Page 42 of Love and Death
I shall be God of All the Living and the Damned.
13
HAZEL
Ipromised myself that I would only rest for a moment, only close my aching eyes for the briefest of respites, and yet—
When I next breathe in, the room is no longer dark. Early morning light, or at least this realm’s simulacrum of it, pours in through the window, pooling in warm puddles across the floor.
I lurch upright, clutching at the blankets in frantic confusion, only to find the tear-stained book still here and the room still empty.
No one has returned.
At least Florence had been right about one thing, the corset was flexible. I had hoped it might help keep me awake, but I hadn’t even noticed it as sleep carried me through a dreamless night.
I scramble from the bed, once again tucking the book into its hiding spot, and nearly slip on the stone floor in my hurry to get to the door.
It’s still locked.
The stairway beyond as quiet as ever.
Sighing, I step back and make my way into the next room. I splash some of the steaming water over my face, working the salty crust of dried tears from my skin and eyes and smoothing out a few stray hairs as I turn toward the mirror.
If it weren’t for the slight swollenness of my lips and redness tinging my eyes, I’d almost believe Florence was just here.
I could almost believe that she was coming back. That I hadn’t sent her to …
Gods, who knows what end.
Tears sting the backs of my eyes, threatening me once again, but I choke them back. Swallowing the ache in my throat, I close my eyes and take a deep breath in before slowly exhaling.
I have to think clearly. I have to be ready for Hade—
A loud clang in the stairwell startles me out of my moment of calm. My eyes fly open, fear clutching at my chest as I hurry to the open archway to listen.
I hardly dare to breathe, my ears straining to hear over the pounding of my heart.
There’s a long, agonizing moment of silence, and then … footsteps.
Someone’s coming.
Someone’s returned.
Cautiously, I step toward the door, the dagger’s press suddenly all too obvious against my thigh. I take a few soft, steadying breaths as the thundering in my ears only grows louder at the thought.
Another long hush follows, and then I hear what sounds like a pained grunt.
Confused, I listen as what I now believe to be staggered footsteps draw closer, accompanied by the pant of ragged breathing and the occasional groan of pain.
Obviously, whoever is out there is struggling to make it up the stairs. Dread settles in the pit of my stomach as I try to guess who it could be.
Was Florence caught and tortured for sneaking around the palace? Is that why she’s only now returning?
But then, why would she be let go or even allowed to see me?
No. Besides, the groans sound far too deep to be hers.
Maybe it’s Eros, finally making his way to me after escaping whatever horrors he’s faced since I last saw him.
