House of Sand and Secrets (Books of Oreyn #2)(58)

“Shit.” Jannik scrabbles over to find a length of silk and tugs it free before holding it up to my face. “Hold on, it will pass.”

He presses the cloth in place for me and eventually the dribble slows. Carefully I pull the silk away; it’s almost black, dripping over my skirts and Jannik’s shirt. There’s a pattern of spray across his face.

The room slants, slips away from me. I can feel myself falling but even though I command my arms to reach out to catch on to something – anything – they remain slack. No part of my body responds and I feel terror and then

nothing.



*



When I wake, I’m lying stretched out on the couch. The soft blanket is tucked under my chin, and my face feels clean, the blood wiped away.

The light in the room is dim. The fatcandle is sputtering, making shadows leap along the walls.

I blink.

“So ask me a question,” Jannik says from the other side of the room. I turn to his voice and a dull pain clamps my head. “Don’t move, Felicita.” He sounds weary.

“What-” I lick my lips, swallow. My throat is dry and I’m parched. “What question – oh.” I close my eyes; let the soothing dark caress the pain away. “What was the name of my favourite pet?”

I can feel him in my head, walking like a ghost between my memories. In my dream room, I strengthen the walls, hold them fast. It’s surprisingly tiring.

Eventually, I feel him retreat. “No idea,” he says. “Well done.”

I groan and shift my head slowly, inching my cheek toward the pillow until I can see him. He’s cloaked in the shadows, but the paleness of his skin stands out, cool as a Long Night candle. “That’s it, then?”

“Hardly. It’s a start. You’ll work on building the rest of your house, though it’ll take years, and when you’re done, every thought and secret you want to keep your own will be inside and I’ll never be allowed in unless invited.”

“Years,” I echo. “That’s disheartening.”

He shrugs. “I warned you.”

I sit up gingerly. Every part of my body has been bludgeoned into an aching pulp. “How long have I been asleep?”

“About three hours. As soon as you’re ready to travel I’ve made arrangements for us to stay in rented apartments. It won’t be the luxury you’re accustomed to, but it’ll be better than this.”

“Jannik.” I can feel now the dampness between my legs, can smell clearly the salty musk. Even if I barely remember it, it happened. “I have slept on sacks in a house with no windows. I think I’ll survive a rented apartment.”

He smiles at me. “Of course you will.”

And I will send a servant to buy me rake’s parsley. There’s no point living up to Harun’s Visions.





SILK ARMOUR, GLASS ARMOUR




My head feels bludgeoned in, but I help Jannik with the moving arrangements as best I can. Not that we have anything left to move. Our other holdings are occupied, and neither are suitable. The Grove Estate is too far south, out of the city and in the orange country downriver, and the house on Chantery street far too small. Besides, Eline’s men will know if we return to either of those. Jannik has said he will find us a place, and I believe him. Somehow, he will cover our tracks.

I supervise from the heat of the offices, have clothes brought to me, new contracts written out for the servants. Master Twissel, Mrs. Winterborn, and Mrs. Palmer meet with me, and it’s with relief that I realize how much I can trust them, how much they will do for me. They are family, and we have all lost a home. Mrs. Winterborn’s narrow face is crumpled. She still has the ring of ivory house keys and she flicks them this way and that, the bright knocking sound sharp as a crack in a wall.

There is nothing left of Riona to send home, nothing left of her life and belongings. “We will provide for her brother,” I say. We can send her salary in as a kind of pension. Even my brother would have made sure that the family of the dead were paid off. It feels so cheap, so utterly useless in the face of what has happened. But I cannot bring her back to life. All I can offer is coin.

Mrs. Palmer sits with her hand over her mouth to keep her sobs quiet.

A constant stream of messengers and servants file in and out of the offices and my seal stamps page after page in an inky blur. It will take a lot of silk to pay for us to rebuild our life, our name. We work until my head feels ready to roll right from my shoulders, and I wouldn’t even care.

I hardly see Jannik, and when he returns that evening, I am only half-awake. The exhaustion has filled up the hollows of my bones, weighted me down and turned my mind to oily sludge.

“Come on, Felicita,” he says, and under the joking tone, the strain shows like support wires.

My head is pillowed on my arms, and I feel no urge to rise from the desk I’d fallen asleep at. “This is fine,” I mumble at him. “Between this and the couch, I think the desk might be the more comfortable.” The sour copper of blood tickles the back of my throat, and I cough.

He rests one hand against the back of my neck. “I see you made some progress with your wardrobe.”

“Hush, I’ve done more than find wash-water and pretty dresses.” I manage to lever my head up. The room is dark, lamps unlit.