Page 64 of At the Mercy of Midnight
“Aurora,” Silas said in a placating tone, “let’s go inside and we can talk. Winslow doesn’t need to witness you yelling at me.”
Aurora looked at him scathingly. “Is that so? Or do you want to keep this private because, perhaps, she doesn’t know?”
His heart sank.
“Know what?” Amelia asked.
Aurora opened her mouth, but Silas stepped between them, facing his sister. “We will speak privately, because however mad you are, you know this ismystory to tell, and not yours, so don’t do something you’ll regret,sister.”
Aurora glared, crossing her arms. “Fine.” She whirled, stalking towards their childhood home.
Silas turned quietly to face Amelia. There was nothing accusatory on her face like he imagined there would be, only confusion.
He cleared his throat. “Uh, she’s a bit of a force.”
Amelia didn’t respond to that, asking instead, “what was she talking about?”
Silas glanced behind him, finding Aurora standing impatiently on the top step, waiting for him. He turned back. “We’ll speak later. There’re still a few hours before midnight, I’ll find you beforehand.”
He left no room for argument, walking away, praying for patience to endure this conversation.
Silas followed her into the east wing until they stepped into her old room.
“Is mother floating about the halls?” Aurora asked airily, though Silas heard the falsity of it, knowing she cared.
“She’s around,” he answered, not missing the tension around her shoulders as she flung off her heavy cloak. “I’ve not seen her since the night we arrived.”
Aurora twisted, giving him an odd look. “Let’s touch on this ‘we’ business. Amelia Winslow…you’re working with her now? Or the more important question…thatsheis working withyou?”
Silas moved to the fireplace, feeling the chill in the dark, near-empty room. Barren of human residence for so long, the space had a definitive coldness. He bent to retrieve the logs. “She could only deny my brilliance for so long.”
“Silas.”
He looked over his shoulder, brushing wood shavings from his hands. Aurora’s look was knowing, hands on her hips. Silas sat back on his haunches with the urge to laugh. Seeing his sister was odd yet familiar.
He sighed softly. “You’re not going to like it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Like what?”
Silas turned away, muttering the word to ignite the fire rune, watching it spark to life with immediate bright, warm flames. He stood, facing his sister.
“We ran into some trouble in the Rift—”
“Of course you did, idiot!” Aurora fumed, pacing before him. “It’s a place rife with horror and magical disruption. Anything can happen there. I can’t believe you would—”
“Aurora,” Silas said, cutting off her rant. She seethed but fell silent. “Winslow and I found some relics, which have a connection to the Monoliths.”
Aurora sighed before shaking her head. “Always after a new discovery. Just like father.”
“Just listen,” Silas urged. “We were impacted by the relics. They…did something to us, and we’re working to find out how we can fix it.”
She blinked, confused. “Impacted you…how?”
Silas reached up, running a hand through his hair, hesitating to say the next words. “We were bonded by them, causing a connection between us that I believe is similar to—”
“Our parents’ research,” she deadpanned, face suddenly flattening out, eyes dulling. Aurora had always hated listening to lectures, reading certain academic books and altogether live with the expectations of the family. She made a noise in the back of her throat and turned away. “That’s…” She sighed quietly before looking back to him accusingly. “You’re anidiot.”
Silas exhaled his disbelief. “It was an accident,” he said, “and now we need to know what we’re up against. Would you know where father’s research journals are?”
