Page 58 of Nocturn

“They each have a section of the council wing, but they also have their own Estates throughout the village.”

“You should hurry,” Branwen interrupted. “Lord Vaner is not one who likes being made to wait.”

“Oh dear, I let myself get distracted.” Vera winced. “They are awaiting you in the parlor.”

I hurried out of my new chamber, shuffling out to find Egan waiting, his mouth forming a line.

“Miss Amara, you must come with me.”

“Once you return, I shall show you the rest of our wing. We have a bathing area, toilet, and access to a balcony. We also have access to tonic wash and other clever magickal items,” Vera confided.

I could only nod. My nerves were heightened. What could Lord Vaner need to see me for? An image of the white-haired, stocky man invaded my mind.

I trailed behind Egan, his steps clipped. He turned away from the hall, leading me deeper into the House of Lords.

This was a village within the village, and a labyrinth of its own. I peered over my shoulder and my gaze collided with another officer shuffling Vera inside the parlor.

Lord Draven requested that I be brought here. It felt like a pointed slight from him. Last night, and the pleasure he had wrought from my body meant nothing.

Foolish of me to have expected more.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Alchemy

Lord Vaner stood from the tan couch he sat upon in the parlor. A much larger one than the one in the feeder wing. The heavy presence of officers told me we were going where very important people stayed. The council wing Vera mentioned. I hesitated near the entrance, but Egan urged me inside, shutting the door with a loud thud.

“Miss Amara,” Lord Vaner approached and clasped my hands. I stiffened, but let him tug me as he wished. “You are excused, officer.”

In panic, I turned to look at him over my shoulder; Egan’s nostrils flared. The blue irises in his eyes seemed to thin. For a moment, I expected him to tell Vaner no, but he turned on his heel and left through the wide doors, shutting them behind him.

“Stubborn boy.” Lord Vaner clicked his tongue, turning to me with a wide grin. “Welcome to the House of Lords.”

He curled his arm through mine and shuffled me across the parlor, through a wide alcove, farther into the wing. Another officer waited right outside. Each point of entry had an officer, unlike the Citadel where Lord Draven stayed. Odd, that the king was not the most closely guarded. But knowing Lord Draven, it was more likely others needed protection from him.

Lord Vaner continued to look at my throat until it made me uncomfortable.

“Welcome to the beauty of Sycarious Court.” He spanned his hand out, motioning to every bit of the hall curving to the right. Were the Archives this way? That would explain the heavy protection. “You must feel so honored to be of service to the king.”

I smiled tightly, but there was no need to. Lord Vaner moved to the next topic of conversation, going on about my accommodations and how I would be happy for the few moon rotations I had left until everything came to a pinnacle.

“And it is very important you do as the alchemist tells you.”

An alchemist, not a healer? My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. Healers were bluebloods with the specific ability to heal wounds. There were different levels to their healing abilities. Alchemists, on the other hand, had a much more invasive method to ‘healing’ by mixing unpracticed magickal elements.

We reached another entrance, this time without a door, so I was able to peer down the stairs into the stretch of darkness.

“Down we go.” He released my arm and waited for me to descend.

Nerves pinched my belly, but I stepped down, attempting to regulate my breathing. It was incredibly difficult considering it kept making me think of that hole I had been shoved inside of with Hollows.

I did not relax until I was at the base and I strode through a propped open door. A man with large circular bifocals looked up, his eyes seeming wider from the magnifying glass covering them.

“Saints,” he gasped, standing so quickly he knocked over a vial. It went rolling across the wooden platform where he had tons of liquids boiling inside beakers. The vial was stopped by one of the thick, open books.

He ran toward me, causing me to brace my spine to stop myself from stumbling back. Once he reached me, he slowed, his mouth parted.

“It worked,” he breathed, running his fingers over my throat. I leaned back, away from his touch.