Page 73 of At the Mercy of Midnight
Silas made small, comforting noises while she cried. There would be a time to discuss the idiocy later. For now, they were both recovering, and he would make sure she was okay above all else.
“It’s alright, Winslow,” he murmured quietly into her hair. “We’re okay now. We’re together.”
Her head nodded against him, before she broke into a fresh wave of sobs, the lingering shock of their shared agony held tightly between them.
EIGHTEEN
Silas had visited before, yet Ivory City was still breathtaking.
The Waystone jump landed just outside the city, so they walked at a slow pace across the rolling fields of the outskirts. Ahead were pale stone buildings, gleaming under the heat of the late morning sun. The Lux Spire, a pinnacle of academic pursuit and the city’s most recognisable landmark, shone blindingly in the light, earning its name as it glowed with an ethereal light. It was the heart of the city, seen from afar in all directions, an awe-inspiring structure of ivory-hued marble and intricately stained glass.
Amelia led her horse quietly into the city, Silas walking alongside. They’d hardly spoken to each other since letting one another go beside the Waystone. They had agreed to visiting Amelia’s home before discussing their next steps.
When they stepped through the polished golden gates into the city, Silas found a bustling cornucopia of scholars, merchants, and artisans. Ivory City exuded an air of refinement, with its carefully maintained cobbled streets lined with trimmed greenery, and its towering buildings adorned with delicate carvings and magical symbols wherever you looked.
Amelia led the way, pulling Tempest along quietly, her hooves making loud clacking sounds with every step.
He knew where she had lived since graduating from the university, having stayed in the same lodgings during his visits. The Lux Spire was surrounded by an octagonal building, erected around the university, hosting thousands of rooms for students, scholars, and professors. When Silas had been in the Spire’s upper levels, looking down at the Octagon, he thought it looked more like a barricade to keep people out of the university.
Amelia had a top-floor apartment in the Octagon, courtesy of her wealthy parents who were both professors in the Spire.
She gave her horse to a stable hand, giving Tempest a soft pat before gesturing for Silas to follow her into the towering building. It was not nearly as tall as the Lux Spire by far, but they still stood in its long shadow, Silas having to crane his neck to see the top.
Silas followed her into the lobby of a western edge of the Octagon, still marvelling at the opulence of the ivory marble, the soft, shiny timber of the walls. Everything glittered and looked fresh, like it had been built yesterday. He would bet that every surface had been freshly polished within the last handful of hours.
They stepped into an elevator, and she reached for a small round button, but he stopped her.
“Which floor?” he asked, pulling her wrist away.
Amelia looked at him, confused.
He grinned. “I’ve only been in an elevator three times in my life, and I’ve never been able to push the buttons.”
That earned a tiny smile and small laugh. “Such a child,” she said. “Floor eighteen.”
Silas eagerly reached forwards to touch the number eighteen, feeling a silly thrill when the doors slid closed sleekly, and the elevator began to hum before shooting smoothly upwards.
He joined Amelia as she leaned against the wall facing the doors. Silas was watchful, wondering how she was doing. That was how he noticed the way she shifted her shoulders uncomfortably, a grimace befalling her face. He tilted his head as his eyes roamed over her. It was not the first time he had noticed a similar discomfort.
“Are you alright?”
Her eyes snapped to his and she immediately straightened her posture, face smoothing out. “I’m fine,” she said, looking resolutely away. Silas wasn’t fooled by the brush-off.
“Okay,” he responded, promising himself to bring it up again later when she might be more amenable to sharing.
On the eighteenth floor, he trailed behind her until she was opening the door of her private apartment.
Silas held his breath as he stepped inside, uncertain what he would find in a space that Amelia had occupied for many years. Would there be hints to her true nature with odds and ends that would point to things she enjoys, or would it be clean, sterile?
He set his gaze eagerly around the modestly sized but carefully arranged room. His first impression was that it was a space that represented her scholarly mind while also being a place of quiet solitude.
There were two tall, arched windows that offered breathtaking views of the city below, Silas spying the beautifully crafted terraces and canals beneath them. With the large windows, natural light flooded the space, illuminating the pale stone walls and dark wooden shelving that lined nearly every inch of available wall. There were two columns in the central area, adorned with sconces that would give the room a soft golden glow when the sun descended.
A sturdy oak desk sat beneath an arched window, cluttered with open books, pages of notes and half-finished sketches of arcane symbols and runes. Pens and notebooks were scattered about in organised chaos, and it was all so very Amelia that he had to fight his quiet smile.
Against a far wall, sat a narrow but comfortable looking bed with a thick woollen blanket on top and far too many pillows lined neatly at the head. On the opposite side of the room was a small fireplace, with two wingback chairs and worn-looking cushions. Silas could imagine Amelia curled by the fire with a book, reading late into the night until her eyes drooped, eventually falling asleep there, book still open on her lap.
Personal touches were subtle, but Silas picked up on a few with his first sweep around the room. An old telescope on the windowsill. A pressed flower between the pages of a journal. A single scarlet scarf hanging on a hook by the door.
