Page 21 of Even Angels fall
I can’t fly.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t say them. I won’t say them. I’m not here to make friends.
I’m just passing.
”No.”
“Okay, then let’s get you to your room.”
He walks away, expecting me to follow.
It takes me a few seconds to realize that he didn’t wait for me. He’s not been right next to me all the time.
I’m not a prisoner?
He turns my way after taking a few steps. “Coming?”
I’m not a prisoner.
It’s not an order, and if I preferred, I could stay here for a while and I don’t think Brice would mind.
I jog to join him, and before I know it, he turns to the left and goes up some stairs.
I guess I’m about to discover what is behind the doors of the second floor.
Once up the stairs, he turns on the left and keeps walking until we’re almost at the other end of the cathedral.
There is only one door after this, and after that, it’s the end of this open corridor with the view of the inside of the church.
“It’s his room,” Brice says as he gives a nod in the direction of the last door.
He doesn’t need to tell me who “he” is, I know.
It feels as if Elhyor had planned a lot of things in advance of me coming here, but if I’m right, he’s soon going to regret that he picked the room next door for me.
I might be a beginner at seduction, but I’ve seen enough to know that moans can make some men wild.
I’ll make him pray he never chose to let me sleep next to him.
Brice opens the door for me, and I feel like I have done a jump in time.
I’ve lived inside Versailles’ palace for all my life, and I’ve only ever seen how bird-shifters modernize old buildings, but this isn’t Versailles. Versailles wasn’t modified with taste. Of course, they kept the throne and made two copies for each of the archangels, but other than that, everything has been modernized to the excess.
Walls have turned to screens, furniture had turned to black and white, impersonal ones, and most of the wooden floors had been destroyed when they added water and electricity to the buildings.
Only theGalerie des glaces—the Hall of Mirrors—had been left untouched.
Here, it’s different.
I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, everything inside the church feels as if modernity hasn’t touched it. Why would it be different inside the other parts of Notre Dame?
The room isn’t huge, but it looks grand.
Just under colored windows sits a four-poster bed made from a dark wood that I don’t recognize. The bed sheets and the comforter on it look like the softest I’ve ever seen, and if I wasn’t feeling so gross from my walk here, I would be jumping on the bed already.
On the sides of the bed, there are two small tables, each with their lamp.
So, they did bring electricity to the building and yet, the floor under my feet looks old and shiny, as if generations after generations had walked on it.
