Page 69 of At the Mercy of Midnight
“…didn’t go very well?” came Amelia’s voice.
“Why would you assume that?”
Aurora.
“He was drinking when I found him after,” Amelia said, a sternness to her tone that he was so familiar with, except it was usually directed at him. “I’ve never seen him have a single drink at conventions or Spire conferences. It seemed out of character.”
“Do you think you know his character?” Aurora responded in a curious tone.
“I can’t say I know him that well, no,” she said awkwardly. Silas heard the shifting of wood scraping across the floor. “But I have known him for years, and I’m making an observation of what Idoknow.”
“I’d always had the impression that you despised him,” Aurora said, “so I might have assumed you weren’t making many observations.”
A quiet pause.
“Are you trying to bait me into saying something that you’re already thinking?” Amelia asked, Silas almost giving away his eavesdropping by snorting. “Because I’d hate to disappoint whatever conclusions you’ve drawn in your head.”
Aurora chuckled softly. “I like you,” she told Amelia.
“Great,” she responded, and Silas could hear the eyeroll in the tone, “now I can die a happy woman.”
Another laugh, this time louder, before it died quickly followed by a heavy silence. Silas pictured them looking at each other, both understanding Amelia’s joke held a sombre gravity.
Right.
That’s enough.
Silas stepped into the dining room as though he hadn’t just listened to them bicker at each other.
He paused, glancing between the two women, as though surprised to see them. Aurora sat at the head of the table while Amelia faced him. They both had a teacup before them and a plate of food, though neither seemed to be making a move to eat.
They had indeed been staring at one another, but as he entered, both sets of eyes shifted to him.
“Uh, good morning,” he offered.
Silas strode to the table, taking the chair across from Amelia. Keeping his gaze low, he reached for a platter of sausages, the smell managing to make him both ravenous and nauseated.
“Morning,” Aurora muttered.
Amelia remained quiet.
Halfway through his first sausage, his stomach uncertain about whether it would stay inside, Silas finally looked up.
Amelia dragged a fork across her plate, pushing her food around, eyes on the table. There was a look of saddened anger on her face, jaw shifting as she played with her food, eyes blinking a little too much.
He remembered the night before and what had passed between them after midnight. Silas set his sausage down, eyes on his sister.
She watched them both with a blank expression, lips pursed.
After a long, uncomfortable moment of silence, Amelia breached it.
“Your week is up, Finley,” she said, not looking up from her plate. “I want to go home. Today.”
Silas sighed. “We haven’t finished our research here.”
Her head shot up, fixing him with a glare. “We’ll resume in Ivory City. You asked for a week, and I gave it. I want the library and my own resources. Plus, we have the conference in a few days that we can’t miss.”
He swallowed, looking to Aurora as though asking for help. “Aurora has two of father’s journals.”
