Page 32 of At the Mercy of Midnight
She clutched at his shirt, legs wobbly. The pain receded as quickly as it had come, but her pulse hammered like a wild thing beneath her skin.
Silas laughed bitterly near her ear. “Well. That felt worse than last time.”
Amelia’s forehead rested against his chest, his hand sitting at the small of her waist, before she realised what she was doing and shoved herself away, hating that the closeness had felt comforting even for a few seconds.
“Yes,” she hissed with unnecessary anger, “it was.”
Silas grinned, but there was tension beneath it. “Care to place it on a scale?” he asked, and he quirked a brow when she just glared at him. “For scientific purposes, of course.”
Amelia huffed and sat back onto her bed. After a moment, she met his eyes, realising he was waiting for an answer. “You first.”
“Fine. I’d give it…a nine out of ten.”
Feeling cross, Amelia sniffed and leaned back onto her arms. “Right, well, I’ll give it an eight.”
He smiled knowingly at her. “Of course you will.” She didn’t respond and watched his smile slip quietly away before he said, “at least we know one thing for certain.”
“What’s that?”
His voice was quiet, resigned. “We’re bonded, and unless we find a way to stop it, this will happen every night.”
The morning air was crisp in the barely broken light of dawn, yet the Rider’s Retreat already stirred with movement. Mercenaries tightened their saddle straps, traders loaded their wagons, and stable hands called to restless horses.
Inside the Inn, Amelia cinched the straps of her pack and slung it over her shoulder. Her body ached from poor sleep, dreams haunted by the remnants of the dark place, shadows and whispers curling at the edges of her mind. She focused on the simple, repetitive task of preparing to leave rather than dwell on it.
Amelia knocked on Silas’ door.Twice.
His second response that she could enter was filled with humour.
Silas stood by the window, fastening the last button of his traveling cloak. His blonde hair was still tousled from sleep, but the sharp, assessing look in his eyes told her he’d been awake for hours.
“We should leave within the hour,” he said without looking up to her. “I don’t want anyone asking questions aboutwhere we’ve been or what we might have brought from inside the Rift.”
Amelia rolled her shoulders, adjusting the weight of her pack. “Nobody would guess what we have, Finley, and nobody cares where we’ve come from.”
Silas shot her a flat look. “Clearly you haven’t spent much time in these parts, or around other explorers. They always have questions, wanting to know what you know, wanting tostealwhat you might have discovered.”
She smirked even as a tendril of unease slithered along her spine. “So dramatic.”
“We have a small window of opportunity to keep this secret, Winslow,” Silas said, walking towards her and picking up his pack. “If anyone finds out, we’ll land ourselves in a lot of trouble. Imbued magic is no joke, there’s many people who would exploit us to find a way to have magic themselves.”
He pushed open the door and they both stepped out into the hallway. The room she had occupied sat across the way, door open, holding the memory of the night prior.
Amelia swallowed. “Yeah, I get it. But they can have it if they really want it. Spontaneous, painful midnight transportation? No. Thank. You.”
His brow twitched but he didn’t argue with her. He moved towards the stairs, pausing at the top to glance back when he realised she hadn’t followed. “You ready?”
Amelia took one last look into her room, the space carrying the echoes of their midnight tension. Then she exhaled, nodding.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
TEN
After an hour of riding, the trees gave way to rolling green hills, lit by the fresh, early morning light.
After feeding her, Tempest had appeared fresh and ready for another journey. To her annoyance, Silas had smugly taken his freshly groomed and fed horse, Ember, from the stables. It seemed they had taken decent care of his horse, after all. Though she was not sorry for being cautious.
They passed a Waystone, standing like a large, stone doorway. Amelia looked at it mournfully, eyes passing over the carved runes on the side of the stone. Their broken Waystone chips sat uselessly in their bags.
