House of Sand and Secrets (Books of Oreyn #2)(31)

Perhaps I am ready to face it. And perhaps my courage has come too late.





TWO CROWS


“My lady?” The coachman wants to close the door and take me back to my house and to a set of rooms where my loneliness will be thrown back in my face a thousand times over. Master Sallow’s face, so paternal in its worry, is set in lines. The darkness only makes them look deeper.

“No,” I put my hand to the door to stop him from closing it. “Wait.” Jannik has disappeared into the Guyin house and right now he is making plans without me. What will he and Isidro do? Will he turn back to his family and beg for their involvement? He will have to. If this law finds footing in MallenIve, it will surely filter downriver to Pelimburg.

I leap down from the carriage step. The night is still warm and scented with green leaves and damp earth. Morning cannot be far off. Above us the stars are growing dimmer and sliding down to meet the edge of the world. I should be heading to my empty bed, the covers turned down in readiness for me. The dawn could creep up on me while I lie on my back, watching the ceiling and wishing I knew what to do.

I make up my mind, and follow Jannik. My boot heels ring lightly against the steps, like small stone bell clappers. The sound is pitiful. With one hand on the knocker, I hesitate, then slide down to try the handle first.

The door is thankfully unlocked, for servants are still unwilling to work in the Guyin house. Isidro must have opened the door for Jannik and forgotten to latch it. I peer in. “Isidro? Harun?”

There is no answer, and no sign of either Jannik or Isidro. They must be here, though. I slip inside, and call for Harun again, but softly, as if I do not really want him to know I’m here. If he’s awake, he’ll be with them, and if he’s not, well, perhaps it’s better that way. Gris knows, by this time of the night he’s probably long since passed the borders of sobriety.

With care, I pick my way through the unlit rooms, until the dark settles and I can see better. The lack of servants has begun to tell. Dust clings to the furniture and the banisters, cobwebs already dulling the curls and points of the gilded mirror frames, and the air has a neglected, musty, male smell. The rooms pulse with silence. My reflection peers hazily back at me from the large mirrors, and I am insubstantial as a boggert. Wherever Jannik is, it’s not on this floor.

There’s been no sign of Harun except for the collection of empty bottles and the half-finished glass on a small table in the smoking room. He’s most likely passed-out, and even I am not so crass as to go drag Harun from his bed. I’ll find Jannik quickly, and we’ll leave. I make my way to a large drawing room that leads out to the gardens. The potted plants are withering, dropping leaves at the feet of the emerald glass statues that guard the corners of the room.

The windows here reach up to the ceiling, and once they looked out on immaculate hedges and flowerbeds. Now the hundreds of small panes are murky and the golden curtains seem tarnished. A breeze flaps one of the dull curtains. This way, then. I stand hidden in the drapes and gently push the glass doors wider. The faint sound of voices comes to me; Jannik and Isidro. They’re not far away.

I skim the rambling garden. The place is overgrown and the bushes and flowers are ragged and gone to seed, the grass meadow-long and knotted with blackjacks and milkweeds.

Though I can hear them, I don’t see the two vampires anywhere. The garden is a maze of nooks and crannies, with one section leading haphazardly to another. I follow the voices, down the steps. Dew-wet grass drenches my boots, stockings and hem.

Creatures rustle in the hedges, warned of my approach by the swishing of my dress through the damp vegetation. Across from me a pergola of stone pillars and wooden beams stands neglected in one hidden corner; ivy runs wild over it, and the small pathway is treacherous with moss.

I pause and let the shadows envelop me. Jannik and Isidro are not far away, talking in furious whispers. They have not noticed that anyone has invaded their secret garden. They’re so intent on each other. If either one had to turn, they would look straight at me, but they do not, and once again I feel like I am not really a part of the world. Nothing but a dusty reflection.

“And what, exactly, would you like me to do about it?” Isidro drawls in his usual mocking tone. But it’s brittle and sharper than usual. The moonlight makes his pale skin look like the cloudy glass marbles that children play with; opalescent and unreal.

“Run to Pelimburg with me,” says Jannik. “Harun can stay here, he’ll be safe enough.” He leans closer, and his voice is harsh.

With him. With him alone. There is no place for me in the vampire’s plans. My heartbeat slows, and I wonder in a distant, curious way if this is how people truly die – slowly, so slowly that they do not realize it is happening. Perhaps I have stepped out of my own body and now I can observe this painstaking decay. I feel like one of the intricate clockwork toys of my childhood, run down and packed away in lamb’s wool.

“You expect me to leave him?” Isidro is backed against one of the pergola’s pillars. He looks like he’s trying to seem casual, careless, but instead he has the air of a trapped buck. It doesn’t suit him - fear. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look anything less than beautiful. That brings me back to myself. The key turns, the clockwork grinds. My heart begins again, keeping me alive.

Jannik takes a hold of the lapel of Isidro’s coat, clutching it tightly. He doesn’t look at Isidro’s face, but at his own hand. “What would it matter if you did?”