I shove up off my back, my blurry vision settling until I recognize what’s around me. A set of double doors is across from me. Marbled white floors. Golden arched ceilings painted with florals and cherub dragons. I glance to my right to find the familiar set of massive windows peering out into the star-twinkling sky. The moon is nowhere in sight.
I’m back in my room. Lying on the floor in the exact same spot I woke up in the first day here. Patting myself in a panic, I find myself free of blood. Still in my blue gown from the ball.
I snap my attention to the door. To the exact tile where I had gotten Cyrus’ letter. Crawling on my hands and knees, I scramble to get a closer look. But it’s not there. And it isn’t in the drawer where I thought I had placed it before I left with him to the gardens.
I swipe the sweat off my forehead. It was truly a…dream? Perhaps? My scream had been so raw and visceral. Yet, my throat doesn’t ache the way it should if it came from me.
I take a seat on the edge of my bed, staring at the door.
Marcella never came.
Twenty-Two
- MARCELLA -
When I return to my room after the ball and slip off my shoes, a note slides across the tiles from underneath my door.
We need to talk. Come to me.
Please.
-C
I pace about my room barefoot, staring down at his words. My heart and mind are a swirl of murky waters. Ineedto speak to Lyra tonight at midnight in her room. Alone. Away from listening ears. I need to know what she discussed with Cyrus in the reflection room.
But do I ignore Cyrus’ call for me?
He likely feels guilty about the situation with my brother. Perhaps wants to talk it through. But I’m still reliving my past as it comes to me in waves. Raw. Unprocessed once again. I’m scrambling over myself to pick up the pieces of my broken memories and put them together to understand. It’s unfair that he has all the memories I don’t.
I slide my gaze to the door, wondering if Devin waits on the other side to escort me to Cyrus.
If I see that fool’s face one more time…I’ll find a way to punish him for whatever he did to me, weapon or not.
Glaring at the door as I pull away from it, I decide if it is him waiting for me on the other side, I simply won’t go.
I stalk to the bathroom to undo my hair from the pinned curls. Shaking them loose, I toss the pins onto the counter, then pause.
Slowly, I pluck one of the pins, holding it up in the light.
Perhaps I can pick Lyra’s bedroom lock with this. As I twist it, a coy smile comes to my cheeks.
Yes, this will do. And I won’t even have to chance knocking in the event it gets unwanted attention.
I slip it back to pin a section of hair behind my ear. Then lean forward on the counter to get a better look at my reflection. The cut beneath my eye is almost gone. As I touch a fingertip to it, I barely feel the raised skin.
Odd. Perhaps they mixed something in the wine to speed up our healing process. I had three…wait. Maybe four? Four glasses at dinner?
While I normally can hold my liquor quite well, there’s a soft edge to my mind. Only noticeable if I focus hard enough on it.
I leave the bathroom and assess the position of the moon outside. Waiting until it climbs higher before I move for the door.
Opening it a few inches, I find the hallway empty. Sticking my head out slowly, I survey the shadowed walkways, freezing to pick up any subtle movements. But nothing stirs.
I look down to the left. Into the direction I need to take for Lyra’s room. Then I glance to the right down the hallway that would lead me to Cyrus’ office.
We need to talk. Come to me.
Please.
