Page 65 of At the Mercy of Midnight
He had never seen someone pale as quickly as Aurora did in that moment. Her skin turned almost grey, blue eyes stuttering. She avoided his eyes. “No.”
Silas narrowed his eyes, disbelieving.
“What do you know?” he demanded.
Aurora looked at him warily, before slowly moving to the double couch, sinking into the soft cushions. Her head fell into her hands, her defeated posture injecting fear through him.
“Aurora,” Silas said softly, shifting to sit next to her.
She let out a shaky breath before finally looking at him. “After he disappeared, I was snooping in his study. I just wanted answers…I wanted to know what was so damn important to him that he would risk his life, risk leaving us. I found two journals. One was fathers, and the other…well, I still don’t know. It was glyph-locked, and I’ve never able to open it. Absolutely diabolical glyph—kept zapping me.”
“Why wouldn’t you just tell me?”
“Father was going mad,” Aurora explained flatly. “His journal is full of these scribbles, going on and on about the Midnight Realm and how he was trying to find a way into it. He thought it held a source of power that would fix everything. The magic and all.”
“Where’s the journal now?” he asked, mind reeling.
Aurora picked at her nails. “I’m not sure you’d want to read it. His last notes made no sense. I think he went mad.” Her head shook with obvious grief. “That place, the Rift, does something to you. I can’t believe you went there…”
He pulled her to him for a one-armed hug. “I know it’s hard to understand…” Silas trailed off, eyes drifting as his brain whirred. “There must be more than those journals.”
“When I was looking for answers in the study, I did notice the fireplace had been used recently.”
His brows furrowed. “Okay?”
Aurora turned her face up to him. “I think mother burned his research.”
Silas stared, uncertain how to process that. He stood, restlessly pacing before turning back, arms raising to clasp the back of his neck. “How could you not tell me this?”
Aurora looked down guiltily. “I just thought…Silas, you are so much likehim, that I thought you would want to continue his research, to find out what happened to him.” She glanced up with a shrug. “You were his clone, wanting to understand everything, pursue every topic,change the world. I was afraid you’d follow in his footsteps…and disappear right along with him.”
Silas scoffed.
“Am I wrong?” Aurora demanded, “to think you wouldn’t have picked up where he left off? You didn’t even know about this, and you’ve been galivanting into the most dangerous part of Aethrial! Imagine if you had that information…what would you have been willing to do?”
“Well,” Silas said bitterly, “what a lot of good keeping it from me did, then, hm?” He strode for the door, pulling it open before turning back. “Looks like I’ll be walking in his footsteps soon enough, anyway. If we don’t break the bond…Winslow and I are both screwed. Maybe I’ll see father again, soon.”
He pulled the door closed behind him forcefully. Standing in the dark hallway, his shoulders shook with uneven breaths, anger, and disappointment swelling.
How could he save them from the fate that had taken the previous bonded pairs? Silas needed more answers, and it was clear that was being made as difficult as possible.
Frustrated and unable to process it all, he made his way past his own room and Amelia’s, walking to the kitchen. Locating what he was after, he poured himself a healthy portion of an old whiskey that had been his fathers’, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat.
For once, time meant nothing.
It was blissful.
His body felt weightless and carefree as he flounced around his room, drink sloshing dangerously.
Silas felt at ease as he played an old track he had used to enjoy. Back when he had found pleasure in things like music.
He wasn’t thinking about science, or the blades, or midnight.
He was simply…Silas.
With a drink.
And a slightly unsteady rhythm while he shifted about to the beat of the music.
