Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 32 - Leavi

The infirmary below me is hushed tonight, and the quiet settles over me like the air of a cemetery. The soldiers' soft sleeping should bring me comfort. Instead, I'm uneasy, as if death were a spectre hovering over everyone's beds. I shift, cross-legged on the floor of my bedroom. I don't suppose apprehension is going to make you behave any better, is it?

Vihnzeirre doesn't respond, but I feel like she's watching, waiting for her moment to pounce and play a nasty trick. Unsettled, I rise and return my story book to its bag. Maybe I'll practice another night.

Papers crinkle against my fingers. I draw them out, faint candlelight revealing the copied pages from Aster's poem book. I almost forgot I had these.

I snag them and the blanket off my bed and head to the living room. The door here is already open, letting in the warm air from below, and I nestle into the couch cushions. If I can't sleep anyway, tonight is as good as any for a scary story.

Candlelight flickers over the warnings of the world's end. My finger runs across familiar words. Of caverns, of snow. A scientist, untamed magic... They're even more unsettling after finding my name among the book's pages.

Something rustles at the edge of my hearing, and my head snaps up. My gaze roams the room, but there's nothing unusual, and the only noise is the crackle of the hearth downstairs. Heartbeat slowing, I turn back to the writing.

Metal clinks against stone, and I jump. Just a rat, I tell myself. Knocking something over. Skies know the castle has plenty. But my pulse beats another truth, and I rise. It sounded like it came from downstairs.

Hurrying down the steps, I sneak over to press my ear against the closed infirmary door. The noises are random, hardly audible: a dull thud, a soft rattle, a rasp against the stone. It could be nothing.

Nerves jittering, I draw in a steady breath and grasp the knob with just my fingertips. With a twist so slow it hardly seems like it's moving, I turn it and draw the door open, one centimeter, two, three. Holding my breath, I peek out the crack.

The hall is empty.

My breath releases, and I lean against the jamb. You're getting paranoid, Leavi. Letting scary stories spook you. I shake my head and turn to go back upstairs.

My steps stall, though. In a world where magic trumps science and secrets trump justice, what better do I have to go on than my instincts? With a soft huff, I turn and slip outside. I'm only paranoid if I'm wrong, and I can't shake the feeling that I'm not. If everything is fine, then it's a harmless jaunt down the hall. Otherwise...

I force my steps to land softly lest I'm caught.

Quick and quiet, I pad down the hall like a cat. My dress makes more noise than my feet, and I gather my skirts to keep them from whispering against the floor. At the end of the hall, I stop to listen.