Chapter 4 #4
“I’m not certain. But it makes the most sense so far.”
“Do you think she was trying to influence you and me?” Cirian asked. “I felt no brush with magic like when Tobias used his Command around me. No pressure in the air. Why would that be?”
It was a reasonable question. One that I couldn’t answer.
There was so much wrong with the theory I’d created, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was close to the truth.
If this woman had been one of the Adored, then it would have made controlling any of the Mortals that stepped out of line that much easier.
She would be an invaluable asset to the Sleeper.
But Cirian was right—if she were an Adored powerful enough to influence other Magi, then her Magic would have felt smothering in that moment.
I was attempting to solve a puzzle without the entirety of the picture. But until I could see the whole truth in the daylight, I would be groping around in the dark.
We continued the rest of the way in silence, with the exception of Malachi’s humming. He certainly seemed happy. But was that merely a facade ordered of him, or the proof of the benevolence of the Sleeper?
My mind drifted back to the parchment in my jacket and the instructions therein. If these people had truly helped Malachi, would that be proof enough that the information given to me could be trusted? Or was I risking Tobias’ safety just because of my selfish desire to see him wake?
As the steeples of the Cradle’s Cathedral loomed closer, I muddled over these thoughts till a sharp pain bloomed behind my eyes.
It was late, and I needed sleep. I wanted nothing more than to return to Paradise and begin working through the information regarding waking the Greenes, but there would be no trains running this time of night.
Also, I didn’t want to leave until I knew for certain that Malachi’s mind was once again his own.
Which meant I would be forced to spend the night under the Church’s watchful eye.
“Let me escort you back to your room, Malachi,” Cirian told the man as we climbed the stairs leading to the entrance of the Cradle.
“Shouldn’t we go see Her Eminence?” he replied, his humming pausing only long enough for him to form the question.
“She’ll have already retired for the evening,” Cirian explained, pushing open the heavy wooden doors and ushering us inside.
“Yes, of course,” Malachi responded, a certain listlessness in his voice striking my ear.
“We will meet with her first thing tomorrow,” Cirian assured him, clapping him firmly on the back. “After we all get some rest.”
Malachi hesitated, his eyes staring up at Cirian for a moment too long to be natural. Then he blinked and nodded, a smile creeping across his face once more. “As you say, Acolyte. I’m looking forward to speaking with Her Eminence.”
Cirian cut a glance toward me, and I nodded, acknowledging his concern.
“Come now,” Cirian continued. “Let’s get you to bed.”
We traversed the winding hallways, eventually finding ourselves outside of Malachi’s room once more. Cirian unlocked the door by pressing his palm against the ward, a deep blue light flashing just before the door swung open.
“Rest well, friend. We’ll come get you at first light.”
“First light,” Malachi repeated, his gaze distant as he stared into the darkness of his chambers.
“Is something wrong?” I asked him.
“We should go see Her Eminence,” Malachi responded, his gaze rising to meet mine. “I must speak with her.”
“In the morning,” Cirian said firmly, wrapping an arm over the man’s shoulder and guiding him inside. “First light. You have my word.”
Malachi took two steps into the room, his back to us as he began to hum once again, his voice filling the sparse space.
Cirian closed the door, muttering a few words as the shimmer of the ward rebuilt itself over the wood.
“Something odd is afoot,” he said after his incantation.
“Your deductive reasoning is impressive.”
Cirian snorted a laugh.
“Can he get out of there?” I asked.
“Oh, so now you support holding someone for their own safety?”
“Shove right off.”
We shared a laugh that reverberated around us in the stone hall.
“You look tired, Bast. Come. Let’s find you a place to rest.”
The idea of separating myself from Cirian under the roof of the Church caused my pulse to spike. Before I could question my own resolve, I blurted, “Would it not make more sense to stay in your chambers tonight?”
Cirian paused, his dark eyes holding me in a breathless panic.
Why did I say that?
“If that is what you wish,” Cirian replied slowly, as if he couldn’t believe his own words.
“It makes the most sense, I mean,” I quickly defended the idea. “We’ll have to meet with Sancha at first light, as you said. If I stay with you, I won’t have to worry about oversleeping or getting lost in these endless halls.”
The ghost of a smile traces Cirian’s lips. “Right. It only makes sense. Good thinking, Bast.”
I wanted to kick myself. Instead, I followed the man down the hall, silently cursing my own tongue with every step.