Shaking my head, I scurry away toward the farthest part of the room. Away from her. Nearly tripping over my skirts before I gather them to give me better strides. I pass the dance floor, bursting into the reflection room and shutting the door before I slam my back against it. As I glance around, I freeze.
Two women are on the loveseat. Moe is pinning Stella’s knees behindher to the cushions, and she stops licking Stella, who’s halfway through a moan, when they both notice me.
“Oh…my.” I gather my skirts and fumble for the door, attempting to shield my eyes. “I am so, so sorry for the intrusion?—”
Moe returns to devouring Stella with open-mouthed eagerness, Stella’s legs quivering as she slips her hand into Moe’s hair with a cry.
What in the hells is happening? Am I hallucinating?
I slip back out of the reflection room. Only to find Devin strolling toward me.
“Are you alright?” he pauses, flicking his attention behind him toward the dance floor. “What was all that about?”
When his eyes slide back to me, I nearly crack under all the shock of everything that just unfolded in the last twenty-four hours. The trial. Drowning. Almost burning alive. Willow’s haunting remarks. The creature’s voice in my mind beyond nightmares. Everything swarms me in an endless torrent that has the room is spinning.
“Hey,” Devin whispers, taking a step closer. “Hey, look at me. You don’t look well. Do you need to sit down?” He brushes past my arm, reaching for the reflection room door.
“No!” I blurt, grabbing his arm. Wanting to protect the two women in the room. I’m unsure if they’d be punished. What would they do if they found the women mingling in more romantic affairs?
“I-…I-” I freeze when his eyes narrow at me in suspicion. Shaking my head to shake out some answer. “I can’t speak here.”
Understanding falls across his face. “Come here,” he whispers and tugs me off toward the corner of the room, then turns down a dimly lit hallway. “King Cyrus is with Willow right now. I imagine he’ll want to speak with you next, so we have to be quick.”
Devin stops at the dead end of the hallway. Turning to the left wall and grabbing the bottom of a sconce, he twists it counterclockwise. The wall shifts to reveal a hidden door. Devin ushers me into the dark room beyond it, and I toss one quick look down the quiet hallway before I enter.
It's a room only lit by the moonlight washing through tall, skinny windows lining one wall. Rain patters against the glass.
Rain.
That vision flashes through me, now haunting me bothawake and asleep. Me standing in a building with the roof caved in and rain pouring down around me.
Devin slides the door closed behind us, yanking me back to reality.
The room is small. A patterned rug takes up the majority of the floor, and four tufted chairs are in a circle. More floral dragon wallpaper decorates the walls. But aside from that, it’s rather plain compared to the rest of the castle.
“What is this room?” I turn around to face Devin. My skin prickles in goosebumps now that I’m alone. With Devin.
He takes a step toward me, lifting his hands in a silent show of friendliness. “It’s a hideaway. There are several throughout the castle in the event there's an attack. I figured I’d bring you here so you can speak freely—the walls are soundproof.”
That doesn’t make me feel any better.I step back slowly, my hands grazing over the nearest armchair and my heel clipping the foot of it. I stumble but catch myself as he walks slowly to me.
“Lyra, it’s alright. I’m not going to harm you. You didn’t look well, and this was the only place I knew I could speak to you in private.” His voice is soft when he motions to a chair. “Please…take a seat for a moment.”
Keeping my eyes on him the whole while, I slowly sink into a chair. Without lowering his hands or turning his back to me, he slides sideways until he’s in front of the chair across from me. And sits.
He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Has the trial shaken you? Do you need something stronger to dull your fear?”
“What do you mean by stronger?”
“The wine at dinner. Lady Bethany knew the second trial in particular would be emotionally distressing.”
“Youhavebeen drugging us.” The words feel bitter in my mouth as I say them. “You’ve been using a stronger dosage of the opium poppies beyond just pain relief, haven’t you?”
His eyes are soft, mouth tight. He doesn’t need to respond for me to know it’s the truth.
I press on, “You realize aside from heavy sedation, it also creates intense hallucinations? Do you understand howterrifyinglyrealistic they feel?” Like my reflection blinking out of sync. The vivid dreams.
His voice is grave. “I imagine it’s not enjoyable. But perhaps a little more bearable than what the trials are putting you through.”
