibault inquires.
He unties his black cloak and hangs it by the door, paying me no mind as I stand stock-still in the entryway. Every muscle in my body tightens as I sniff the empty air.
“She’s still resting. I just looked in on her about a half hour ago.” I hear the innocence in her words, that she believes them to be true. “Shedidwake up, though. Earlier.” The young woman’s grin spreads proudly. “Even ate an entire bowl of pork stew and bread, which I have plenty of. Some of the others are eating now if either of you would like to join them for a warm meal.”
“Maybe later,” Thibault replies. “But in case I don’t see you again tonight, thank you for caring for Nephele.”
As he turns for the stairs, I note the distance in his eyes, a reflection of his occupied mind.
“Oh, Mr. Thibault!” the girl calls.
He pauses, hand on the newel post.
“Harmon was able to retrieve the books you requested from the archives. I left them by your door.”
He presses a hand to his chest and inclines his head. “Thank you again, Mari. You’ve been so helpful.” A curious glint lights his eyes. “Can you keep an eye on Nephele tonight? And see to it that I’m not disturbed?”
Pressing her hands together, Mari squares her shoulders with new purpose, eager to help. “Of course, sir. Absolutely.”
And with that, Thibault begins steadily stamping up the stairs.
We’ve spent too much time together, because thanks to our brittle and meager conversations, I know he’s bitter that he hasn’t had much time to foolishly seek a route to reach his woman, and that the bond they share might be alive, but it’s silent. He’s also pissed that another day has gone by without any sign of Gavril, not to mention that no matter how hard I try to track him, and no matter what lead we follow, Eryx still roams free, a willing vessel for Thamaos should my old brother god decide to use him.
Which, he will. We just don’t know when.
Blood rising, I follow behind Thibault. He bends and lifts the stack of tomes by his door, no doubt for research on the phenomenon that stole Raina Bloodgood, then slips into his bedchambers and slams the door with his foot. I sense trouble, but I have other things to deal with right now.
I head straight for Nephele’s room. It’s dark, save for the warm light of a dying fire. The tray of food and note I left for her are gone. The rose is still on her nightstand, however, tilting in a slender vase.
At a glance, the mound under the covers nearby looks like a person cuddled beneath the blankets. But I can smell the ruse for what it really is.
That little trickster.
I scrape my hand over my face and glance around. If she were down at the beach or even in the gardens or lighthouse, none of this would’ve been necessary. Which means she went somewhere she shouldn’t have.
My gaze snags on a slip of linen sticking out from beneath her pillow. I cross the room and pull it free.
Her sleeping gown.
Shaking my head at her poor attempt at deception, I press the garment to my nose and take a deep breath. Not because I need the reminder of what her skin smells like, but to fully awaken my wolf who had fallen asleep after a long day and jostled to life when I walked through the door downstairs. I’ve been hunting for two days, but it’s time to change the animal I’m tracking, I suppose. And to hunt alone. Thibault would want to know Nephele’s whereabouts, but tonight’s confrontation needs to be between her and me.
There’s just one issue. Sifting is growing ever more problematic. So much so that Thibault and I walked home tonight becauseI wanted to enjoy the chilly air.He seemed to question my excuse, but I couldn’t care. The last time I sifted us, I left a trail of aether in my wake, lucky he was too hyper focused on finding Eryx to notice. The last thing I need right now, days before I must carry his lover’s sister north, is for Thibault to witness this weakness living within me and question my ability. But I don’t hesitate to use that ability now.
I summon the wind and aether, relieved when it finally arrives and carries me into the city.
18
NEPHELE
Istand in front of a door to an apartment that used to be my home, the past beating inside me like a frantic second heartbeat.
I don’t remember everything. I don’t know if I ever will. But the mysterious mental barricade that has hidden the first eight years of my life seems to be crumbling, enough that I can now glimpse a forgotten life between the cracks.
My heart is torn between relief and discontent as I cast a glance down the quiet hall where another familiar door awaits. A door that isn’t a door at all anymore, though I’m certain one used to be there. Now, there’s simply a dingy white plastered wall. White and plain as everything else here.
I’d recognized this austere, sun-bleached building the moment I turned the curve on the gravel road that cuts up the hill between the first and second battalion’s barracks. I knew this was where we’d lived, even through the filter of falling darkness. It’s the same as all the buildings in the garrison, save for that one missing window, right in the center of the top floor. To most eyes, it simply looks like a mistake. Like they forgot a window when they erected these barracks.
