12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter twelve
I glance up and down the concierge wing as I leave, thankful there is a separate Warden residence on the island, before making my way to the prisoners’ lounge. The growing hold Quillian is having on my senses needs some preparation before I see him. Blossom started without me today, my adjusted role meaning I don’t have quite the same adhesion to shift hours – I just seem to be always on now.
My normal gold sandals are done up to my knees, criss-crossing my calves and shins as they journey up, only to be mostly hidden by my long uniform. Selecting it had taken me a little longer than normal this morning and I avoided all lilac – that colour really doesn’t do anything for me. Instead, I chose a soft sage that plays to my green eyes. Its wide shoulder straps have a second piece that cups the tops of my arms, a small section of my shoulders peeking out in between. It’s one of my favourites, almost making me feel more like a guest here than someone serving her country.
I tell myself the extra effort is for my new role in assisting Quillian – and making sure Traelen can see how deserving I am of the recommendation he now holds. It’s nothing at all to do with how Quillian’s face lit up as we talked yesterday.
The lounge is quiet when I wander in; a small smattering of prisoners drape themselves along the lounges and I swallow a small grin. There is definitely only a certain kind of person who can look good draped on the edge of a couch like the gold-framed painting. And I’m not sure Emeris’s charges are it.
Davorous and Finn play chess in one of the window tables which is … unusual. One, because Finn is interacting with someone, and two, because Davorous’s competitive streak means he is normally first in line for all sports and should be preparing for darts in the smoking room.
Until I see Blossom making her way to him with a drink in hand.
Asshole .
As I move towards Bloss, Finn stands, putting himself between Davorous and her, taking the drink himself and handing it to Davorous. Davorous schools his scowl into a thankful grimace as Finn resumes his seat and gestures for Davorous to make his move.
‘I need you in the other room,’ I say to Blossom when I get within earshot.
She says nothing but walks with me out of the prisoner lounge. We’re just about through the door when I look back at Finn and Davorous and both men are watching us leave.
Davorous with a murderous look on his face.
Finn gives me a subtle nod I’m not sure how to interpret. In all my time here, I don’t recall a single prisoner going out of their way – subtly or otherwise – to help a concierge. At least not when there wasn’t a direct benefit for them.
‘I hate that man,’ Blossom fumes when we’re in the hall that runs the internal courtyard.
‘Bloss,’ I say hesitantly, ‘please don’t be mad—’
She stops dead and looks at me.
‘You realise starting a sentence like that doesn’t exactly make me relaxed.’
‘I know, I just – I told Quillian about him.’
‘Quillian?’ she asks, her tone a touch wary. ‘Since when are you on a first name basis with the new Warden?’
I can feel the flush starting to run up my neck and her brows shoot upwards.
‘I guess he’s quite attractive …’ she says evenly, her face shuttering, and then frowns. ‘Although … you do seem to have a penchant for men with blades. Is that going to be something I have to watch?’
‘Blossom!’ I yank her to the side of the walkway where it feels more private. It’s not, but gives the illusion of it.
Her face is serious when she looks up at me. One of her perfect, brown brows lifts and she sighs. ‘Okay,’ she says, seeming to make an effort to shake off whatever worry caught her for a moment. Perhaps the thought of me being romantically entangled with a new Warden when we’re in contact with a Vanan prisoner. And Nix and River. ‘I know it’s been a long time since that forest party—’
I cover her mouth with my hand and she huffs a half-hearted laugh, pushing me away.
‘Do not finish that sentence.’ I point a finger at her.
‘Seriously, though,’ she says with a sad smile, ‘please be careful. He’s …’ she looks behind herself quickly, ‘he’s the Warden and … close to Traelen.’
I don’t know what else I can say to that but, ‘Okay.’ I know him being Warden is risky given what we’re doing with Cortane, that’s not news, so I wait. Wait for her to finally address what this conversation was actually supposed to be about.
‘Thank you,’ she says finally. ‘I should have done it myself …’ she trails off.
‘You’re not angry?’
‘No, Luka, I’m not angry.’ She all but rolls her eyes. ‘You know how I feel about this. It’s me now, one day it would be someone else. He can’t be allowed to cross any lines.’
She takes my hand and pulls us back into the centre of the walkway. ‘At least I now know he won’t be at darts. Speaking of, do you think we’ll find out why Cortane wanted the timing details?’
‘I assume so she can confirm if we are giving correct information and, therefore, trustworthy?’
Blossom hums gently. ‘But that would assume she could verify it somehow, how is she going to do that from the other side?’
The hubbub from the smoking room drifts out to meet us and into the sky. I look out at the blue abyss that surrounds us as we walk. Apart from the prison on an island part, I imagine this is how my father spent a lot of his days – in a nice suit, dark room full of haze, talking about every possible theory and philosophy about our magic, our society, our world. Constantly calculating how to bring some of the most disparate elements of our government services together for the good of the country.
Knowing we are now too close to the smoking room to continue our conversation about Cortane, I let Bloss’s question hang. But it bounces around my mind with no particular direction – just another piece of a partial thought I don’t know what to do with.
Clearly understanding the same restriction of conversation, Blossom asks what we need to do for the darts session.
‘The committee has most of it covered,’ I say. ‘I just need to check they are on schedule for lunch, and see if Quillian has any questions or changes I need to take care of. This one was set up how Claudius liked to run them, but I imagine any new Warden would like to put their own stamp on things.’
Blossom cocks a brow at me.
‘As nice as that might be,’ she whispers with careful emphasis for me to know full well what she’s actually referring to, ‘I think it’s best not to … blur anything until we’re done here. Until you know exactly what everyone’s intentions are.’
I glance at her, but there’s no jesting on her face. ‘There’s nothing to blur, Bloss, I know my place.’
But as we continue towards the noise, I realise how much I wish that wasn’t true. I want a ‘place’, sure, but I also want to be free to blur whatever lines I see fit. And as wonderful as it feels to make Quillian smile, my time for that is on the mainland – certainly not with the Warden of my prison.
As for his intentions—
A scream rips through the stone hall.
‘What?’ Blossom gasps.
We both break out into a run, our sandals slapping on the stone.
The smoking room is full of a fog that drifts towards the ceiling, oblivious to the turmoil underneath. Prisoners scatter themselves to the outer edges of the room, some panicked, others watching greedily. Two concierges, one of them Emeris, kneel over a body near the bar.
One of the young girls, who trained under Janly, starts ushering the prisoners out and sends another concierge away. I assume with a message to the kitchens to get lunch on earlier than expected – at least, that’s what I would do.
I don’t see Nix or River, and a rivulet of ice trickles down my back as Blossom and I approach Emeris. His lean body obscures most of the top half of a person from view but the legs don’t belong to either Nix or River, nor do they wear a concierge uniform, and I can’t help the furious wash of relief.
‘Emeris?’ I say, voice steadier than I feel as we get closer, and he leans back, shaking his head.
Exposing Kasera.
Unmoving.
A dart lodged in her eye.
Cortane, I think as bile charges up my throat.
I look wildly at Blossom, her normally radiant skin paling rapidly. She grips my hand as I think my knees might give and digs her nails in. The room spins around me, the faces of the prisoners and concierges blurring.
The Warden – I should find Claud—
A crushing weight lands on my shoulders. No Claudius. This is my mess to fix.
I try to turn on the spot, dragging on Blossom’s hand, but she pulls me forward again.
And it’s not Claudius’s warm gaze that comes into focus, but a green one instead.
Dark, dark green.
Creases line his forehead above his brows where they furrow.
‘Luka?’ he asks and, absently, I notice him look to Blossom. ‘Are you two okay?’
I don’t register her response. Isn’t it odd to be asking how we are when Kasera has just had a terrible, terrible accident?
‘Luka,’ he says again, stepping forward and taking my elbow in his hand. Anchored by Blossom on one side and Quillian on the other, gradually, the rest of the room comes back into focus.
But the bitter taste in the back of my throat remains.
‘I’m okay,’ I say softly, releasing Blossom’s hand. ‘I’m okay.’ I look sideways at her but she’s recovered faster than me and is already peering down at Kasera.
‘What happened?’ she asks, glancing around as the room empties.
Slowly, Quillian’s hand drops away from my arm, and I step forward after Blossom. Kasera’s body is lying awkwardly where she’s fallen, her long skirt tangled in her legs and one arm high above her head. The carpet is wet where her drink has been spilled, the glass still intact. Blood runs from the corner of her left eye, into her hair and the carpet.
I press my fingers to my mouth as if that will stop the rising wave of queasiness.
‘I don’t really know,’ Emeris says to Blossom. ‘One second we were all playing darts, the next she’s on the ground. Magnolina always does throw wide, but I–I just never expected this.’
My stomach clenches as the coppery scent of Kasera’s blood finds me, and I drop my hand, breathing forcefully through my mouth.
I look up at Quillian, who’s now talking quietly to Emeris, his calculating gaze running everywhere in the room but Emeris’s face. Every now and then it flicks back to me, as if he’s checking on me, and my chest aches at what is quickly starting to feel like a betrayal of him.
Fuck. Could this really be just an accident? If not … exactly what has Claudius got me into?
‘Finn.’ Quillian’s tone is a command and it startles me that any prisoners are still here, let alone being invited in.
Blossom narrows her eyes at him before she and Emeris each look at me as if expecting me to give some sort of instruction, uncertainty flickering across their features. Finn strolls across the space, not sparing Kasera another glance as he approaches Quillian and Emeris – Davorous nowhere to be seen.
‘You two,’ Quillian says, gesturing to the two men, ‘take her to the wellness centre. The healers there will tend to her body.’
‘Blossom,’ he says, and she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand before she nods at him. ‘Are you able to check in on the rest of the teams and supervise lunch?’
She looks between Quillian and me.
‘Yes, sir,’ she says.
‘Koko will have the food ready,’ I tell her. ‘Ask her to serve up some special silver bubbles – that will take any edge off for the prisoners.’
‘Perhaps ask one of the singers for a performance as well,’ Quillian says. ‘The violinist is also good at solos, if needed.’
She gives Quillian a long look before turning towards me, her back almost completely to Quillian. ‘You okay here?’ she asks quietly, taking my hands, Quillian’s watchfulness still taking me in over her shoulder. ‘I’m not sure—’
I glance up at Quillian. ‘Yes,’ I whisper, ‘we’ll talk later. Can you see if you can check on … the others?’
I’m sure she will understand I mean Nix and River – I already know how Emeris is, and I will check in on the other concierges later when I have to do a debrief with them. I don’t have to tell her not to mention our visit with Cortane and the information I gave over, but my mind is whirling with the implications. Claudius told me to make contact with Cortane, give her information. Now, a prisoner is dead.
‘Of course,’ she says after a moment, giving my hands one last squeeze before I watch her leave, the pink dress she wears trailing after her.
As Finn and Emeris ready Kasera’s body for moving, I drop into the closest seat, already thinking of what to say to the concierge teams. Quillian hasn’t dismissed me, or given me another task, but I can’t bring myself to leave either. My mind is void of any excuses I could have to not be here.
But it’s not empty of questions. The loudest being: how the fuck did Cortane manage this? Did she portal here? Is this why she’s so dangerous – she just portals where she likes and kills people? Why would Claudius have been happy for me to release her as well? Why Kasera?
I press my fingers into my temples and close my eyes, resting my elbows on the dark timber table, its surface sticky on my skin.
I don’t watch as Finn and Emeris carry Kasera away, Emeris grunting slightly under her weight.
‘Luka,’ I glance up from the table top to find Quillian crouched in front of me. ‘Will you come to the office with me, please?’
It seems like the easiest question to answer. So easy, I just give him a shallow nod as I stand, Quillian copying the action a moment later, unfurling to his full height in front of me. I follow him from the room silently. I wonder if he has had to deal with a similar situation before. I certainly haven’t, and I have no idea how best to support him through it as the Warden responsible.
‘Warden,’ one of the newer prisoners – Zenaton Blake, I think, snaps as we cross the hall outside the smoking room. ‘What are you doing about Kasera’s death? The perpetrator must be punished. It was Magnolina wasn’t it?’
Quillian’s gaze slides sideways to Zenaton. ‘No details are being discussed at this time,’ he says, walking on.
‘The Prime Minister will be hearing of this!’ Zenaton calls after us.