Page 95 of The Cerulean Sister
I close the last shutters, casting the room in more darkness than before.
Lord Hollis is already lighting long tapered candles on the furniture surrounding the room, the orange glow licking the stone walls in a sinister dance, sending me back to my first night in my cell.
I watch him walk casually across the room to light more tiny flames, as if the world is not ending all around us for a reason none of us seem to know.
"My lord, your guards will be outside the door. I urge you to secure it once shut," Ben says.
Whatever danger I felt out there feels like something I can get away from, like if I keep moving, I can outrun it. But in here, I’m trapped, willingly imprisoned inside.
I watch them leave, peering in both directions before filing out. Ben glances at me and nods, a final gesture that he has completed his sworn duty to watch over me in my time of atonement. He took vows to protect the Estate and the priestess order, and he has upheld them better than I can say I have.
Lord Hollis sits back in his seat, popping a few morsels of food on his plate and sipping wine.
I practically run for the door to latch the lock as it closes. It won't hold if someone truly wants to get in.
"We need a heavy barrier." I drag a chair from the table, giving up halfway at the realization that it won't make any difference.
Maybe we can push a large credenza in front to buy us some time. I picture men with a battering ram on the other side, and a fresh surge of anxiety courses through me as I push on the end of a solid piece of furniture that doesn't budge.
"We need to put this in front of the door!" I say on another push against the credenza.
"I wondered where all the servers went," he muses. "I suppose it is hard to refill wine when you are laid out in a hallway somewhere."
He heard Ben recounting what we saw, how we had to step over bodies to get here, and now he has the nerve to make such a comment. His stilted sense of self has polluted his mind enough to think he is immune to the violence happening all around us.
I release my grip on the edge of the furniture and glare at him. He has no idea what he has done, what his pride cost us in the corridors. How much I could have helped Ben and that high priestess if he was not constantly taking away my powers the moment they start to make their way back to me.
"I ran through the Estate completely helpless while you sat in here behind the thick walls in your chamber, sucking on chicken bones, holding what is rightfully mine hostage. This lock will not hold back what I have seen."
He rolls his eyes while downing the rest of his wine. "Drink?" He ignores me.
"A high priestess was slaughtered in front of me! You may have power over me now, but it is an illusion. It is finite, my lord. Every morning, my gifts call to me."
"I'll get it myself." He rises from his chair and straightens his robes, passing me to reach the decanter.
"Priestesses are being murdered in our halls, defending the Estate, and you hide like a rat knowing its place!"
He grabs my veil hard, pulling my head down to the side.
I scream, my heated words dying in my throat. The pins pull and rip at my hair as he holds me, shaking me when I try to scratch his hand away, gritting his teeth in a snarl.
"And what place is that? Below the blessed priestess? So elegant in her new gown. Do you know whatelseis an illusion?" He pulls at my grey veil to prove his point and then throws me to the floor in a crude push.
I hold my head, trying to calm the throbbing, pressing fingertips to the tight pins to feel for blood.
"Go sit in your seat,HighPriestess, or I will drag you there."
On shaky legs, I rise to my feet, adjusting my veil intentionally while he pours more liquid into his cup. I take too long on purpose and pay for it with another pull of my veil.
He drags me to the table while I grapple at his hand, trying to lessen the ripping of my scalp as he pulls me backward. He slams me into the seat next to his, the restricting rope of his shadow like restraints wrapping around my wrists, my legs, and across my chest.
I thrash and scream for him to let me go, but he only sits, eating and watching me.
"If you are obedient, I will let you eat," he muses.
I can't help the hysterical laugh that comes out. "If you give me what is mine, I will consider taking pity on you when whatever is out there gets in here."
"Those have almost finished healing." He wafts his fingers at my knuckles. "Shame to have to make more. And there is no reason not to enjoy our dinner."
