Chapter 15 Nowhere Else to Go
NOWHERE ELSE TO GO
Iran. I ran and ran and ran, not stopping at the stairs, which I descended at an ungodly speed.
It was miraculous that I didn’t fall down the ancient steps, breaking my neck on the way.
I flew down, down, down, into the depths of the opera house.
Down where no one from Scion—no gendarmes—could follow.
When I reached the canal, I didn’t think, didn’t wonder if the raft would be waiting there: it was.
I leapt onto it, not stopping to look back—not once.
My lungs screamed from the effort, and I had a stitch in my side that felt like knives, but I didn’t stop.
I took up the pole and pushed through the canals as fast as I could, the little raft slicing through the still water, which lapped at the stone walls.
I was at a crossroads before I knew it. Which way had Ciaran steered us?
I never second-guessed my instincts, just followed them, each time.
Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.
Never look back. Tears fell silently as I pushed through the canals, but I wiped them away, trying not to allow the feeling of loss to break through.
I was erecting a massive wall around my emotions; this was no place for regrets.
I didn’t allow myself a second to rest until I got to the middle of the Cistern.
I remembered that this was where Ciaran had taken a moment to relax; only here had he felt comfortable to raise his voice above a whisper.
I didn’t know exactly why, but I finally allowed myself to breathe—to look behind me.
I had expected the hounds of hell on my tail, but there was no one.
I was alone in this ancient cathedral. It was so dark, and so cold, but still hauntingly beautiful. I took a breath and pushed onward.
The solitary journey up the passageway on the other side of the Cistern felt heavy.
I was here. I had left my old life behind me.
I didn’t even have a chance to think about it.
To decide. I knew deep down that the split-second decision had saved my life, but it didn’t make it easier.
To not look back. To not mourn and wonder what I had left behind.
My thoughts turned to Maren—she had saved me.
She had risked her own life and reputation to get me out.
Would I ever see her again? Could I ever repay her for what she’d done for me?
Would Carlotta believe that I hadn’t had anything to do with the crash?
She had looked up at me with fear and disgust. I had a sinking fear in my gut that she believed I had done it.
What about Seff? I had never gotten to answer him truly.
I had never told him that I couldn’t marry him.
I supposed that he would not want me now anyway.
The proposal would have been null and void the moment I was accused of witchcraft.
My thoughts cascaded as I walked, and before I knew it, I had arrived at the nondescript door leading to Ciaran’s apartment.
I was still wearing the stupid pageboy costume, my hair coming out of the low ponytail at the base of my neck.
My makeup was good, but there was no way it would have withstood the sweat that poured down my face after my descent and furious rowing.
I must have looked ridiculous. But I stood outside of that door and hesitated, for a moment, before I accepted how my life had changed irreparably. I knocked.
There was a shuffle from inside—the scrape of a chair and quick footsteps.
Several locks clicked—a pause—the door opened.
Ciaran hadn’t been expecting anyone, clearly, and I had caught him at an inopportune moment.
He was standing there, with a white towel draped over his left shoulder.
His hair was dripping, still wet from the bath, as he leaned toward me, clearly shocked. He was not wearing a shirt.
I had just undergone a very traumatic ordeal.
I had witnessed death and gore and nearly been killed myself.
So the fact that I noticed this at all is a testament to how beautiful the man in front of me truly was.
His golden skin was dewy, glistening in the dim light within the apartment.
The swirling scars that began on the side of his face extended down and across his shockingly muscular chest. Shockingly muscular—yes, this descriptor would apply to the rest of his bare torso as well.
So many muscles. What did someone have to do to get so many muscles?
I think I was ogling again. My mouth was dry; heat flared in my face and much lower.
But I quickly snapped out of it as I remembered exactly why I was here.
What had happened to cause me to flee for my life.
Ciaran still hadn’t said a word. He was just staring right back at me, as if he couldn’t believe I was here.
“Please,” I whispered, breaking the silence that hung in the air between us, “I have nowhere else to go.”
Ciaran seemed to jolt awake at my plea, his eyes breaking away from mine as he peered anxiously over my shoulder.
“Get inside.” His voice was rough and gravelly.
I squeezed through the doorway as he kept his eyes on the passageway behind me, checking to see that I hadn’t been followed.
I tried, and failed, not to notice the warmth radiating off his bare torso, or the herbal fresh scent of his soap.
“What happened?” Ciaran wheeled around to face me once he’d finished locking the door and muttering whatever spells he used to keep it secure. It was concern, not anger, that flashed across his angular features. “Are you hurt?”
“Uh… no. But you might want to sit down. It’s kind of a long story.
” Stop looking at his naked chest, stop looking, stop looking.
I silently willed myself to keep my eyes on his face.
At that moment, Ciaran seemed to remember that he was in fact half naked.
He stalked into his bedroom and grabbed a black shirt, pulling it over his head in a smooth motion.
It left his damp hair tousled. The effect did not make it any easier for me not to stare.
“Tell me everything.” He motioned for me to sit on the sofa.
I was so exhausted I almost fell into the plush cushions.
And then I told Ciaran. I told him everything that had happened since he led me back through the mirror.
How my apartment had been trashed. I told him about the viscount relegating me to a silent role in the opera.
And finally, I told him about the chandelier crash.
“Holy Goddess,” he hissed as I told him how the massive fixture had popped, exploded and come crashing down.
“Do you think… I could have done it? Even by accident?” My voice was smaller than I would have liked, a sliver of doubt creeping into my conscious mind—a small voice telling me that it could have been me.
“You said your role in the opera was a silent role?” Ciaran asked.
I nodded. “Then no. I don’t see how you could have had anything to do with it.
I’ve seen your magic, Seraphina. Twice now.
You are powerful, but you are untrained.
It would take a skilled magic wielder to bring down a chandelier that size.
You probably could have made the bulbs explode if you’d been singing,” he mused, “but you weren’t.
So no. I don’t think it was you.” He sounded so confident.
It soothed that anxious part of my mind that had been eating away at me the whole journey down here.
“But it sounds like whoever did it wanted to make it look like it was you.”
“Why?” I gulped. “Why frame me? To have me killed? Because of something I didn’t even know about and can’t control? People were crushed under the chandelier. More were injured. It makes no sense.”
Ciaran ran his hand through his hair. I was momentarily distracted by the beauty of that simple gesture.
“Because Scion’s power over people is so dependent on making us into the enemy.
By dehumanizing us, they are able to maintain control over everyone and everything else.
We are their scapegoat. And at the same time, the power we possess threatens everything they preach to be true.
There is nothing they wouldn’t do to maintain that power. ”
Silence rang in the space. It wasn’t entirely comfortable.
A current of energy hummed between us whenever Ciaran and I spoke.
I couldn’t ignore it as his eyes met mine.
I was mesmerized by the little flecks of lighter brown toward the centre of them.
I felt a jolt in the lower regions of my stomach just sitting next to him.
I gulped. I was not supposed to feel anything like this.
“So what now? What do I do? I can’t go back, I’ll be burned at the stake.” Ciaran shuddered as I said it. I remembered how he’d gotten those scars. A pang of sadness went through me as I thought about that young boy.
“Looks like we’re both fugitives now.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You can stay here as long as you like. It will be close quarters, but at least it’s warm and safe.”
“I can’t intrude like that. That’s not fair to you.
” I huffed. He was only being polite. There was no way he wanted me here, invading his space.
I didn’t know how I could stand it either.
Being in such close proximity to him. His presence was so overwhelming that I could feel him in every corner of the room.
“Seraphina, I would never turn you out into the cold. Don’t be ridiculous. Stay. Please.” Ciaran’s voice was soft and soothing to my frazzled nerves. And when he said my name, I couldn’t say no. So I nodded that I would indeed stay.