Page 43 of The Stone Curse
The goyle who opens the door to the Mason mansion is old and hunched over. “Can I help you?” His attention flies from me to Orix, and his eyes light up. “Master Albion, how wonderful to see you.”
“Benny, it’s good to see you too.”
Benny steps aside to let us in. “Mr. Mason is out at present, but you may wait in the parlor if you wish.”
“Actually,” Orix says, “we were hoping to see Selas before we head to the funeral.”
His face falls. “Ah, yes. Such a terrible thing.”
“It is,” Orix says. “But I hoped to make the journey less gloomy with a visit with Selas.”
“I’m afraid Mistress isn’t accepting visitors at present.”
My heart sinks. “Please. Can you speak to her and ask?”
His brow furrows. “And you would be?”
“One of my most promising initiates,” Orix says. “Selas had a strong hand in training him. I’m sure it would do her good to have the company, even if for a few minutes.”
Benny gives a curt nod. “I’ll see what I can do. Please take a seat in the parlor while I speak to her.”
He shuffles off up the steps, and Orix leads me across the polished wooden floors into a room with high vaulted ceilings and a large, airy feel. A hearth crackles with a generous fire, and there are enough seats here to host several goyles. A large gilded frame containing a family portrait hangs above the hearth, and I spot Selas right away. She can’t be more than fifteen or sixteen in the painting, and her eyes aren’t milky but a rich shade of brown, but it’s the slight dips on the corner of her mouth that give her away—that almost smile that I love.
“I’m afraid Mistress has declined a visit,” Benny says from the doorway.
The pit in my belly yawns wide. She doesn’t want to see me…
Orix sighs. “Ah, a shame, Benny. Such a shame.” He pauses, index finger going to his lips. “But, since we’ve come all this way, maybe you can make us some of your famous tea?”
Benny’s eyes light up. “Of course. Right away.” He makes to leave.
“I’ll come with you,” Orix says quickly. “The kitchens are so much more hospitable.”
Benny presses his lips together in a suppressed smile. “You always did love the window seat.”
Orix leans in as he passes and whispers in my ear, “Take a right at the top of the stairs, fourth door on the left.” Then louder, “Touron, you said you needed the washroom? It’s the first door on the left when you get to the top of the stairs.”
He drops me a wink and places an arm about Benny’s shoulder to steer him away.
Heart in my mouth, I take the stairs to the top floor two at a time, then take a right. It’s plush and carpeted up here and smells of furniture polish. There isn’t much light, though; all the doors are closed and so are the drapes at the end of this hallway.
I hurry to the fourth door on the left, go back to make sure I’ve counted correctly, screw my courage into a ball that vibrates in the middle of my chest with a thump, thump, thump, then knock.
Three raps.
“What is it now?” Selas calls.
I take that as a cue to enter and crack open the door. It’s dark inside, but a sword of light lances across the room from a gap in the thick drapes, slicing across the expensive looking bedding on the large ornate bed.
Selas sits, propped up against a tumble of pillows, her dark hair loose and wild about her shoulders. One leg is stretched out and covered in a thick cast, resting on more cushions. There’s a book propped open on another pillow on her lap, and her fingers graze the pages, sliding over them as she reads. They pause now, and she slowly lifts her head.
“I told Benny to tell you I wasn’t taking visitors.”
I swallow past the fist in my throat. “He did.”
“You snuck up?” The corner of her mouth lifts. “You must want to see me badly.”
“I do.”
