16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter sixteen
‘A few more moments and then we’ll cue the music,’ I say to Blossom before I do a slow spin around the room, a smile plastered on my face as I check all the details. Seating. Table settings. Music. Centrepieces. Sheers open. Drinks. Koko. Serving concierges.
But underneath the rote checking of how the evening is set up to run is an uneasy churning in my stomach. I try to ignore the compression in my chest that appears every time I think of the timing of the prisoners’ deaths and the arrival of Nix and River.
Soldiers. That’s what they said they are.
And soldiers kill.
A sharpness lodges itself under my ribs.
He’s the reason we’re here.
They didn’t know Claudius – at least not well. But their commanding officer did.
Could that be … Quillian?
But Claudius died before he got here. After Nix and River. So I’m not sure that timing works out.
Could it be because of something Quillian did ?
The room seems to tilt around me – just a little – and I press a hand to the wall for a moment. Nix and River were clear they had a purpose here. One they didn’t want me involved in to protect me, despite the fact I am working around the edges of it anyway. But maybe I also didn’t look hard enough, just like I didn’t look hard enough at why these prisoners are here.
Why Kasera was here.
Janly managed the concierges and the removal of Aiten’s body while I focused on calming the prisoners and ensuring the dinner preparations went as smoothly, and quickly, as possible. I haven’t even been brought up to speed on all the details yet – my focus being on the rest of the cohort and ensuring their distraction tonight, along with my own. Because what if it was Nix that killed Aiten? My gut twists. The suspicion of it is enough to make me physically ill. How would I really face the possible reality that my best friend’s life has come to murdering people?
The prisoners mingle around the grandroom, most of them not even acknowledging the effort that’s gone into its presentation. Tonight, it’s decked out in floating lanterns that flicker light around the room, creating mysterious shadows. Their white and pink paper cases create an ethereal mood that matches my trailing dress.
Completely at odds with the thoughts rioting through me.
The light in the room continues to dim as the sun dips away, past the bottom of the island. I take a moment to soak in the vivid violet sunset out the arched windows and breathe in the fresh evening air. As if I could also suck in some of its calm. Its clarity.
Turning back to the room, I spot Davorous, dressed in a black suit with a lilac open-neck shirt, as he starts to make his way towards Blossom. A slick grin shows his perfect white teeth and many of the other prisoners fawn after him as they stop him for short discussions. But the whole time, his focus is on Blossom who is making her way to me. Her back is to Davorous and she’s unable to see the devouring look he’s giving her until Finn steps between them through the crowd, breaking my line of sight – and Davorous’s.
He’s our most frequent visitor to the playroom and I shudder at what goes on inside those walls. But the concierges that serve there do so of their own volition and can change posts whenever they see fit. Most of them don’t offer their services to just anyone, but make their own selections of who to entertain and negotiate any adjustments to their salaries as appropriate. I haven’t spoken to Quillian about that practice, and another gnawing of worry starts in the back of my mind. I’m sure he wouldn’t treat any of the concierges differently to the old Warden, but better to be sure than to assume.
As if I’ve summoned him with my thoughts, Quillian enters the wide double doors, his focus on me as if he knew where I’d be standing. But as soon as it seems we’re about to make eye contact, he looks away.
‘Okay?’ Blossom says as she reaches me, and I turn towards her, grateful to have something to do other than let my gaze trail Quillian around the room.
‘Yeah, thanks Bloss.’
She quirks a brow at me and I sigh.
‘I had a weird moment with Quillian this morning and now I think he’s avoiding me.’
Blossom is beautiful, even when she frowns.
‘What kind of moment?’
I glance around at who might be listening, but the other concierges are busy carrying out their duties before it’s time to take our seats and the prisoners pay us no notice. I watch one of the women, her head thrown back in a laugh as the man next to her leans down and whispers in her ear. There’s nothing innocent in the way his lips graze the bare skin on her neck. I’m pretty sure she has a husband back home, but there are no real rules up here.
‘I thought we were getting along,’ I whisper, and a reluctant almost-smile graces her face.
‘Go on …’ she says carefully.
‘And now we’re not.’
‘Because …’ she prompts as if she doesn’t want to commit to anything until she knows my thoughts.
I fiddle with my hair. ‘I’m not sure. He found me with Nix and River and … I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him since.’
She looks at me for a long time, as if she’s making the same connections I’ve been trying to understand. Or reconcile the fact that I want Quillian to talk to me despite her concern about the situation.
‘There’s more to the three of them than I thought,’ I say, taking a quick glance around the sea of prisoners.
‘We already knew Nix hates him,’ she says.
I nod. ‘This just … felt different. Like more. And now Quillian won’t even look at me.’
‘Okay, so go talk to him,’ she says kindly. ‘If you haven’t seen him, how do you know there’s anything wrong?’
I think of the mask on his face when he looked at me in the presence of Nix and River. The one that’s not normally there.
‘I just know. Anyway,’ I say, looking around, ‘I think there’s enough here, let’s give the signal to the quartet.’
Blossom opens her mouth to say something more but, glancing over my shoulder, she seems to think better of it and disappears. A moment later, I hear the quartet start up and wait for the lights of the notes to begin their way around the room.
‘Can we talk after dinner?’ Nix’s voice is behind me and I turn to face him, subtly trying to survey the room for Quillian. There’s no sign of him, but I can’t shake the feeling of being watched.
Nix’s auburn hair is slicked back off his face, the white jacket he wears fitting his stocky frame perfectly. The prison has the best tailors.
‘There you are.’ A sultry tone floats across the air to us, as if it travelled here on the lights of the music.
A female prisoner, one I only vaguely recognise – she must have come in the last few transfers I haven’t been involved in – drapes a hand over Nix’s chest. Fleur , that’s her name. She’s been spending much of her time with Miana, I think.
I look away – this doesn’t feel like a moment I need to be part of – to find River watching me as he makes his way over.
He narrows his eyes at Nix briefly before extending his elbow to me.
‘Join me for dinner?’ he asks.
I smile, welcoming the exit he offers, and slip my hand in the crook of his arm as he leads me to a table. Nix has had innumerable conquests in the time I have known him and my mind is whirling with too many other things to care about one more. He is also a prisoner, after all.
The table we choose is on the edge of the room, close to the arched windows and their sweeping views.
Janly is working tonight and she glides by with a gold tray covered in tall, slim glasses of Silver Sparkle.
‘You two look like you could do with one of these,’ she says.
Smiling, I pluck one from the tray and hand it to River, taking one for myself, too. Janly studies my face for a moment.
‘Maybe take two,’ she whispers, ducking away when we’ve lightened her tray further.
‘Do I really look that bad?’ I ask when she’s out of earshot.
‘I think it’s safer if I don’t answer that.’
I chuckle darkly as River and I clink our glasses together, downing half of my first glass.
‘Tell me,’ I say, looking around quickly at the numerous people who could move into hearing distance at any moment. ‘This … thing you have to do here …’ He doesn’t quite stiffen, but he does seem to use excessive care to place his drink down. ‘Do you believe in what you’re doing?’
He takes so long to answer, I think I might have struck an unusual nerve. There are very few things River and I haven’t discussed over the years.
‘I do,’ he says finally, looking off into the crowd before us, smiling blandly as though we were discussing the weather. ‘I’ve seen firsthand what I am taking a stance against.’
A rush of relief washes over me. I hadn’t realised how desperately I needed him to say that. Nix has been my best friend for a long time, but River has been our anchor. And to have him so sure of their purpose is an undoubtable balm.
‘Anything else on your mind?’ he asks a few moments later, that knowing grin playing out across his features.
‘Ugh,’ I say. ‘How embarrassing to be so readable.’
River laughs. ‘You forget I have known you a long time, Lu. I remember your first crush, don’t think I can’t tell when—’
I elbow him sharply in the ribs, a little bit of Silver Sparkle drink splashing out onto his hand. But I can’t help but laugh at the memories of Hugo – the little boy who promised to share his sand bucket with me every day for the rest of our lives.
‘So you’ve become quite the expert have you?’
He laughs. ‘You’d be surprised what I notice when Nix is … settled.’ He looks sideways at me. ‘Or glaring daggers at your boss.’
I shake my head, unable to stop the slight sinking in my stomach – the bursting of whatever tiny bubble was trying to expand there – at the undertone in River’s words when he talks of Nix being ‘settled’ or otherwise.
‘He’s got the wrong idea there – as do you. There’s nothing to talk about with Q—the Warden.’ I take another sip of my silver drink, trying to look at least somewhat like a professional and not a woman talking with one of her best friends.
‘Sure there’s not,’ he drawls, sitting back in his chair with a soft smirk.
‘Anyone you’re interested in?’ I ask with a raise of my brow. Bloss might be too raw for me to talk about River, but the reverse isn’t true.
He purses his lips, pensive, before taking a long drag on his own drink. ‘There might be someone who has caught my eye.’
I wait, but he doesn’t say any more so I prompt him. ‘And …?’
‘And … I get the sense that’s a delicate situation, would that be correct?’
I look for her in the room and find Davorous only a few people away, his concentration running the length of her. I frown, but a moment later Finn is by her side and a knot winding through my insides relaxes a fraction.
‘It would be,’ I confirm. I examine my empty glass, the tiny bit of silver swirling in the bottom where I jostle it back and forth. ‘Please, River,’ I say, looking at him and away from my glass, any trace of jest leaving me. ‘Whatever you do, be gentle.’
A chime rings out and I picture Janly ringing the bell for everyone to be seated. She’s done it so many times I don’t need to look to know that’s what’s happening. Around us, prisoners and concierges take their seats. Some concierges sit with the prisoners if they have been invited, but most sit together.
I watch Davorous closely and feel River doing the same, but Finn guides Blossom to our table and she takes a seat next to him a little further along. River waits until she’s seated before he stops watching but he doesn’t seem concerned about Finn’s attention, and it strikes me as unusual that the prisoner puts us both at ease when he’s with Blossom.
Nix sits at a separate table with the woman who’d stroked him earlier, and I pick up my second drink. A pang of guilt finds me at the extra moment it took me to remember her name, that I can’t currently recall her daily schedule and every whim. But any prisoners who arrived after Nix didn’t collect me have barely tapped my attention.
River bends his head to my ear and whispers, just as a shadow falls across the other empty chair across from me.
I ignore it, closing my eyes as I focus on River’s words.
‘I haven’t got enough of a read from her but, whatever happens, I’ll be gentle. I swear it,’ he says. ‘But for the record, you’ve never looked at anyone the way you look at him.’
I jerk my head to look at him. ‘Who?’ I demand.
Subtly, he inclines his head across the table.
To where Quillian has taken a seat directly in front of me.
‘And on his face – that look is completely new,’ he whispers.
I elbow him in the ribs and a whoosh of air leaves his lungs, a sound that echoes my deep and sudden inhale. River hasn’t known Quillian as long as he’s known me, I know that for sure. But how many of the last five years has he spent with him in some way to know his expressions so intimately?
Quillian nods at us politely before taking his seat, and I’m suddenly very conscious of his proximity and the fizz of the drinks running through my limbs. I can see the table Nix sits at from the corner of my eye, and I catch him narrowing his gaze at Quillian even as he drapes an arm over the shoulders of the other prisoner, his fingertips trailing her exposed skin.
The silence at my end of the table is oppressive, and I look longingly at Blossom who’s giving me a tentative smile as if encouraging me to talk to Quillian even though she’s still getting on board with the idea of us. Finn talks quietly beside her.
River shifts in his seat.
Two lights of the music find our table and hover along the top, making their way up past Blossom and River to Quillian and me, where they dance overhead. I look up at the one above me, conscious of Quillian doing the same, and I silently curse the violinist when the lights start twisting together.
We look down at the same time, catching each other’s gaze.
Quillian looks away first and I try to cover my awkwardness with another sip of my drink.
‘Sorry,’ I blurt out, ‘River, have you met the new Warden?’
River looks at me, questioningly, and nods without looking at Quillian. ‘Um … We’ve met.’
‘Great,’ I say quietly. ‘Returning to my drink.’
The silence stretches so long, I could almost walk its length. Around me the room is full of sound and animated discussion. Yet, I feel like I’m trapped in a bubble of silence, with only the whooshing of my blood in my ears as I look everywhere but at Quillian. Slowly, the room quiets a little – a sign the food is being dispersed – and I drum my fingers on my thigh until Janly appears at our table.
With food – a distraction I’ve never been more grateful for.
‘Thank you,’ I say to her, as she pops a series of plates in front of us.
Different prisoners take the spare seat next to Quillian and try to engage him in conversation about everything from the food, to their bed linens, and the weather. I let my attention wander the room, part of me still making sure the evening runs without hiccup. It occurs to me to wonder if I should be worried about Cortane making an appearance? Or taking out another prisoner?
Yet, a large portion of my attention remains across the table from me. I can feel his blistering gaze on me every few minutes but, each time I look, he’s engaged in a stilted conversation with someone else. The coldness in his face as if it’s never left, and no sign of his dimple.
One of Janly’s team brings dessert and I can’t help but smile at the small plate of chocolate balls to have with tea.
Quillian catches my eye and holds it, almost as if he’s daring me to ignore the fact we’ve been silently dancing around each other’s attention all evening.
The stranglehold I’ve had on my insides slips, and a small army of butterflies takes flight. Picking up the plate I offer it to him silently, drowning in the depth of his green eyes. The tiny thaw there.
Wordlessly, he plucks a ball from the plate and pops it in his mouth. In moments, his hair is a shimmering electric blue, and River barks a loud laugh.
Quillian doesn’t look away from me, a fire starting to forge its way through my chest. Instead, he raises a brow in question – or challenge – that dimple winking at me, and I pick my own chocolate ball.
Deliberately, I place it in my mouth and River stifles a cough next to me. I ignore him as my brows lift and my mouth flames. The popping on my tongue is so delightful it brings tears to my eyes and I grin. I lick my lips as it ceases, using my finger to wipe away any remaining evidence. Quillian’s gaze flicks to my mouth as I do, and then my finger that’s come away gold.
‘Having a good night?’ Nix asks as he stops at our table, standing over me from the side. I didn’t hear him approach. The tension in his shoulders is clear, and River sighs heavily.
‘Leave it, Nix,’ he mutters under his breath.
Quillian watches him carefully.
The woman whose side he’s been attached to most of the night finds him again, and he smiles at her, seduction replacing all his tension. He gives the three of us another long look before disappearing into the crowd hand in hand with her.
River exhales softly next to me and shakes his head. I don’t miss the way Blossom looks between the three men and back at me, concern simmering in her features.
Quillian doesn’t look at me again.