Elswyth looked confused, and Silas nodded behind her. She turned around, her eyes adjusting to the dark, and looked through the open door to her right. Inside the ornamental lantern roof of the conservatory was a small chamber. A mattress lay on the floor, blankets strewn across it. A writing desk stood against the far wall as well as a wardrobe and a small washing basin. Books and letters lay scattered on the floor.
“You livehere?”
“Did you think archaeology was so lucrative? Dr. Gall has been kind enough to offer me lodging in the Royal Gardens in exchangefor my services. This is how I rescued you from the corpse flower. I can see everything in the conservatory from up here.”
“Apologies. I assure you, I did not know. I merely meant to get some air. This whole party is…”
“A farce?” Silas said.
Elswyth turned away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m fairly certain I do. I think everyone knows exactly what this is.”
“And what is that?”
“A marriage of convenience between an old man and a desperate girl from a dying family,” Silas said. He seemed casual, glib, even, but Elswyth felt something darker burning beneath.
“I am doing what I must to protect my family, instead of allowing my passions to control me,” Elswyth said. “It’s not something I would expect you to understand.”
Silas turned, wrapping his hands around the iron rail. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I do let my passions control me. It’s the bastard blood in me, I suppose.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I only meant that I must do what is logical for my house. I have to make calculated decisions.”
“You barely know the man, Elswyth.”
“I know him as well as any man I might marry. What I know is that he will financially support my family, and he will help me continue my studies. Perhaps I can use his money to finance my own investigation into Persephone’s disappearance.Thatis what I know.”
“Elswyth—”
“If you’ll excuse me, Sir Silas, I need to return to my engagement party,” Elswyth said. She crossed the balcony and found the staircase, quickly descending.
Silas followed. She heard his hurried footsteps on the stairs. “Elswyth, wait—”
“Stop following me,” she called back. She came to the bottom of the stairs, into the central chamber, forgetting which tunnel she came through. She moved toward the sound of the party. On either side of her, shadowed forests loomed behind the glass walls, and each step took her deeper into the maze of glass.
Silas’s footsteps sounded behind her, and she moved faster.
“Elswyth, if you would just listen to me—”
She came to a door at the end of the hall, metal stained green by time. She grabbed the wheel that sealed the door and pushed. A wave of warm, wet air hit her, and she stepped into the room beyond.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. She stood in a colossal greenhouse with high glass ceilings that refracted the light of the stars. The path before her was narrow, and ferns drooped over it, concealing the way. She pushed forward, swatting away the heavy leaves.
She wove through the underbrush until she came to a small clearing in the center of the chamber. Vines hung in tangles, dangling from trees. All around her, exotic flowers slept, some with their blooms closed, others still open, their nectar perfuming the air. An artificial pool sat in the center of the clearing, a waterfall trickling into it over mossy stones. Birds trilled their warning songs in the canopy above. She recognized the room, now that she was inside: the Hall of Orchids.
In that moment, she might have been in a jungle, deep in Indiaor Africa. The heat of the air was oppressive, and she started to sweat, her gown already soaked with water from the air and her march through the greenhouse.
She leaned against a tree, panting from the heat, and wiped her brow.
Silas crashed into the clearing behind her, also sweating, a small cut on his left cheek. Leaves stuck out from his hair. He began swatting his way through the hanging vines, moving toward her.
“Elswyth, you must listen to what I have to say.”
Rage overcame her. She grabbed the vine that hung down from her right, sending a wave of vitæ through it. The vines around Silas sprung to life, wrapping around his legs, reaching down from the trees and ensnaring him. She sent another wave of vitæ through them, and they tightened, holding him fast. Another vine slithered up his chest, wrapping around his throat. Tendrils crawled over his face.
“What—what are you doing?”
“If you are going to harry me so, then it is the prerogative of a lady to defend herself.” She sent another pulse of vitæ, and the vine around his throat tightened. She began to ache from the exertion.
