Page 71 of At the Mercy of Midnight
“It will take a day, at least,” she said. “Will you be going north, then?”
He chewed thoughtfully, still puzzling out what had set Amelia off. “I hope I can convince her to stay a few more days, at least until the conference.”
“And if you can’t?”
He shrugged. “Then I’m going north today.”
Silas left the dining hall, intent on finding Amelia. He muttered practice apologies to himself as he walked the hallways, though he struggled to manifest the right words, not knowing exactly what he had said.
Not finding Amelia in her room, he wondered if she had gone to the lab without him. He headed for the spiral staircase.
Silas was on the top step when a hand gripped his upper arm fiercely, startling him. He whirled, finding his mother standing before him with a lilac cloak fastened around her shoulders, staring at him with widened eyes.
“Mother?” he asked, pulling his arm from her bony grasp.
“You cannot leave,” she whispered.
“What?”
Veralind leaned in closer. He could smell alcohol on her breath. “Silas, my son, you cannot leave the city. You both must remain here.”
Silas looked away. “Mother, I can’t express how little I care for what you want right now. Winslow and I will leave if and when we want.”
Over the theatrics, he began treading down the stairs.
“Danger only awaits you if you leave this city!” she called after him.
Silas glanced up. She grasped the metal railings, staring at him. He ignored her and left.
Before he could reach the front doors, Aurora raced around the corner, skidding to a stop before him.
“Silas,” Aurora panted. He rubbed a hand over his face, already over this day. “Come quickly…Amelia, she’s trying to leave!”
He tilted his head. “To the lab?”
Aurora shook her head. “She’s at the stables with her horse, she said she’s leaving for Ivory City.”
“What?” Silas said, heart kicking up a notch. He ran past his sister, bursting through the front doors and startling one of the staff members who had been innocently standing there. He hurried down the steps, dashing around the corner. He spotted Amelia ahead, a hand on Tempests’ reins, saddlebags packed.
“Winslow!” he shouted in warning, holding up his hand.
Amelia tensed and whipped her head around, spotting him running towards her. She shook her head and fumbled for something in a pocket, pulling it out. He swallowed his fear as he saw the Waystone chip.
“Wait, please!”
Her eyes darkened as she glared, lips set into a thin line. He was still a distance away when Amelia raised her chin in defiance, her hand twitching as her thumb pressed the centre of the chip.
Then she and her horse disappeared before his eyes.
Pain.
Silas had been running across the cobbles, but the moment she had pressed the stone, his entire body flinched, and he fell with a pained grunt to his knees.
His chest heaved, eyes clenched shut, body bowing and arching from the pain of each cell within him being set aflame.
A growl tore from his throat as he worked to keep himself conscious.
“Silas!”
