Page 63 of Dark Island: Rescue
Didn't have to feel the crushing weight of her betrayal.
Time passed. Liliat went for a bathroom break, then returned. Sarah and Raviki joined them at the table, working on their own projects. Tula kept sewing, moving from one signature to the next under Beulah's watchful eye.
"Beautiful work," Beulah murmured. "You have a steady hand."
Tula said nothing, just continued stitching. In. Through. Loop. Pull tight.
"It's almost noon," Raviki commented from across the table. "The men will be back soon. We should break for lunch."
Tula's hands faltered. She would have to face Tony and pretend everything was fine, hiding the fact that she knew he and the others were not going anywhere. That they were going to be doomed to stay in the harem.
"You're doing so well," Beulah encouraged, misinterpreting Tula's hesitation. "Just a few more signatures and we can attach the new cover."
Tula forced her hands to resume their work. She could do this. She'd been hiding secrets big and small her entire life. What was one more secret on top of all the others?
The thought made her feel nauseous.
By the time the others headed out of the library, Tula had sewn together all twenty signatures. The manuscript's spine was intact again, ready for its new binding. Under other circumstances, she might have felt pride in the accomplishment. Today, it left her just as hollow as she had been at the start of the project.
"We'll do the binding after lunch." Beulah set aside the partially restored book. "The gold tooling is the best part."
Tula smiled, pretending to be excited about learning another new skill, and followed the others to the dining room.
The men were already seated when the ladies arrived. Tony's face lit up when he saw her, that open, loving expression that made guilt stab deeper into Tula's chest.
"There you are." He pulled out the chair beside him. "I was starting to worry you'd forgotten about me."
"Never." The word came out too bright, too forced. Tula sat and reached for the water pitcher, needing something to do with her hands.
Tony studied her face with the kind of attention that came from truly knowing someone. "What's wrong? You look pale."
"I'm tired," Tula said quickly. "You know the trouble I have falling asleep and staying asleep."
He had no clue. Most nights, he was fast asleep hours before her and then woke up hours after her. His mortal body needed much longer to restore itself than hers did.
"Again?" He found her hand under the table and squeezed it gently. "Nightmares?"
She nodded. "They're getting more inventive by the night. I'm cursed with an overactive imagination."
Her attempt at humor was met with a straight face. "Maybe you should ask Elias for some calming tea. What Areana has given you doesn't seem to be helping."
Across the table, Tamira's eyes met Tula's. There was a question in that gaze, concern mixed with something else. Suspicion, maybe? Or just worry?
Elias was watching too. "I can prepare a sleeping draught, but that might be problematic." He didn't explain why, but it was obvious. He didn't know how it would affect the pregnancy.
Tula plastered a smile on her face and forced enthusiasm into her voice. "I'm sure that I will sleep better tonight. Beulah is teaching me how to rebind books with new leather and new embossing. It's very relaxing. We are practicing on an old book that is not very valuable, so if we mess up, it won't be a big loss. The original binding is completely deteriorated with mold damage, but the text block is still good, and all the signatures are intact, so we're giving it new covers. After that is done, we'll do gold tooling for decoration." She was talking too fast, too enthusiastically about something she'd learned mere hours ago. "It's fascinating, really. The way it is done, how each signature connects to the next. The precision required."
Tony's frown deepened. "That's... great. But, Tula?—"
"Oh, and did I tell you about the gold leafing tools? They're so delicate. Little brass stamps with intricate patterns. Beulah says we'll heat them and press them into the leather, and the gold leaf will adhere to the impression.Can you imagine? We will be using tools that haven't changed much in centuries because the technique is so perfect it doesn't need improvement." She was rambling now, words spilling out like water from a broken vessel. "There's something beautiful about that, don't you think? About craft and tradition and?—"
"Tula." Tony's voice cut through her monologue. "Stop."
She stopped, mouth still half-open, the sudden silence ringing in her ears.
"What's really going on?" he asked quietly. "This isn't about bookbinding."
"I don't know what you mean." The lie tasted sour. "I'm just excited about learning something new. Is that so strange?"
