Page 52 of At the Mercy of Midnight
Defeated, he headed down to the kitchens. When he inquired, the staff informed him Amelia had not requested food all day. Silas prepared a tray for the staff to deliver, adding a small note that he was ready to speak when she was.
Hours passed, the sun making its descent and Amelia still hadn’t sought him out. Acting upon his thinning patience, he knocked at her door. When she didn’t answer, he knocked again, loudly, and purposefully.
A door sprang open, Amelia there with one hand on the door, the other hanging limply by her side. Face pale, Amelia stood with a removed expression that set him on edge.
“Can I come in?”
She shrugged, standing aside. “It’s your home, isn’t it?”
Silas sighed but didn’t enter. “As long as you’re staying, this is your space. If you don’t want me to come in, or you aren’t ready to talk, I’ll leave.”
Amelia met his eyes, saw that he was earnest, before gesturing for him to enter.
He brushed past, her arms folding tightly across her chest like a shield.
The fire crackled low in the hearth, the dim light sending shadows dancing across the walls. The wind outside had picked up since the sun had set, whistling through the windows.
She followed him to the couches, taking seats opposite each other. Silence fell, long and thick.
His eyes lifted, meeting her lost gaze. Sitting before Amelia again, the visions clung to his psyche, raw and sharp. Shadowed faces darted across his vision. The final wails of the pair bonded souls, their desperation echoing as the Midnight Realm claimed them. Silas wondered at his own fate,theirfate, and shivered.
A fate neither had even known was a possibility.
Her gaze lowered to her knees, and as he watched her fidget, Silas realised that the tugging ache on his chest was muted, easing in her presence.
The bond was taking its toll, making it physically hurt to be away from her.
The silence between them felt like a living thing, suffocating the air, but Silas struggled to find words.
Amelia was the first to break it.
“So,” she said dully, “we fail to break the bond, or put an end to the magic disturbances and we just…disappear?”
Silas exhaled slowly, gaze wandering to the hearth. He hated her tone, the words. A resignation he was trying to stave off himself.
“We don’t know that will happen, it’s not—”
“You saw the same visions I did, right?” she asked bitterly. “Every pair before us failed. The magic continues to destabilise as the years pass. The Rift grows…quicker now than it’s ever grown before. They were all consumed when they couldn’t right it.” Her voice weakened as she spoke, until the final words were but a whisper. “Not one of them have come back that we know of.”
“Then we don’t fail.”
Amelia’s laugh was humourless. “That simple, huh?”
She pushed up from her seat, stalking restlessly before the fire. “We don’t even know what’s causing the instability, or how to repair it. We don’t know why the bond matters, what the blades’ true purpose is, or how we approach it differently than those before us. And apparently the Midnight Realmisreal and wants to swallow us whole!” Silas watched as she cut herself off, placing her hand across her mouth, eyes scrunching shut. She sighed roughly, finally looking to him. “This was all some terrible accident, Finley…how did we end up here?”
His jaw tightened, panic pulsing in his chest. He reached up to rub there, only to realise that it was not his emotion. His eyes shot up. Amelia’s brows were pinched, eyes darting around, chest moving with rapid breaths. Her emotions were speaking to him louder, the bond strengthening. Silas’ hand tightened, resisting the urge to move for her. “Winslow, sit down. Let’s use our rational brains for a minute and think this through.”
A look passed over her face, and he thought she might yell. But the tension left her body, and she slowly sank back into her seat. She looked to him expectantly, like he might hold theanswers. Silas took in a deep breath when the feeling in his chest finally eased.
“You don’t think we’re doomed?” she asked, voice small.
“I think we need to be realistic about what we’re up against,” Silas said placatingly. His own heart thundered at the impossible task laid at their feet, but he would keep his fear to himself if it meant Amelia might draw some strength from him. “We do what we do best—we research, test and work towards the outcome we want.”
A spark re-entered her eyes and she bit softly at her lip, considering. “Your mother must have some more research we could use.”
“I think so, too. There should be journals and texts, but I’ve yet to find them. I’ll get her to come around.”
“We need to keep testing the blades,” Amelia continued, strength and purpose returning to her voice as she sat forwards. “The more we know about their magical properties, the more we might understand what we need to do.”
