SEVENTEEN
The sun, bright and searing, woke him the next morning.
It was no surprise that Silas felt sorry for himself, given he usually had no penchant for drinking. It had knocked him out not long after Amelia’s departure, that morning offering little but a pounding headache and a dry mouth that set him choking for a glass of water.
After a slow and sluggish adventure in bathing and dressing, Silas made his weary way to the dining hall, hoping he hadn’t missed breakfast. Within a few steps of the open doorway, a set of female voices stopped him in his tracks.
“…didn’t go very well?” came Amelia’s voice.
“Why would you assume that?”
Aurora.
“He was drinking when I found him after,” Amelia said, a sternness to her tone that he was so familiar with, except it was usually directed at him. “I’ve never seen him have a single drink at conventions or Spire conferences. It seemed out of character.”
“Do you think you know his character?” Aurora responded in a curious tone.
“I can’t say I know him that well, no,” she said awkwardly. Silas heard the shifting of wood scraping across the floor. “But I have known him for years, and I’m making an observation of what I do know.”
“I’d always had the impression that you despised him,” Aurora said, “so I might have assumed you weren’t making many observations.”
A quiet pause.
“Are you trying to bait me into saying something that you’re already thinking?” Amelia asked, Silas almost giving away his eavesdropping by snorting. “Because I’d hate to disappoint whatever conclusions you’ve drawn in your head.”
Aurora chuckled softly. “I like you,” she told Amelia.
“Great,” she responded, and Silas could hear the eyeroll in the tone, “now I can die a happy woman.”
Another laugh, this time louder, before it died quickly followed by a heavy silence. Silas pictured them looking at each other, both understanding Amelia’s joke held a sombre gravity.
Right.
That’s enough.
Silas stepped into the dining room as though he hadn’t just listened to them bicker at each other.
He paused, glancing between the two women, as though surprised to see them. Aurora sat at the head of the table while Amelia faced him. They both had a teacup before them and a plate of food, though neither seemed to be making a move to eat.
They had indeed been staring at one another, but as he entered, both sets of eyes shifted to him.
“Uh, good morning,” he offered.
Silas strode to the table, taking the chair across from Amelia. Keeping his gaze low, he reached for a platter of sausages, the smell managing to make him both ravenous and nauseated.
“Morning,” Aurora muttered.
Amelia remained quiet.
Halfway through his first sausage, his stomach uncertain about whether it would stay inside, Silas finally looked up.
Amelia dragged a fork across her plate, pushing her food around, eyes on the table. There was a look of saddened anger on her face, jaw shifting as she played with her food, eyes blinking a little too much.
He remembered the night before and what had passed between them after midnight. Silas set his sausage down, eyes on his sister.
She watched them both with a blank expression, lips pursed.
After a long, uncomfortable moment of silence, Amelia breached it.
“Your week is up, Finley,” she said, not looking up from her plate. “I want to go home. Today.”
Silas sighed. “We haven’t finished our research here.”
Her head shot up, fixing him with a glare. “We’ll resume in Ivory City. You asked for a week, and I gave it. I want the library and my own resources. Plus, we have the conference in a few days that we can’t miss.”
He swallowed, looking to Aurora as though asking for help. “Aurora has two of father’s journals.”
Aurora seemed disappointed, frowning into her teacup, but said nothing.
“What?”
Silas shifted his gaze back to Amelia, nodding. “I don’t know exactly what they contain, but it’s something. We need them.”
“You have them? Let me see.”
Silas gestured at Aurora. “She has them, I haven’t seen them yet.”
“You can get them to us?” Amelia asked.
Aurora set her jaw but gave a sharp nod.
Amelia pushed away from the table and stood, hands on either side of her plate as she looked at Silas. “Great, we’ll take them with us to Ivory City.”
Silas stood also, shaking his head. “We need to be here. All the research has been done in my lab, we need to—”
“I need my own books and my own resources. If you need anything else from here, you can send for them, but your week is up , Finley. End of story.” Amelia narrowed her eyes, daring him to argue with her.
Argue he would.
“You are so infuriatingly stubborn,” Silas seethed. “You want to have your own way so badly that you would compromise our research, even when our lives are on the line.”
Her eyes flared. “We are compromising our research by being stuck here with the same resources and texts. We need to expand our knowledge base and—”
“For pity’s sake.” Silas pushed himself away from the table with a frustrated growl. He had a sinking feeling that leaving Lunarian would be a mistake. He half-turned back, shaking his head at her. “Can’t you ever find a scrap of compromise within you?”
“Compromise?” she said, laughing humourlessly. “That’s what this was!” Amelia’s arms flew out wide, gesturing around the large room. “Me being here this week was a compromise, you utter ass!”
“Obedience, then,” Silas said, temper flaring. “Perhaps you could find a little bit of that within you, to just do as you’re asked for once in your life.”
Something shifted immediately. Amelia’s posture became rigid, eyes widening, fingers slackening at her sides. She just stared at him, like he was a stranger.
Silas stood, uncertain what was so bad to elicit that reaction. He had flung worse insults at her over the years that this felt like a childish argument in comparison.
Amelia swallowed, blinking her gaze away. She turned stiffly, walking hurriedly for the door.
He took a step towards her retreating form. “Winslow—”
She was already around the corner before her name managed to pass through his lips.
Silas stared at the doors, wondering how he had messed up so terribly as to have her make a hasty exit. Again .
He swore under his breath, turning to find Aurora standing at the head of the table. She looked at him with raised brows and an expression that was both unimpressed and curious.
“That was…interesting to witness.”
He blew out a breath. “Nothing out of the ordinary for us, but…she usually gives it back instead of storming off.”
“What do you think did it?”
He shrugged, genuinely confused. “I couldn’t say. I’m certain I’ve given her flack for disagreeing with me before.”
Aurora sank slowly back into her chair, pulling her teacup forwards for a dainty sip. She set it back down with a clink.
“Father’s journals are in my cottage, south,” she said.
Silas rolled his eyes, resuming his seat before spearing angrily at his sausage. “You’ll send for them.”
“It will take a day, at least,” she said. “Will you be going north, then?”
He chewed thoughtfully, still puzzling out what had set Amelia off. “I hope I can convince her to stay a few more days, at least until the conference.”
“And if you can’t?”
He shrugged. “Then I’m going north today.”
Silas left the dining hall, intent on finding Amelia. He muttered practice apologies to himself as he walked the hallways, though he struggled to manifest the right words, not knowing exactly what he had said.
Not finding Amelia in her room, he wondered if she had gone to the lab without him. He headed for the spiral staircase.
Silas was on the top step when a hand gripped his upper arm fiercely, startling him. He whirled, finding his mother standing before him with a lilac cloak fastened around her shoulders, staring at him with widened eyes.
“Mother?” he asked, pulling his arm from her bony grasp.
“You cannot leave,” she whispered.
“What?”
Veralind leaned in closer. He could smell alcohol on her breath. “Silas, my son, you cannot leave the city. You both must remain here.”
Silas looked away. “Mother, I can’t express how little I care for what you want right now. Winslow and I will leave if and when we want.”
Over the theatrics, he began treading down the stairs.
“Danger only awaits you if you leave this city!” she called after him.
Silas glanced up. She grasped the metal railings, staring at him. He ignored her and left.
Before he could reach the front doors, Aurora raced around the corner, skidding to a stop before him.
“Silas,” Aurora panted. He rubbed a hand over his face, already over this day. “Come quickly…Amelia, she’s trying to leave!”
He tilted his head. “To the lab?”
Aurora shook her head. “She’s at the stables with her horse, she said she’s leaving for Ivory City.”
“What?” Silas said, heart kicking up a notch.
He ran past his sister, bursting through the front doors and startling one of the staff members who had been innocently standing there.
He hurried down the steps, dashing around the corner.
He spotted Amelia ahead, a hand on Tempests’ reins, saddlebags packed.
“Winslow!” he shouted in warning, holding up his hand.
Amelia tensed and whipped her head around, spotting him running towards her. She shook her head and fumbled for something in a pocket, pulling it out. He swallowed his fear as he saw the Waystone chip.
“ Wait , please!”
Her eyes darkened as she glared, lips set into a thin line. He was still a distance away when Amelia raised her chin in defiance, her hand twitching as her thumb pressed the centre of the chip.
Then she and her horse disappeared before his eyes.
Pain.
Silas had been running across the cobbles, but the moment she had pressed the stone, his entire body flinched, and he fell with a pained grunt to his knees.
His chest heaved, eyes clenched shut, body bowing and arching from the pain of each cell within him being set aflame.
A growl tore from his throat as he worked to keep himself conscious.
“Silas!”
Hands were on his shoulders, and he could hear Aurora speaking next to him, desperate and afraid.
“Chip,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Ivory…”
He groaned, collapsing into the ground, shoulder hitting the cobbles hard.
Silas didn’t hear Aurora’s response but there was commotion around him. Footsteps pounded on cobbles. Horses whinnied, making aggravated noises. It was all he could focus on while his body curled in on itself.
He didn’t know how much time had passed, but it felt like being consumed with pain for days when Aurora finally pressed a stone into his hand.
“Go!” she yelled into his ear.
It was all he could manage to shift his thumb and press into the Waystone chip before he was flying, pulled away from the cobbles in front of his home.
He landed on his back, surrounded by soft, green grass.
He gasped in a breath, the relentless ache leaving his body all at once. His lungs pulled in blessed air as he stared up at a clear, blue sky and felt the grass with his hands, trying to ground himself.
A soft sob reached him. Silas turned his head as he panted with relief.
He sat up quickly, earning himself a headrush.
His vision swam, but he could see Tempest not far away, shifting restlessly on her feet beside a slumped figure on the ground.
Two others knelt over her, glancing on with worry etched into their features.
Silas got himself to his feet, stumbling over to her. He forgot all niceties, pushing one of the strangers away before falling to his knees beside Amelia.
She lay on her back, eyes closed and lips trembling as her chest heaved with her rough breaths. Sweat clung to her forehead, pieces of her hair sticking to slick skin.
He reached for her with a shaky hand, cupping her cheek. “Winslow?”
She uttered a soft whimper, head turning towards him, eyes remaining closed. His heart thumped heavily in his chest.
“Winslow…”
“Is she alright?” someone asked with concern.
Silas ignored them, staring at her with increasing levels of panic when she didn’t respond.
“I’m here,” he said, leaning closer, “it’s alright now, you need to wake up. Winslow .”
Nothing.
He let out a stuttered breath, thumb brushing over her cheek.
“Amelia,” he said roughly, the sound of her given name foreign on his tongue, “wake up .”
Her lashes shifted, and finally, her eyes blinked slowly open. Those dark brown eyes focused on him, and her lips parted on a soft inhale.
“Si—” her voice was rough, as though she had been screaming. She cut herself off, eyes clenching shut.
Amelia tried to sit, Silas helping her with a hand on her back.
“You’re alright,” he whispered gently, fingers absently brushing along her spine.
She looked at him again, eyes filling with tears.
She collapsed into him, arms circling his neck and pulling him to her.
He went without complaint, holding her close.
It was a profound relief, to be holding her after the agony of being away from her, like they had been torn apart, cleaved in two, and now they were whole again.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed into his neck, shoulders shaking. “Finley, I’m so sorry…I had no idea…I should never have…”
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.