Page 100 of At the Mercy of Midnight
She understood now, why it had never worked before. She’d been trying to force herself into his shape.
This was her shape,hers.
Amelia stood, heart steadier, turning towards the waiting darkness. Without another thought, she slipped into it, moving silently into the depths of the cave.
Silas’ head hung forwards, strands of blonde hair sticking to his forehead, damp with sweat. The iron cuffs binding his wrists to the chair were etched with runes that burned cold against his skin, slowly chilling him to the bone. He recognised the rune. Unbreakable.
He felt wrecked.
There was something wrong with him, and it wasn’t just that he had used pulses of magic during the fight.
No, this was something else.
His entire body felt drained of energy. Each time he tried to lift his head or move his legs, it was like trying to shift through a viscous jelly, costing him with every tiny movement.
His eyes felt heavy, brain sluggish.
He tried assessing his surroundings, tried pulling details into his weary brain.
It was the pendant they had placed around his neck. He could feel it sitting heavily against his chest, taking something from him the longer he sat there, leeching away the magic that should have been his strength. He had fought when they had first arrived, but the longer he was restrained, the weaker he became.
The cave chamber was small, its stone walls flickering with the glow of a lamp.
His eyes shifted to the left. A doorway, but no door. Just a hole in the wall with a lazily fluttering piece of fabric closing him into the small space.
He was alone, as far as he could tell.
He could only be grateful for one thing in that harrowing moment.
Amelia was safe.
Silas presumed the pendant around his neck was what allowed him to be separated from her without the agonizing pain. He could only hope it would also disrupt the midnight pull, that she would stay far away, safe.
He was so tired.
Eyes drifted shut, brain sinking into oblivion.
Time passed.
A shift of his leg.
Silas groaned weakly but didn’t open his eyes.
A rougher kick to his shin that had him letting out a ragged noise before peeling his eyes open, glaring up at a masked man.
“Do you mind?” Silas asked angrily. “I’m a bit low on sleep, see?”
The man laughed softly behind the covering. “I knew you would be a difficult sort.”
Silas smiled sardonically. “Glad to meet your expectations.”
The man huffed another small laugh, and again, the voice andsomethingabout him was so familiar, making a part of his brain itch to make the connection.
“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked Silas, voice curious, probing.
Silas shrugged, lifting his lips into a smirk. “Needed some comic relief?”
The man blinked at him with dark eyes, saying nothing. Those eyes roamed over him in an unsubtle perusal, and again, the familiarity struck him, yet his brain refused to recall the reason.
